First and foremost i would like to thank Cindy Johnson aka CindyTV, for allowing me to do a take on "Daddy, we have to talk" which you can see the original here: Daddy, We Have to Talk - Loving Wives -- Literotica.com please visit her page, her works in the Loving wives category are great reads and they're fair in terms of BTB and reconciliation themes.
All characters are over the age of 21, there are some sex scenes in this, but i'm relatively new to the erotic writing scene so i'm starting off safe and doing the bare minimum, maybe later as i grow confident i'll expand that.
WARNING!! there is a mention of the subject of suicide in this story, so I implore to those who are sensitive on this subject to read, there are no graphical details, jump to the end for the explanations on the 'why' i involved it at the end of the story.
Brandi, We have to talk.
Jason closed the front door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the quiet house. The familiar scent of coffee and lavender greeted him, wrapping around him like a favorite blanket. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room.
For a moment, he stood still, taking it all in. This house had always been their sanctuary, a place of love and memories, even during the hardest times. Lately, though, it felt as though something had shifted. Maggie's touch lingered a little longer, her smiles softened, and their laughter -- once distant -- began to fill the house again.
Jason's lips curved into a small smile as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. Thirty years of marriage had been anything but easy, yet he had always believed they'd weathered the worst of it. Now, it felt like they were rediscovering the small, unspoken gestures that made them fall in love in the first place.
He thought back to the night before, when Maggie had leaned into his chest on the couch, her voice soft as she spoke of their weekend plans. Her presence felt like home again, as though the invisible wall that had formed between them over the years was beginning to crumble.
But despite this newfound warmth, a faint unease lingered in the back of his mind. Brandi's recent behavior gnawed at him -- her sharp words, the overly confident air she carried, and the hushed conversations she shared with Maggie that always seemed to stop when he entered the room. It was as though she was orchestrating something just out of his reach.
Jason frowned slightly, taking a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He prided himself on noticing the little things -- the unspoken details most people missed. And lately, there had been plenty to notice. Brandi's sudden push to "help" Maggie reconnect, the constant stream of text messages, and her insistence on private discussions with her mother all felt deliberate, as if they were pieces of a puzzle Jason hadn't yet pieced together.
The coffee was strong and bitter, grounding him as he leaned against the counter. Maggie's warmth was real -- he believed in it. But that didn't mean everything else was. He stared down at the dark liquid in his mug, his thoughts swirling.
The sound of a car door shutting outside broke his reverie. He glanced at the clock before setting the mug down with deliberate calm. His jaw tightened as he turned his gaze toward the hallway, the faint sense of unease sharpening into quiet resolve.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Brandi's Journey.
Brandi's heels clicked sharply against the pavement as she approached her parents' house. The late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the driveway. She walked with purpose, her confidence a carefully constructed shield against the doubts creeping at the edges of her mind.
The plan was simple: get in, explain things to her Dad, and be there for him so he doesn't feel alone. Her mom had left shortly after six, and her dad rarely made it home before seven-thirty. That gave her plenty of time. She had rehearsed her lines the entire drive, perfecting every word. "Daddy, we have to talk," she whispered to herself, imagining his reaction -- confusion, maybe even denial. But in the end, he'd understand. He had to. This was the right thing to do for everyone.
She stepped onto the porch and took a deep breath before opening the door. The familiar scent of coffee greeted her, mingling with the quiet stillness of the house. A faint smile tugged at her lips. Everything was as it should be. Good -- he wasn't home yet.
Brandi entered the hallway, already planning her next move. She would sit at the kitchen table, wait for Dad, and deliver her carefully crafted speech. He'd see the logic in it, the kindness of her intentions. He'd thank her for helping Mom, for helping him.
But as she stepped into the kitchen, her steps faltered. Her dad was already there.
He sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but the steady, deliberate way he looked at her made her heart skip a beat. The air seemed heavier, the confidence she'd carried on the walk in faltering under his gaze.
"Oh," she said, forcing a smile as she tried to regain her footing. "You're home early."
Jason didn't respond immediately. He watched her, his silence stretching just long enough to make her uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to deliver her rehearsed lines, but before she could speak, his voice cut through the stillness.
"Brandi," he said, his tone calm but firm, "we have to talk."
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Two Weeks Earlier.
Maggie sat on the couch, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The television played softly in the background, but her attention wasn't on the screen. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, filled with uncertainty and the lingering ache of dissatisfaction she hadn't been able to shake for months.
She looked up as Brandi walked into the room, phone in hand and an air of confidence that Maggie couldn't help but envy. Her daughter's sharp eyes took in the scene, her brow furrowing slightly as she approached.
"Mom," Brandi said, sitting down beside her. "What's wrong? You've been distracted lately. Is it Dad?"
Maggie hesitated, caught off guard by the question. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I guess... maybe."
Brandi leaned closer, her tone soft but pointed. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
Maggie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It's just... things with your dad have been so routine lately. I love him, Brandi, but I feel like we've lost something. It's like we're just going through the motions."
Brandi nodded thoughtfully, her expression serious. "You're in a rut," she said matter-of-factly. "That happens, Mom. But the question is -- what are you going to do about it?"
Maggie frowned, unsure. "What do you mean?"
Brandi placed a hand on Maggie's arm, her tone shifting to one of gentle persuasion. "Mom, I've been thinking. You need to do something for yourself. Something that shakes things up, reminds you of who you are outside of being a wife and mom."
Maggie tilted her head, confusion and skepticism etched across her face. "Like what?"
Brandi smiled, her confidence growing. "A date."
Maggie's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"Not with Dad," Brandi clarified quickly. "With someone new. Just one night, Mom. And if it all works out, you could give that lucky someone a happy ending!"
"Brandi, that's ridiculous. I could never do that. I love your father."
"And you still will," Brandi countered, her tone soft yet insistent. "This isn't about Dad, Mom. It's about you -- about rediscovering the excitement you've been missing."
Maggie hesitated, her resolve wavering. "I don't know... It feels wrong."
Brandi leaned forward, locking eyes with her mother. "Mom, think about it -- when was the last time you felt truly excited? When was the last time you did something for yourself? Just trust me. One night won't change anything. You'll come back more in love with Dad than ever"
Before Maggie could respond, Brandi reached for her mom's phone and unlocked it. "Look, there's this guy, Alexander. He's charming, respectful, and absolutely your type. I've already talked to him about this."
"Wait -- what?" Maggie asked, her voice rising, watching on as her daughter typed rapidly. "Brandi, don't tell me you're -- "
"I am, and I did," Brandi said, turning the screen toward Maggie. The text read: Looking forward to our date in two weeks. Can't wait to see you. Maggie's breath hitched as she realized the message had already been sent.
"Brandi, you can't just -- "
"It's done," Brandi interrupted, her tone brisk but reassuring. "On the day of the date you'll leave by 6 PM and meet him at the restaurant at 7. I'll be here to explain everything to Dad when he gets home. Trust me, Mom. This is exactly what you need."
Maggie's heart raced. "I don't know... What if he doesn't understand?"
"He will," Brandi said confidently. "Spend the next two weeks reminding him how much you love him. Show him there's nothing to worry about. And when I talk to him, he'll see that this is about you, not about anything else."
Maggie bit her lip, torn between the voice of reason in her head and the persuasive pull of Brandi's words. Finally, she gave a small, reluctant nod. "I guess... Maybe you're right."
Brandi beamed, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. "That's the spirit, Mom. Just trust me. Everything's going to be fine."
