Infidelity

pte

hains and B

ance, lips painted in fire-engine red, hair always falling in sultry waves. Born to allure and schooled in ambition, she was a woman

etrayal. She was married to Phil Philips, an accountant with precision in numbers but none in affection. He loved order. She thrived in disorder. He built

don't stay still. And hurricanes don't like to be caged. Slowly, Phil tried to tame her with cold stability, with roles and expectations. Ant

her name, not her label. Lovers some reckless, others poetic became the therapy she couldn't

like a hymn. He touched her like she was sacred. With him, A

a price. And se

rehearsed intimacy. Their bedroom was cold. Their conversations, colder. Yet every Sunday, they still held hands at church. Phil

net. But inside, she was split in two: the dutiful wife, and the insatiable rebel. The

w it. Sh

sed her legs, and smiled for pictures. All while

raine's apartment, her lipstick smeared at the corners, her blouse buttoned in haste. She was humm

r came h

ad like it was a weapon. The TV was off. The lights dim. The only soun

e f

eak. He just ta

en she

es of pleasure. A man's grunting. The squ

s all

onia on top, eyes closed, lost in sin. The

. It showed calculation. A rehearsed calm. Like he h

asked, voice steady. "What a

her mouth. N

rom guilt, but from confusion.

nt of scotch and silence wr

some

oice broke. "I don't

re my

"I was your wife. Now

Then, almost tenderly,

s. When you stopped asking who I was. When you st

iPad screen faded to black. The ai

omething that mad

only one who s

d cracked

. Betrayed by someone who