It's the morning after, and the last thing I want is to go home…to Dan.That's if he's even there.
Knowing him, he's probably spent the night at Charles' place. He always does when he needs to disappear. Charles is Dan's only real friend. The one person whose name, when mentioned, means I'm not allowed to ask further questions.
Not like Dan cares whether I worry or not.
He doesn't care about much that involves me these days.
I shift under the sheets and feel the warmth of another body. I'd almost forgotten someone was in bed with me.
My gaze drifts to his face. Alex, Dan's boss.I didn't plan this. I didn't set out to have an affair.
It was just another Friday. Dan had gone to Charles' again, left me behind—like always. I was alone, Off work.On leave.My employer had given me time to mourn the baby.It had been over a year, and still, the pain sat heavy. I was tired of licking wounds no one else seemed to see.
So I went out. Alone. For drinks. I met Alex there. Of course, I know him—Dan's boss. I'd always had the sense he liked me more than he should. We drank, talked and laughed until midnight. It felt good. It felt new. I didn't resist. We spent the night together.
When I got home, Dan was already gone for work, and when he came back that evening, he didn't ask where I'd been.Not even a glance.
No suspicion. No care.
I think that's what pushed me back to Alex.Again.And again.
Alex stirs in his sleep and finally open his eyes slowly to meet mine "Morning," he says, voice hoarse.
I nod.
My lips press into a line, unsure what to say.
Not "good morning", not "last night was a mistake, we have to stop seeing eachother. "Just nothing.
"You okay?" he asks, looking at me. Not the way Dan looks at me. Or doesn't.
I pull the sheets tighter around my chest and glance away. "I'm fine."
He doesn't buy it. Of course he doesn't.
"You don't have to pretend," he says gently. "I know this wasn't… planned."
I give a dry laugh, hollow. "You think?"
" Hmm" he hums, sleep still in his voice as he shifts and leans back against the bed frame.
I turn to look at him. Really look.His face is relaxed in the morning light, jaw sharp, lashes too long for a man.He's handsome. Too handsome.A 6'7 god, really.The kind of man women fight over. Smart, powerful, ridiculously rich, and let's be honest, very good in bed.
In another life, I'd show him off. In another life, he might have even been mine.
I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling. The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Then, softly, I say, "I shouldn't be here."
"But you are," he replies, and he takes my hand. I let him. His palm is warm, steady in a way mine hasn't felt in a long time. I watch our hands for a while. Like they don't belong to us. Like they're part of some other story.
"Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's life?" I ask.
He tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" I shrug. "This house. This bed. You. Me. I'm not supposed to be here.
He doesn't speak right away. And I'm not sure if I want him to.
Then, quietly, he says, "I think a lot of people walk around pretending the life they planned is still the life they're living."
I glance at him. "Is that what you're doing?"
He breathes out a laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Yeah. Probably."
A beat.
"I was married once," he adds.
That catches me off guard. "You were?"
He nods, eyes distant. "Long time ago. Didn't last. We were young, and I think we both wanted to feel needed more than we wanted to be known."
I say nothing.There's something sobering about hearing that.
"I'm sorry about the baby," he says, softer this time. "You never talk about it, but… I know."
I blink hard. "Everyone avoids it. Like bringing him up will shatter me. Like grief is contagious."
"It's not," he says. "But it's heavy. And people are selfish with what they're willing to carry."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat."I don't know why I came here," I whisper.
"You needed someone, that's why" he says simply.
"I don't want to need anyone."
"Too late."
That makes me look at him again.
His face isn't smug. It isn't proud.
Just… honest.
"Hmm… I should get going. You should too, CEO," I say with a smirky smile, pulling my hand from his.
He smirks right back. "Can't we just stay in all day? I am the CEO. Who's going to fire me?" He relaxes deeper into the bed, hands behind his head like he owns the morning.
"I have to work from home," I say, reaching for the robe slung over the chair. "And to be honest… I don't want to take this, us, any farther than we already have."
He watches me quietly. Doesn't fight it. Doesn't agree either.
I start to stand, but the room tilts, just for a second. I sink back down onto the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to my forehead.
"Hey…are you okay?" Alex is up in an instant, already moving toward me.
"I'm fine," I say quickly, even though I don't sound it. "Just felt a little… sick. I'll be okay."
He hovers for a moment, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read the truth under my skin.
I force a small smile, then push myself back up, slower this time.
I close the bathroom door behind me and lean against it for a moment, letting out a slow breath. I catch my reflection in the mirror and almost flinch. My hair's a mess, eyes puffy from sleep, I look like someone I don't know.
I splash cold water on my face.Twice. Then again.Still tired.Still raw.
Fingers rake through tangled strands as I twist them into a loose knot. For a long moment, I just watch my own eyes—blank, heavy, too tired.
Sliding into the tub, knees drawn close, I let the silence wrap around me. Half an hour passes in stillness. Nothing about last night made anything better. Dan knows. I went back anyway. It didn't heal me. But it didn't destroy me either. It just… was.
A wave of nausea nudges at me again, faint but irritating. I shake it off. Probably just the gin. Or the guilt. Or both.
Alex is still there,when I finally come out of the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his phone. When he hears the door, he looks up.
"You sure you're okay?"
I nod. "I'm good." Even if it's a lie.
He doesn't argue. Just stands and walks me to the door.
"When can I see you again?" He says, pulling the door open
"I'm not sure, Alex. How about… when I need you?"
He nods. A small smile flickers across his lips, unreadable, calm, maybe even a little sad.
I hear the door shut behind me.
The weather is beautiful today. Sunlight filters through the clouds just right, like the universe forgot how messy my life is. If things were different, if my life were good, this might've been a perfect day.
I step into my car and crank the music to the highest volume. That's the one thing I still enjoy about driving alone, singing loudly, like no one's watching. No filters. No holding back.
The ride home is short. Familiar.Too familiar. I have driven on this same road for more than six months, that's how long my affair with Alex has been.
As I turn into the driveway, I see Dan's car parked in the center of our compound.
I pause.
He's home.Why?
It's a Wednesday morning, he should be at work. He's always at work.
I sit there for a moment, engine off, fingers still resting on the keys. Then I gather my things slowly, like stalling might change whatever's waiting inside.
The front door creaks open.
He doesn't come out, but his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade.
"I want a divorce."