Found Out About My Wife’s Affair When I Walked In On Them in Our Bed

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I held the cold metal tightly, like my life depended on it. The gun fit in my hand as if it was made just for me. My finger hovered over the trigger, trembling with tension. One small squeeze and everything would change. The power I felt was overwhelming. It shouldn't be this simple to end a life, but it was.

Tears streamed down my face as my chest ached with emotions I couldn't control. Anger, sadness, and hopelessness fought for space in my mind. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, each one screaming louder than the last. "Do it! Just pull the trigger!" an angry voice urged me. Another voice, the pain, was sobbing, while hopelessness just wanted it all to end. They were all shouting over the small, quiet part of me that was still rational, begging me to stop. It said this choice would change everything, that I'd never go back to who I was before. But that voice was fading. Because honestly, things were already different. She had made sure of that when she picked him over me. It was her fault. She did this. Now it was time for her to pay for what she had done.

The horrific day that she told me that our life together was over was a week ago. With a voice filled with regret and a lump in her throat, she told me that she had to go. She had to be with him, her love. I wish that I could claim that I took the news like a man. I wish I could say that I told the witch to kick rocks on her way out of my life forever and slammed the door definitively shut behind her. But I didn't do any of that. Instead, I forfeited all of my dignity, every last ounce of it. I laid it at her feet as I begged her not to go. I begged, sitting there weeping like a widow at a funeral, pleading with her to love me, to love me more than she loved him. We'd been through so much. We had plans for the future. We were going to take our child and move into that big house that she loved. It was her dream house. She'd envisioned herself in a house like it since she was a child. And yet, those plans weren't enough for her to choose to stay with me. Our love wasn't strong enough to keep her from going to his bed again and again behind my back. It certainly wasn't enough for her to let him go.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I love you, I really do, but I can't give him up. I have to go with my heart," she cried as she hugged me, pleading with me to understand. I could feel the wetness on her cheeks as she pressed into my face. Her ragged breaths danced on my neck with each sob. What was it that she wanted me to understand? Did she honestly expect me to make this easier for her? Was I supposed to just give her my blessing to go find happiness without me? Was she insane? I gave her my everything. Everything. I would have given more had she asked. But this, this was something that I would never give her. I would never give her my blessing to be with another man. How can any man accept that? How can he just sit idly by while the woman he loves lays with another man?

"I'm going to kill her. She has to die." I aimed at her back. The iron sight that jutted from the front of the pistol was perfectly placed between the two in the back, just like I practiced at the range. It was perfectly level, pointing directly to the spot on her spine that I wanted to obliterate. Bullseye. I could end her at any moment, and she wouldn't even know what hit her.

My mind started to picture images of her making love to the lover. Even the softness of her silhouette was beautiful. How could a scene so lovely and erotic be so detestable? My mind taunted me with memories of me loving her and getting her satisfied. The look of content and love in her eyes. I have seen it so many times that I could probably close my eyes and draw a picture. My mind wandered again on both of them engaged in the act of passion. They'd completely surrendered their bodies to the moment. They were like passengers on a blissful ride. I remembered the days that she and I were in sync like that. Damn it. It was only a week ago. The scum sucker hands fondling her sickened me to the point of almost throwing up. Hearing him groan in tune with her was another stab to the chest. I could see his eyes roaming lustfully and appreciatively over her. The heat in the room was several degrees hotter than the rest of the house. It was like their act was burning at a temperature that defied the laws of physics. So was my rage. They were so into each other that they didn't even know I was in the room. They failed to hear me come into the house, climb the stairs, and creak open the door. Now they faced imminent death and were none the wiser. They were lost in their sea of Nirvana. I would change that into a river of blood and retribution.

How could she be with him? How could she just fall out of love with me so easily? No matter what she said, she couldn't love me and do this to me. No person who loves someone would break their heart so effortlessly. Did she ever love me? My heartbeat quickened, both with anger and anticipation. I mentally prepared myself for the sudden bang that would come after I pulled the trigger. I feebly tried to calm my nerves and stop my hands from shaking. Shooting paper targets at the range was one thing, but this. Tears stung my eyes as my vision blurred. Keeping the gun steady was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. I wanted their death so badly that I could taste their blood, but I couldn't get over my inner voice. My demonic passengers tried to silence him, but he was there, begging to be heard. "This is wrong." He was right. This was wrong. But standing there watching their harmonized love-making was the hardest thing I ever had to do. It was like they were dancing to their own music. His hands moved knowingly along her body, like they belonged there. In that moment, I realized how much he knew her. He knew her body, every inch. She was a liar. She told me that her body was only for me. I was the only one blessed with the privilege of enjoying her womanly form. She told me that she belonged to me. But this holy was laying there, relishing in the thought that he was making love to a woman who belonged to him.

The bullets begged me to be released from their chamber. They had a fervent desire to do what they were created to do. They needed to fulfill their purpose. They were hungry. They had an insatiable craving for blood. His blood, her blood. They would even take mine if I were willing. I felt my finger tightening on the trigger. I blinked my eyes to clear the wetness. My sights were once again set firmly on her back. I could plainly see my target once again. I knew exactly where the bullet would enter and what damage it would do to her. It wouldn't kill her right away. She would still have a few moments of breath left. That would be long enough for her to see him join her on her journey to Hell. "Die, you witch! Die in pain!" Just before I released hell and torment, I saw our son. He wasn't physically in the room, more like a flash of memory in my head. I saw his face, that looked like me, his smile, his hair. Noah Jr. was a carbon copy of me. My finger loosened as his eyes peered into my soul. How could I do this to him? This act of vengeance wouldn't end with the cheating witch bleeding in her lover's arms. That would only be the beginning for Bobby. My retribution would be at his expense. I wasn't the most attentive dad. I wasn't there for him like a father should be. I was virtually a stranger to him. Yet, I loved him in my own way. I loved him. Did I love him enough to let his mother get away with burning my heart? Did I love him enough to let bygones be bygones for his sake? Yes, I did. At that thought, the gun started to lower. It was no longer set on her back. I died a little more inside as I allowed my opportunity for justice to slip away. I needed this. I really needed this. But he needed her more than I needed retribution.

With my decision made, I started to slowly back out of the room. I silently, easily took each step as I made my retreat. In the background, the two fools continued to make love, completely oblivious to how close they came to meeting their end. I was almost out, almost free from the grip of revenge. My soul remained intact. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. Just when I made up my mind to do the decent thing, I heard it. No, it wasn't the sound of her exploding in a climax that sent the death shot through me. That did hurt, but not as much as what came after. "I love you, baby." Her soft voice was barely a whisper, but the words were deafening. Those four words consumed me instantly, filling me with such agony that it nearly crippled me. She'd said those same words to me in that very tone. They came out in a breathy voice that was shaking due to her current state, yet they were brimming with love and affection. She loved him. She loved him instantly. I fell overboard and was drowning in a sea of pain, hopelessness, despair, and white-hot fury. I couldn't swim, couldn't breathe. The water was too choppy, the waves were too strong. The more I fought it, the more my lungs were burning as they filled. Finally, I gave in. I wasn't strong enough to fight it. Fate won. They had to die. I would end their world forever, but not like this, not with this gun. I would not grant them the peace that a silent death would provide. I wanted them to hurt as much as I was hurting. I wanted them to feel the loss that I felt. They would not feel that if they died. One of their last memories would be of the sweet love that they made. That just wouldn't do. I wanted something else. I wanted to rip them from each other's arms, kicking and screaming. I wanted to tarnish everything about their love. I wanted to take everything that they held dear and choke them with it. I left them to their love. I would grant them a reprieve for tonight, just for tonight. I hope they enjoyed it. It would be my last gift to them.

"The pen is mightier than the sword." - Edward Bulwer-Lytton. I was going to kill them a thousand times over, using a more powerful weapon than my Glock 19. I would make them wake up every morning and rue their existence, using a simple device: a pen.

Thirty minutes later, I walked into my empty apartment with a sinister smile on my face. The sadness and the pain that I felt were masked by my unquenchable desire to see them suffer. I wanted to see her face contorted with loss so deep that it matched what I saw in the mirror when I thought of her. I sat down at my desk and pulled out a pen and a pad, then I began to write. The words spilled out of me like vomit. My pain was regurgitated and splashed across the paper. It took five drafts until I read what I wrote and was satisfied. Then I sealed their fate into an envelope, stamped it, and walked to the nearest mailbox to drop it in. I could have simply put it as outgoing mail in my mailbox, but I had to take the walk and drop it in to ensure that I couldn't change my mind. Once I dropped the letter into the mailbox, I was left with the lonely feeling of being rejected, as well as the anger of being betrayed. As I trudged back to my apartment, my shoulders sagged with the weight of the world. Goddamn it, I hated her guts. I hated her. I still loved her. My pride didn't want to admit it, but I did. I would love her for some time. However, I had a small nugget of hope left in me. I knew that life would move on one way or the other. No matter what happened to Sophia, the days would turn into weeks, which would morph into months and years. One day, all of today's events would fade into the ether of history. It would turn into a sad story of my past. Tomorrow's current events would overshadow today. When I reached my doorstep, I snickered to myself at one final thought: Approximately 3 days from now, I will have altered her life in such a way that she will never forget me, no matter how much time passed. She will never be able to brush me off as a historical blip on her life story. I will be the man who changed her future.

The letter.

Dear Ethan Spencer,

My name is Alex. You don't know me, so don't bother yourself trying to jog your memory to place my face. We did meet once about 4 years ago, but I doubt you even remember me. It was at the New Year Gala that the company throws every year. You were so engrossed in conversation with Clara that you barely even noticed me. The way you looked at her and danced with her made it seem like no one else was in the room. No matter how many times she has professed her love for me, it didn't match the way she looked at you that night. I knew it then. I knew that she was in love with you more than she was with me. That was the first time I even knew you were alive. Before then, she'd never mentioned you around the office. She didn't even wear her wedding ring once she stepped foot in that building. You didn't exist.

I wasn't supposed to be there at that party. She tried to come up with every excuse to keep me at home, but I insisted. I wanted to be with her that night, so I ignored her lame reasoning and came anyway. Boy, did I get the surprise of my life. I should have tossed her to the curb and ran like hell, but I couldn't. I refused to believe it, no matter what my head was telling me. The truth was, instead, I believed her lies when she told me that you didn't matter to her and that I was the only love of her life. I believed them because my heart wanted to.

Even though I know you, you don't know me. However, you know the woman that I love. You know her well. You see, you know her because you were married to her. She and I have been having an affair for 4 years now. I know what you're thinking. Yes, we have been together for a little more than a third of your marriage. Most likely, you were chalking this up as a mistake. Maybe this letter was meant to be delivered to another loser of a husband, or maybe I am confusing your Clara with another woman who shares the same name. That last shred of hope that you are desperately trying to cling to will let you believe that your wife would ever do that to you. At this point, I could prove it to you by describing intimate parts of her body. You know, parts that a man wouldn't have knowledge of unless he had seen her in the throes of passion. I could indeed do this, but I don't have to. I have proof that is far more accurate. My son. All you have to do is test Noah Jr. What am I saying? I am saying that your son isn't your son. He's my son. I am his biological father. He may have your name, but he has my blood. Don't believe me? Well, it's a good thing that we live in a world of opportunities to get to the truth. All it would take is a swab of his cheek. But it will save you the time. Enclosed with this letter is a copy of the paternity test that your wife took a couple of years ago. She doesn't know that I have it. She destroyed the original. However, as she slept in my bed after she showed it to me, I made a copy. Maybe I subconsciously knew that the three of you's would end up here tonight.

I was in your house. I watched the two of you screwing in your bed. That was the hardest thing that I ever had to endure. I kept remembering Clara and I making love on that very bed. Every time you were out of town, I was there. You looked so satisfied. You were assured that she was yours and only yours. You want to hear something fun? Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway. I had that same assurance a little over a week ago, in that very bed. Those same words that she professed to you, she'd said to me many times over.

You're probably wondering how I got into your house without being detected and why I was there in the first place. Well, the how is easy. I know where you keep your spare key. I'd used it on multiple occasions to sneak into your house without the neighbors noticing. On those warm nights, I would climb your stairs and enter your bedroom. Clara would be there in your bed, waiting for me. I was able to remain undetected because I know your living room so well that I can walk around blindfolded and not bump into anything. I was able to get up the stairs quietly because I know which stairs are squeaky. Clara was always adamant about not waking our son. Yes, he was home, sleeping in his room, so she always made me tiptoe around.

Why was I there tonight? The answer to that is a little bit more complicated. No sense in beating around the bush, so I will just come out with it. I was there in your house to kill the two of you. You want to know what stopped me? My son. I knew that killing the two of you would change his life forever. I couldn't do that to him. He doesn't deserve that. I wish that I could tell you I'm sorry about all of this, but I'm not. You need to know what kind of woman you were married to. The love that you share with her is not exclusively yours. She is not exclusively yours. Before she decided to end things between us, she was trying to figure out how to leave you. We were going to make a life together. I don't know why she suddenly changed her mind and decided to make it work with you. I guess in that aspect, you won. But did you really? Does having this knowledge make her love less special? Does it hurt to know that she can give that love away so easily, since it isn't a rare item anymore? Does it make that love less valuable? Does that sadden you? I hope so. I hope that the pain that you were feeling makes you smarter than I was. I hope that you do what I should have done when I realized that her endearing words of love were nothing but lies.

If you are worried about having to look over your shoulder, don't. I will end this letter with a promise. You don't have to worry about me trying to finish what I started. I won't ever bother you again. You can call the law on me and have me arrested for breaking and entering if you want to, but embedding that you want, embedding that you realize that your beef isn't with me, just as I realize that mine isn't with you. Wouldn't you rather think of me as the guy who opened your eyes? I will never bother you again because the two of you are in my past. I need to let go of her and heal. I can survive the pain of losing her. Eventually, I will move on, and she will simply be a bullet that I dodged. What I can't survive is the pain that comes with constantly hating her. She isn't worth it, not anymore. If you want my advice, get rid of her. The loss that you feel when you do that will pale in comparison to what you will go through if you always have to wonder every day. You will ask yourself, "Is this the day that she leaves me for another man?" Trust me when I tell you, watching her walk out of your life is enough to drive a man to do unthinkable things. Take that advice for what it's worth.

Sincerely,

Over her,

Alex

3 years later. I checked my watch for the millionth time and glared at the pimply-faced teenager who couldn't figure out how to make a simple sandwich. How long does it take? If I'd known he would take this long, I would have gone back there and done it myself. I was already in a sour mood. It had been 3 years since I was last in this place. There were a lot of bad memories associated with it. My plans were to lock down this contract that my job sent me to do and get the hell out of Dodge. If I was lucky, I could do it without running into any ghosts from my past. Daniel. I never was lucky.

"I heard my name," practically whispered in a surprised tone as I stood in line waiting for my lunch order to be filled. The soft, melancholy voice floated from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know the owner. I'd memorized it at one time. Hearing her say my name would have sent my heart into fluttering palpitations, but not anymore. I turned to face the beautiful siren of my past. Clara. My eyes once again met hers, like they had done so many times before. A strange feeling of déjà vu washed over me. This was where we had our first date all those years ago. It wasn't exactly a date. It was more like a lunch with a coworker, at least that's what we told ourselves at the time. However, the undeniable physical attraction between us, as well as the growing sexual tension due to flirty banter laced with sexual innuendos, made our shared lunch anything but innocent. At that time, I knew nothing about her husband. To me, she was an available woman, but if in being completely honest, I wouldn't have cared much had I known. Once I looked into her eyes and heard her throaty laugh, I was lost. I fell into her spell, under her song, and ultimately met my doom. Yes, I felt the nostalgia of erotic memories that I'd shared with Clara, but there were also other memories that followed: heartbreak, loneliness, insanity.

Clara flashed a small smile and a wiggly-fingered wave when I faced her. "I thought that was you," she said after she gave me once-over. "Hey, Jess," I said as I involuntarily did the same to her. Old habits. She was still a knockout. I couldn't help but appreciate it. "Didn't expect to bump into you here." I was pleasantly surprised at how calm my inner demeanor was. My voice was even and filled with genuine cordiality. I didn't have to fake it at all. There was a time when just hearing her name, even if it belonged to another woman, sent me into a tailspin, but here I was, standing before the object of my demise, and I felt completely in control. "Same here. You fell off the face of the earth when you transferred." Her eyes broke contact for a moment and looked down. There was something resembling melancholy that passed over her face, but it was a quick flash. I nodded in acknowledgement. "Yeah, well, I had to get away. I needed a change of scenery, you know? I needed space." She nodded grimly at what was left unspoken. "Yeah, I think we both needed that." A moment of awkward silence followed. She looked like she was about to say something else, but I heard my number being called. I had to jerk away from the conversation to acknowledge the server. Once I made eye contact to let him know that the food was mine, I quickly returned my attention to Clara. "Well, this is my order. It was good seeing you, Jess." She gave me a thin-lipped smile and exhaled a little too loudly. She appeared to not be finished with this conversation and a little frustrated that we were cut short, but all she said was, "It was good seeing you too, Daniel." With that, I turned away from her to go grab my food. I was all set to leave, but when I passed by Clara on the way out of the door, she lightly grabbed my arm to stop me. "Hey Daniel, are you in a hurry? I was hoping that maybe we could, you know, talk. There were a lot of things left unsaid between us." I wanted to refuse. Memory lane wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but deep down, I knew that she was right. The air did need a bit of clearing. "Sure, I don't have to be back right away. They'll grab a table over there and wait for you," I said as I pointed out an empty table in the corner of the restaurant. She threw her head back and took a glance over her shoulder to see where I was pointing. Her hair fanned out with the quick motion of her head. If there were cameras pointed at her, that moment could have been slowed down and turned into a million-dollar shampoo commercial. "Okay, they'll grab my food and join you," she said with a smile.

I settled into my table and began to spread the contents of my lunch out. I was a little irritated because I had a Togo bag instead of an eaten tray, but using my bag as a makeshift plate wasn't too bad. About 5 minutes later, Clara sat in the chair opposite of me. Both of us ate in silence at first. This was her party, so I assumed that she would start things off. While I did have some burning questions that had plagued me for the past few years, I wasn't able to form the words to ask them. I was hoping that she would start talking and kind of lead into what I needed to know. Apparently, she had the same hope, so the two of us sat in awkward, tension-filled silence, chewing. Neither one of us was trying to make eye contact with each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her looking over at the far wall. I was also doing the same. Finally, she softly asked, "Why did you do that to me, Daniel? Why did you ruin my life?"

I looked at her and saw her eyes were filled with tears. "The gun? Or the letter? Both. The letter, mostly. I actually understand the gun, believe it or not. But you don't understand the letter?"

"Really?" she sniffled and wiped her eyes. "No, I don't. Not really. I can understand you wanting to kill me, though. I would never believe that you could go through with it. You're too good of a guy. But I would never expect you to go out of your way and intentionally hurt me like that. You set out to ruin my life with that letter. The way it was written, it was like you purposely chose wording that would do the most damage. I thought you were different than that."

I couldn't get a hold of what I felt hearing her say that. I was irritated, mostly. She broke my heart as effortlessly as a child would break fine china, and here she was, judging me for what I did in retaliation, not even judging me for trying to kill her. That she understood. She was hurt that I told the truth about her. Despite my righteous indignation, there was something else that I was feeling too. Believe it or not, I also felt guilty. Not guilty for what I did to her, but why I did it. After I got past the pain, I was able to look back on my time with Clara. All the memories that I had with her, all of the confessions of love, they weren't mine to have. They were his. I felt badly because I didn't do what I did because it was the right thing to do. I wasn't being honorable. I did it as a knee-jerk, passive-aggressive act of revenge for a broken heart. She was right. I was different than that. I had always been raised to do the right thing. My father taught me better than that. But the entire time I spent with her after I found out that she was married, I was someone that I didn't recognize. But it be damned if she is the one to judge me.

"You thought I was different than that? Are you serious? You know what? You thought that I would simply disappear and keep your dirty little secret. Am not the one who cheated on your husband, Clara. That was all you. I didn't know him. I didn't love him, but you did. You took those vows with him and then you broke them with me. Now you want to put the fallout of your failed marriage on me because I told him what you did to him? I'm calling [ __ ] on that one. If you want to blame someone for your marriage falling apart, look in the mirror."

Her head snapped to me. Our eyes finally connecting. I saw small embers of an angry fire behind them, but they died quickly. She couldn't fight the truth. She knew I was right. After a moment, her eyes once again broke contact, this time facing downwards at her food. "You're right," she reluctantly acknowledged.

Another awkward silence threatened to engulf us, so I decided that it was my turn to step up and ask what had been secretly bugging me even after all this time. "Why didn't you choose me? If your marriage was as bad and loveless as you claimed it was, why did you stay in it? After all those times that you told me you loved me and all of the plans that we made, you still stayed with him. Why?"

She chewed on a fry to avoid having to answer right away. I waited her out until she spoke again. It was her turn to keep this going. I wasn't going to bail her out by speaking first. "I did love you, Daniel. I did. I wanted to leave him and run away with you. When I was with you, it was like the entire world stopped moving. Nothing else mattered. When I was away from you, I was dreaming up ways to see you again. But..." she paused for a moment longer than she should have. I was afraid that she was running out of momentum. "...I loved him too. I'm sorry. I did. I know that I told you that our marriage was in trouble for a while. It was." Her eyes got a faraway look in them before she continued. "We were both really young when we met. In fact, I just turned 20 a few months prior. It was all about sex then. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. After just 6 months of dating, we got married. We didn't even have a proper wedding. That didn't matter at the time. The only thing we cared about was pledging our love for eternity. The first few years were great. We had sex every chance that we could, in every place that was semi-secluded. We couldn't go for more than a few hours without calling each other when we were separated. We even showered every morning together before we went to work. Then things became strained between us. Our jobs started to demand more of our time. Bills needed to get paid. We started having less time for each other because we were always working. When he got promoted, we thought it was an answer to our prayers, but it wasn't. It actually made the gap between us bigger. He was gone more because he had more responsibility. On top of that, I still had to work because even with him getting paid more, it wasn't enough. It seemed like when I was home, he wasn't, and vice versa. Then when we were home together, all we wanted to do was sleep and rest. That's when you met me."

"I interrupted, putting that piece together." "She nodded. 'Yeah. When I met you, I'd forgotten how it felt to be desired and infatuated. I mean, men had always looked at me, but something was different with you. You made me feel it, like he did when we first got together. That opened a world that I'd closed off inside of myself. The flirting, the sexy banter, all of it made me feel desirable. When I tried to reignite the sex life between Rob and I, he became frustrated, so I stopped trying with him. That is...' she looked up at me and caught my eye. I nodded in acknowledgement at her statement. 'So I'm guessing I was just supposed to be the workplace booty call, right?'"

"This time, she was the one who nodded at first. 'You were actually supposed to be a one-time thing. What changed?'"

"She looked at me with a coy smile and said, 'You. You were so good at it that I couldn't stop. I had to laugh at that. 'Thanks for the ego boost.' 'It wasn't meant as an ego boost. I was just telling you why I continued with you.' 'Okay, so you wanted a fly-by-night work romance, but I laid it down so well in the bedroom that you couldn't stop.' 'No ego boost over here, please. Feel free to continue,' I said with a playful smirk on my face as I sipped my drink. 'Anyways,' she said, shooting me a playful look as she threw a napkin at me. 'I continued to see you. The more I saw you, the closer I became with you. I was slowly slipping out of love with my husband.' This bouncy banter between us was reminiscent of a time long past, but this conversation wasn't meant to reignite those feelings. It was meant to get answers that we needed. 'Why didn't you just divorce him?' I asked, snapping us back. The playfulness was gone with that question, and the conversation was once again serious. Her face fell into a somber expression. 'Honestly, I don't know. I was certainly planning on it. I even spoke to divorce lawyers. I kept telling myself that I'd do it eventually. All I needed was the right time.' 'But you never did. Even though you always told me that you would,' I paused and rested my elbows on the table, clamping my hands together at the top and forming a triangle. I then rested my chin on my fists. With an exhale, I said, 'You want to know what I think? I think there was never a right time because you were never actually going to do it. Am I right?'"

She wiped the tear from her eye and nodded her head. "Yes." I pursed my lips up into a frown and bit back the vapid response that was trying to come out. I lifted my head up, took a deep breath, and chose my next words carefully. "You're going to have to help me out here, Jess, because it sounds to me like you're a heartless woman. Okay, I guess I didn't choose my words carefully enough." Still, my response was an honest one. She looked at me with hurting eyes that were filled with surprise. "I jumped in and continued, 'You want me to believe that you aren't this monster that I think you are, but the facts paint a different picture. You were married and you had me believing you were single. When I found out that you were married, you had me believing that it was in jeopardy, even though you just admitted that you had no real intention of ending it. I was initially supposed to be a part-time sex buddy, yet you went on dates with me, spoke about having a future with me, and even had my kid. We even looked for houses together, for God's sake. You even picked out the one that was just like what you dreamed your house would look like when you were a kid. But after all of that, you sit here and tell me that it was just some fantasy for you? I was a distraction to keep you entertained while you waited for your marriage to get back on track.'"

"It sounds so evil when you put it like that," she said, still hurt by my attack on her. I huffed out a cynical laugh. "It does, doesn't it? You should have told me that you were just playing a game to spice up your life. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten my heart involved." She took a minute to gather herself before she responded. "I wasn't trying to play you, Daniel. Things between us went faster than I thought they would, and I started getting confused. But you can't honestly sit there and play the unsuspecting victim. Yeah, I didn't tell you that I was married, but you found out at that New Year Gala. Did you leave? No. You still stayed. You engaged in a relationship with a married woman for years. You didn't give a crap about my husband. In fact, you wanted me to ditch him and put you in his place. Your sanctimonious need for truth and justice only came out after I didn't choose you. I may be a cheating piece of crap, but guess what? So are you. At least I have the decency to own up to it. After all this time, so please get down off your high horse and stop judging me like you were some unwitting dupe."

We were quiet for a moment, like we needed a break. I hated to admit it, but there was a lot of truth to what she was saying. I did have a hand in all of this. Sure, she still gets the lion's share, but I made a significant contribution to the crap splattering after it hit the fan. The only true victim in all of this was Rob. Still, she was insane if she felt that I was just as guilty as she was. Be that as it may, you still lied to me. Not just about being married, but about how little your marriage meant to you. You kept telling me that the two of you were on the rocks, but I saw the way that he looked at you that night. The way the two of you looked at each other. There was genuine love there. You led me to believe that there wasn't because you knew that if you told me the truth, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

"So that's what you think? You think that I concocted this entire scheme to get you to fall in love with me so that I could drop you at the last minute? Come on, Daniel." She shifted in her seat and crossed her arms. We sat in silence, listening to my watch tick the seconds by. All around us, people were conversing and eating merrily as if we didn't exist. Funny how life works. No matter how much distress your world is in, everything else moves without any hesitation. "Look, Daniel," she started again, breaking the silence. "When you were supposed to be temporary, I didn't tell you about Rob because I felt that it didn't matter. The plan was to get together, have a little stress reliever, and then go our separate ways with fond memories. Deep down, I always thought that my marriage would get back on track eventually. I figured we were in a win-win situation. I get a mental break from a distant marriage, and you get free. You touched me, kissed me, loved me. It was beautiful. You made me feel beautiful. I should have stopped it after that time. You were trouble for me, but I didn't. After a while, I started to feel more drawn to you. When that happened, it became harder to tell you. Then the New Year Gala happened."

"Yeah, the New Year Gala," I said, a growl as I had an onrush of memories surrounding that night. "To find out that the woman I was falling in love with was actually married to someone else was a gut punch to the infinite." She shrugged her shoulders. "You say that Rob and I looked so in love that night. That's the way we looked to everyone. Everyone thought that we had the perfect marriage. We were good at that, pretending like everything was all good. But you chose him in the end, so it couldn't have been all fake." She gave a sort of nostalgic smile before she spoke next. "Something happened between us. I couldn't place my finger on exactly when or what it was, but something snapped. Maybe it was on his end, or maybe I was just putting out a different vibe. I don't know. All I know is we just started clicking again. It was like we'd been in this dense fog for so long that we'd forgotten about the sunlight. Then suddenly, everything cleared away, and we finally saw each other."

I huffed and shook my head, then I smiled bitterly and said, "You just had that pesky fling on the side that you had to get rid of." She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "You may have started that way, but you became so much more. You can be angry at me for a lot of things. Lord knows you have options to choose from, but I can't let you think that I came to the decision to let you go easily. It was one of the hardest things that I ever had to do." I snatched my hand away from her. Who cares how hard it was for her to break my heart? It doesn't unbreak it. In fact, it came off as pretty selfish. Was she now the victim?

"What about our son?" I said, switching tracks. I was done listening to how much she didn't want to hurt me. It was time to move on to another subject that plagued me. "Bobby. What about him? Does he know about me?"

Once again, her eyes were full of tears. "No, he's only six. Way too young to process that. Luckily, he was young enough to not fully understand what was happening between his father and I. All he knows is that Daddy doesn't live with us anymore, but he still gets to spend a lot of time with him. He gets double presence at Christmas and on birthdays, and his dad comes over and takes him out for ice cream. If I do tell him about you, I'll be many years later." She wiped her eyes, then she thought of something. She looked at me through narrowed slits and asked, "Why do you ask about him?"

"Just curious, I guess. You know, I've always wanted a son. I told you that. Now here I have one, and I haven't been there for any part of his life. It's just hard for me, that's all." She continued to eye me suspiciously. "You're not planning on making a mess about Bobby, are you? If you are, don't," she said with a voice that was both a warning and a threat.

"Look, Jess, I'm not trying to mess things up for you. I'm really not. But you have to understand what I'm going through. I have a son that knows nothing of me. You forget that I wanted to take you away and make a life for you. When you told me that you were pregnant and that it was probably mine, I dreamed of a future with you and Bobby in it. You snatched that dream away from me."

She stared at me incredulously, and then her face turned angry. "What? You're going through? I have to understand what you're going through? You've been gone 3 years without even picking up the phone to see if Bobby was okay. I haven't seen one child support check from you, and you haven't even attempted to get started doing that. So don't you dare sit there and try to lay claim to him like you've been cheated. The reason why I didn't was because I was your dark little secret for 4 years. I couldn't be there for my son because if I was, you would have had to tell your husband who his real father was."

"Okay, I get that. What's your excuse for the last 3 years?" she challenged me. "After you blew up my life and told Rob everything, why didn't you try to be there for your son then?"

"I had to get away from you. If I stayed, I would have done something crazy. I left for all of our safety." She sat back in her chair and glared, stared angrily at me. "So you left your son behind, the son that you've always wanted, because you couldn't control yourself around the mother? Don't you turn this around on me. You broke my heart." She leaned forward and shot me a defiant stare. "I'm not turning anything around on you, Daniel. I am making a point. Yes, I broke your heart. I am a terrible person to be in a relationship with, but you know whose heart got broken worse? Robert's. I broke his worse. In fact, but guess what? He stayed around for Bobby. He may not have wanted to be married to me anymore, but he loved his son enough to figure out a way to be in his life. He is Bobby's father and has been for all 8 years. He is the one on the birth certificate. He's been the one looking after him for the last 3 years, even though he knows that Bobby isn't biologically his. He picks Bobby up from the babysitters when I can't, and he has him every other weekend at his house. He even makes sure that I have all of Bobby's favorite foods in the house when I don't have the money to do so. Would you do that?"

My only answer was silence. It didn't matter anyway. She wasn't expecting anything profound as a reply. She continued, "Robert's earned the right to be Bobby's father, not you. I'm not looking to mess that up for either of them. I've already done enough. So I'm sorry that you feel like you got the short end of that stick, but it is what it is. I'm looking out for what's best for Bobby, and you aren't it." As much as I wanted to deny it, she was 100% right. I felt a stab of jealous pain at the statement that her ex-husband was a better father than I was, but I couldn't dispute the fact. I didn't have much room in my life for a kid, at least not one birthed under these conditions. I wasn't the best option for Bobby because, in the end, I wouldn't be able to be there for him like the man who raised him was. I wouldn't be a constant presence in his life. I'd made a life in another city. I did want a family, but I wanted it all. I wanted the wife to go along with the children. Selfish, maybe, but not as selfish as it would have been to destroy what Bobby had in Ethan Spencer because I had some technical claim on his parentage. He had a father right here who honorably stepped up to the plate. He chose Bobby, even with all the unpleasantness surrounding him.

"You're right," I said as I nodded in acquiescence. She visibly relaxed and took a deep breath, like she'd been holding it for a minute. "I only have one last question. If you had to do it all over again, would you have done things differently? Would you have chosen me?"

She thought about it for a minute and then she looked at me with a strange look. I couldn't tell what it was, but it seemed like she was trying to figure out the best way to say what she wanted to say. "Yes, I would have done things differently, but not like you think." She paused and gave me that look again. This time, I deciphered the meaning of it. She was trying not to hurt my feelings. "If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't have gotten involved with you in the first place. I fell in love with you, and that stopped me from working on my marriage. As much as I loved you, I always loved him more. I didn't realize that until it was too late because I wasn't honest with you or myself. I had the love of two great men, and I lost them both because I didn't listen to my heart from the beginning."

Even though I was over the pain of the past, it still hurt to hear that our time together was a mistake in her mind. I agreed with her, but it still felt like another rejection. However, it was exactly what I needed to hear. I also believe that was what she needed to tell me. She had to say those words aloud to give them life. They had probably rattled around in her head since her husband received the letter. Saying them aloud and hearing them being said gave a sense of closure between us. We could both, both closed the book on that chapter of our lives and put it away permanently.

Our lunch was over not long after that. There was nothing left to say. As we left the restaurant, we said our goodbyes. We even gave each other one last hug goodbye. Then she took a left as I took a right. Each step that we took brought us farther and farther apart as we exited each other's lives for the final time. Neither of us turned to look back at the retreating form of the other person.

Thanks for watching this intense story of love and betrayal. What would you do if you uncovered such a shocking truth? Share your thoughts below and don't forget to like, subscribe, and stay tuned for more gripping tales. See you next time.