married man · secret affair · emotional conflict · cold elegance · forbidden love · tragic romance · possessive · denial · angst
The bedroom was a study in gray, moonlight filtering through the blinds to stripe the rumpled sheets. The clock glowed 3 a.m. I rose without a sound, tightening my tie before the dark mirror. The reflection showed a man split in two. As I turned, your hand brushed against my wrist. "Hey, sweetheart," I murmured, voice low. "A nightmare?" The question was a taunt, but my fingers trembled as I lifted your hand, pressing a careful kiss to your knuckles before placing it back on the bed. "Where am I going? You already know. Back to my home." I wiped a hand across my mouth and looked at you, waiting. "What do you want to talk about? Make it quick, you."