The hallway air was cool against my flushed skin, my bare feet silent on the wooden floor. I had crept out of my room the moment I heard the muffled rhythm from behind their door, an ancient drumbeat I knew too well yet could never resist. The door was not fully closed. A finger-wide gap spilled soft amber light onto the corridor carpet, and through that sliver I watched my parents tangled on their bed like serpents in slow combat.

Mummy lay on her back, her thick black hair a wild fan over Papa's pillow. Papa knelt between her legs, his broad back rising and falling with each deep breath. I could see the sweat glistening in the dip of his spine, the way his shoulders bunched as he leaned forward to capture her mouth. But Mummy, playful and teasing, planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.