My head hurt from all the crying, and my stomach ached from the laughter. It was such a strange contrast—pain and joy swirling together like they didn't know where one ended and the other began. But in that confusing, ridiculous moment, I realized something. Something I had been trying to suppress. Things I was deliberately ignoring. Desires I kept justifying under the guise of innocence.
I walked to the mirror and stood still, staring at the woman looking back at me. My face was a mess. My eyes were puffy, red around the edges. My cheeks were marked with faint lines from the dried tears, looking like a ghost. I raised a hand and touched my own cheek, feeling the swollen skin beneath my fingertips.
I let out a soft, broken laugh.
Pathetic.
That's what I looked like. That's what I felt like. Never in my life did I imagine I would end up like this—caught in such an emotional mess, torn between guilt and desire, love and betrayal.
How did I let it get this far?
Watching my own ruined face in the mirror. Thinking about the man who just made me laugh so hard my stomach cramped. The man who was continuously putting efforts with a warm smile, trying his best to make me feel special and appreciated.
How did I even think of hurting him?
I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath.
No more lies. No more pretending that this is normal or okay. I know the things I've done. I know what I had been walking toward. And I know I'm still dangerously close.
But I also know what I want now.
And it's not the thrill. It's not the secrecy. It's not the temptation pulling me back to that other house.
I want him.
I want us.
I want to be worthy of the love he gives me so freely.
I opened my eyes again, still staring at myself. The same ruined face. But this time, I didn't look away.
And the first step towards it would be keeping myself away from that house—the house that kept pulling me further down a path I should have never walked. Even though today was supposed to be the last day I helped him, according to the promise I made… I have no other option but to break this promise that I made out of sympathy and foolishness.
Because keeping this promise would come at the expense of something far more precious. Something irreplaceable.
My husband.
If I go to that house today, I already know... what's awaiting me there.
Him.
The moment the thought surfaced, I felt a familiar throb between my legs. My pussy tingled, and I swallowed hard, ashamed of the reaction my body still had to him.
And I also knew, it would be the end of me. So, while my brain is still functioning properly to understand the gravity of the situation. I better stop. I better put an end to it. I dont want to lose whatever little shame I had left. I wouldn't be able to face him. Not after everything he's done for me. Not after the way he held me this morning, warm and full of love. Not after how he made me feel cherished and loved.
I dont want to walk into a place that dragged me further away from the man who still saw the best in me. I can't keep walking toward the fire and pretending I won't get burned.
And I couldn't do that. Not anymore.
I walked outside, drying my hair with a towel, and he looked up at me with a gentle expression.
"Today's the last day, right? Helping the old man?"
Hearing those words from his mouth hit me sharp. So casually spoken, so innocent. He was still trusting me. All these days, he'd believed in me without question. Without doubt.
I tried to keep my tone casual as I replied, "Hmm… I don't think I have to help out anymore."
His face lit up instantly with a bright, boyish smile. "Really??"
I gave a faint nod, keeping my voice low. "He said he's okay now. Doesn't need help anymore."
"To be honest," he said, chuckling, "I'm actually pretty surprised and impressed. You managed to stick with it all this time. Honestly, I thought you'd regret it after two days, but not a single complaint from you."
I offered a half-smile, trying not to let anything show. "Well… even I'm surprised by a lot of things about myself lately."
There was a pause. Something tight pressed against my chest. I didn't let it stay. I pushed a smile back onto my face and quickly changed the subject.
"Anyway! It's a brilliant day, don't you think? How about we go watch a movie today?"
He replied with a happy smile, with the thought of spending the evening together. He went back to finish his work, clearly trying to get everything done as quickly as possible.
By early afternoon, I had completed all the chores. The house was quiet. I collapsed onto the sofa, slightly exhausted. I needed this silence. This peace. A moment to breathe.
I leaned back, my head sinking into the cushion, eyes shut, face turned toward the ceiling. The emptiness around me should've been comforting. But it wasn't.
Because inside me, there was noise.
His voice. Not my husband's.
"You'll be back. You'll be begging next time."
Stop it, I hissed inside my head. Shut up. Shut up.
But memory is cruel. It doesn't listen. It kept echoing like a cursed chant again and again.
And like a sickness, it spread through me—my mind dragging me back to that moment. That humiliating moment.
His cock. Slapping my ass with an authority.
His rough fingers grabbing my ass so hard they'd left marks. I could still feel them. I could still hear his breathless laugh, his crude words growled into my ear.
"This cock belongs right here."
My breath hitched.
I raised both hands and covered my face, pressing my palms tight against my cheeks. As if I could hide from myself. As if shame could suffocate arousal.
But it didn't. It never did.
My face burned.
And between my legs... that horrible, aching tingle. That warmth. The wetness. The slow, traitorous throb of my pussy remembering the way his cock rubbed over my ass. The way he touched me like I wasn't even a person, just a hole meant to be used.
I clenched my thighs together. Too late.
The shame bloomed hot across my chest, but it was no match for what pulsed lower.
No. Please...
But the voice returned—smoother this time, filthier. It wasn't his voice anymore. It was mine. A twisted, corrupted version of myself, whispering filth right into my ear.
You loved it.
Don't lie. You were dripping when he bent you over, or should I say... you bent yourself over knowingly.
You were moaning when he rubbed that cock against your pussy. Up and down, again and again. He kept rubbing and you kept moaning like a whore.
You want to feel it again, don't you?
You want to spread your legs and let him fuck your married cunt like it belongs to him. You want to bounce on that old cock.
Just admit it.
I whimpered under my breath.
My fingers dug into my face, trying to silence the moan building in my throat. But my pussy... it clenched again. Wet, needy and shameless.
You're going to go back. You'll crawl if you have to. Beg if he makes you. Isn't that what you want?
No. No.
I dont. His smile this morning. His laughter. The way he held me like I mattered.
Not after that.
Not after how he kissed my forehead like I was something to treasure.
Not after how he made me feel loved when I was rotting inside.
Somebody… please… help me escape from this misery. From this torture.
Just then... the doorbell rang.
The doorbell rang snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.
My eyes shot open.
Was it him?
Did he come to get me? Was he here to make me fulfill the promise I had decided to break?
My heart started pounding. My breath caught halfway up my throat.
No... he wouldn't. Would he?
I sat up slowly, legs trembling slightly as I stood. Heat pulsing between my thighs again, almost as if my body had recognized the possibility before my mind could catch up. My pussy tingled, subtly but unmistakably, and I hated the way it responded to just the thought of him.
Is he really going to take me now? While my husband is working? While he's looking forward to the time we are going to spend together.
Is he going to take me back to that house, just the two of us... to finish what was left undone?
I took one step toward the door. Then another. Each one slower than the last, my breathing getting heavier. I had already made my decision. I wasn't going back there. I had promised myself I'd resist this time.
I was not giving in to lust again.
This was just... me checking. I was just checking who came. That's it.
It's not like I was hoping it was him.
Not like I wanted him to be standing there.
Not like I wanted him to grab my wrist and lead me back to his house and shut the door behind us.
I wasn't hoping for any of that...
Not at all.