Mother In Parallel World

Yasin was slightly startled. Without thinking further, he swiftly stepped back a few paces and decisively turned around, retreating into the room.

"Bang!"

The door slammed shut behind him.

Yasin let out a long sigh of relief.

Given his current abilities, trying to fight his way out would have been nearly impossible.

If the zombies managed to surround him, he would be as good as dead.

One-on-one combat against these strange creatures wasn't an issue for him, but no matter how skilled he was, he couldn't take on a horde alone. Once they got close, it would be over.

A single bite or scratch would mean immediate infection, an irreversible transformation into one of them.

"Who… who are you? Are you okay? You weren't hurt, were you?" A cautious and slightly fearful female voice broke the silence.

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Yasin took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"I'm fine. I wasn't injured. Thank you for saving me."

As he spoke, he turned toward the woman.

And in that moment—he froze completely.

A strange sense of familiarity rushed over him, an inexplicable connection forming in his mind.

Long, slightly wavy chestnut hair, a defined nose, deep blue eyes framed by long lashes, alluring red lips, a tall, slender, and exquisitely curvaceous figure… and when she bent down slightly, the slightest glimpse of her soft, pale skin beneath her collar.

This woman was none other than Vivian Sinclair—his mother from the parallel second world.

Yasin's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at her.

It was 1993.

Vivian Sinclair was only 25 years old.

Her first son, Yasin Brant—who, in the second world, was actually him—hadn't even been born yet.

At this point in time, Vivian was still a rising supermodel, just beginning to make her mark on the world.

She had the vitality of youth, the firmness of unblemished skin, and an astonishing beauty that was both sensual and elegantly pure—an irresistible combination of allure and innocence.

Though she was the same Vivian Sinclair, the one before him now carried a vastly different aura compared to the one he knew in the second world.

One exuded the confidence of a mature woman, the other, the vibrant charm of youth.

Yet both versions of her shared an undeniable, breathtaking appeal—an intoxicating mix of beauty, elegance, and natural seduction.

Regardless of age, she was the kind of woman who could drive men to obsession.

If Yasin remembered correctly, around this time, Vivian Sinclair had been ranked as the second most beautiful woman in the world.

Seeing her in person at this moment, he realized that no photograph or description could truly capture what it meant to be a real-life goddess.

It wasn't just her looks—it was the energy she exuded, an almost supernatural magnetism.

And Yasin, despite himself, felt his heart stir.

At the same time, Vivian was also stunned.

As she gazed at the unfamiliar man before her, an overwhelming urge welled up within her—an almost instinctive desire to pull him into her arms, to run her fingers through his hair, to hold him close and let herself cry.

The feeling only grew stronger, impossible to suppress.

She had never had children, never known a mother's love, yet somehow, this emotion surged from the depths of her soul.

"Thank God… I found you."

Vivian could no longer hold back. The fear and loneliness of being trapped here for over two weeks finally broke her composure.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Yasin, pressing her lips softly against his cheek as she trembled with emotion.

Because of the height difference—Yasin standing at only 5'7"—his head naturally rested against her shoulder, nestled against her warmth.

Yasin could feel her softness against him—the plush curves of her chest, the slight firmness beneath, and from his position, the undeniable view of her smooth, ivory skin.

A rush of heat surged through him, a forbidden thought flickering in his mind before he forcefully pushed it away.

No.

Not only had they just met in this world, but she had just saved his life.

Taking advantage of her kindness, especially in a world as broken as this, would make him no better than a beast.

And in another world… she was his mother.

Yasin held Vivian in return, gently rubbing her back, his palm brushing over the curve of her waist as he tried to comfort her.

It was meant as a simple act of reassurance.

But as his hands rested against her firm yet supple hips, a different sensation flooded his senses—one that sent heat pulsing through his veins.

Soft. Smooth. Perfectly shaped.

A body sculpted like a masterpiece.

Vivian Sinclair had the most exquisite figure he had ever seen—there was no doubt about it.

Every touch, every subtle movement, was maddening.

If Lena Whitmore was the refined elegance of a goddess, then Vivian Sinclair was the embodiment of pure, untamed temptation.

A dangerous thought crept into Yasin's mind—what it would feel like to hold her hips tighter, to claim the softness before him, to lose himself in the forbidden…

His body reacted before he could control it, a growing tension pressing against her.

Vivian seemed to notice immediately.

For a brief moment, her breath hitched. Then, realization dawned, and a soft blush colored her cheeks.

An inexplicable guilt swept through her, as though she had just woken from a strange, forbidden dream.

"I'm sorry… I've been alone here for so long. Seeing you, it was just… overwhelming."

Vivian smiled shyly, quickly wiping away the last of her tears.

"You must be starving. I have food and water."

With that, she turned around, bending slightly as she rummaged through the mini-fridge.

Yasin almost choked.

The tight black leather shorts clung to her every curve, the white jacket doing little to conceal the smooth skin beneath.

And from his angle…

The perfect arch of her hips.

The deep, tantalizing divide above.

The barely hidden valley below.

Temptation in its purest form.

His mind went blank, his self-control hanging by a thread.