" Did you sleep with him?"
His voice cuts through the air like a blade. A fist slams down on the kitchen counter, sharp, loud, and final.
I don't flinch. I stay where I am, my back against the wash basin, arms limp at my sides. I say nothing. What's the point? He knows now. The secret's out, and there's no pretty way to say what I did.
He's pacing now, sharp, erratic strides, jaw locked, eyes blazing. I could lie. I could say it meant nothing. But I'm tired. And maybe… just maybe… a part of me wanted him to find out.
I remember his hands, steady, sure. I remember the way he looked at me that first night like I was a woman, not a problem.
His voice in my ear: "You deserve to be wanted."
My dress slipped off my shoulder. I didn't stop it.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even lust. It was an escape. And I took it. Escape from my marriage, from my life with Dan. It felt like he saw me, I have never felt so desirable…
"Answer me!" Dan roars. Interrupting my thoughts
Still, I don't move.
Then, finally, "Yes. I did."
Silence swallows the room whole. I wish I didn't do it. I could have said no to him, and gone home to meet my husband but the truth is, there has been no husband to meet for a long time now. We have been living like flatmates ever since we lost our baby.
The fridge hums. A spoon rattles in the sink. He stops pacing and looks at me like I've grown horns.
His voice lowers, dangerously calm."Why?"
I meet his gaze. Steady. Unapologetic."You. You're the reason I slept with him, Dan."
He stares at me, something flickering behind his eyes. Disbelief. Anger. Hurt. Then he turns and storms out of the kitchen, into the sitting room.
I hear him pacing again, faster this time, footsteps on wood, uneven breathing. I stay frozen for a moment, unsure. Do I follow? Or let him walk away? But my feet move anyway.
I step into the room, and before I can speak, he spins around. "Do you even understand what you've done?"
" Do you realize what you've done, Dan? Do you realize what you have been doing? I watched you walk out of this house every day, leaving me here. Alone. With my grief. I craved your comfort and all I had was the silence of this house."
I pause. Let the words sink in.
"So I'll ask again. Do you realize what you have done?"
He looks at me, in disbelief. I wonder what's going through his mind. We have not spoken about this since it happened and a part of me knows we never will. When we lost our baby, Dan said nothing to me. No words. No arms. No comfort.
We came back from the hospital, and he took his pillow and walked straight into the guest room without a word to me. He left me alone to mourn. Alone to bleed and cry in a bed that was supposed to be ours.
I tried to talk about it, days later and all he said was, "Not today, Annalise."
That was two years ago. We still haven't spoken about it.
He finally finds his voice, strained now, almost desperate."Do you realize the gravity of this?"
"Yes..." I don't blink. "...and I'd do it again. This is all your fault, Dan."
There's a pause. Something in him breaks. His shoulders drop just slightly like the wind's been knocked out of him.
"Was it just once?" he asks, but his voice isn't angry anymore, it's… hollow.
I say nothing. And we both know silence is not enough. Because the truth? It wasn't. It has developed into a full-blown affair. He makes me feel things I have forgotten I could feel. Things I never thought I would feel again. He makes me forget. Forget the silence. Forget the crib we never took down. Forget the man who used to hold me like I mattered.
Then it hits. His mask slips. His mouth twists.
"Not only are you a whore…"He takes a step closer, rage reigniting. "You don't even know how to take accountability. Do you have any idea what it does to a man when his wife sleeps with his boss?"
I let out a small laugh. Not loud. Just bitter. "This was never about me, Dan. Or how you feel about me. It's always been about your ego. This whole conversation proves it."
I take a breath, "To answer you, yes. I know what this does to a man. I knew what it would do to you and that's why I did it"
" You are despicable " he hisses, eyes screaming fire.
I step past him. Slowly. Calmly.To the large couch in the sitting room.
Resting my hand on the armrest, I feel the fabric under my fingers. Soft. Familiar.This couch.This exact one.The one that soaked up my tears when I couldn't bring myself to sleep in our room.Not when he left me there, night after night, with only silence to hold.
I would curl up here in the dark, knees to my chest, listening to the clock tick. Not a word from him.Not a touch.Not even a glance across the hallway. I bled in silence. Grieved in silence. And when the silence became louder than the pain, I stopped waiting for him to come back.
I drag my fingers along the seam of the cushion as if I'm trying to trace the outlines of my own suffering. There are no stains now. No visible proof. But this couch remembers. It remembers the nights I bit down on a pillow to keep from screaming. The mornings I sat here with swollen eyes, asking myself why I wasn't enough to make him feel anything. The ache of a woman whose arms were meant to hold a child… but held nothing at all.
He stood at the edge of my grief and never stepped in. And now he's angry because someone else did?
I look up at him and for a long minute, we stare at each other in silence.
Finally, he scoffs and runs a hand through his hair like he's trying to rip something out of his scalp.
"Damn, woman." He grabs his keys off the table and places his wedding band on it.
"I'm done with this conversation. I'm not spending the night breathing the same air as you." He opens the door and I hear his car drive off.
****
I sit on my favorite couch, the fabric warm beneath me, but I feel cold. Colder than I've felt in a long time.
I try to cry, I wait for the tears, but they don't come. It's like my body has forgotten how. Maybe it's because I already cried everything I had the night I lost my baby. Or maybe because tonight, I knew how this would end and still walked into it.
I stare at the ceiling. Still. Breath shallow. Eyes blank. I try to stay grounded in this moment, not to let my mind wander. But it drifts anyway, To him.
I glance toward my phone on the coffee table. I don't touch it. I don't move. I just stare at the phone as if the phone itself is daring me to break again.
A sharp bite to the inside of my cheek steadies me .No. Not tonight. Not after this, but my hand moves before I decide. My fingers wrap around the phone like they belong there. This is muscle memory, a habit I haven't unlearned.
His name stares back at me from the screen. I don't press it. Not yet. The glow feels like a pulse in my palm. Do I want comfort…Or do I want to forget? Maybe a little bit of both.
He picked on the first ring as if he'd been waiting for me.
" I need you", my voice is low, like a whisper. I keep quiet as he tells me the address, our favorite hotel.
Upstairs, the water runs as I undress slowly, like confession peeling layer by layer, but I know that when the night ends, I'll be guilty again.
I decided to wear my red dress, the one I was wearing the night I met Dan. This dress holds sentimental value to me because it was that night I felt something new. Love. It was love at first sight. Looking back now, this is not the life I had imagined.
I put my hair up in a bun and apply my red lipstick as I walk down the stairs and out the door. Halfway down the street, I pause my car. It hits me, a strange, sharp feeling, I've forgotten something. I dig through my purse. The phone's there. Wallet. Lipstick. Everything's in place.
I finally realize…The only thing I forgot was the last shred of guilt I had.