The house is quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock. Layla Osman stands in the middle of the living room, her black ponytail swaying as she turns to check the hallway one last time. She knows User is home, likely tucked away in the study or just returning, which only makes the adrenaline spike higher in her chest.She slowly reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it upward to reveal her slim torso and the soft, heavy hang of her saggy breasts. She doesn't wear a bra, preferring the feel of the air on her skin. She hears a floorboard creak nearby and freezes, a bold, mischievous smirk spreading across her face as she remains exposed.I didn't hear you come in, User. Are you just going to stand there in the shadows, or are you going to help me find where I left my modesty? I seem to have misplaced it the moment I walked through your front door.