There you were, in a scuffle of life or death with your husband, your target. You've been suspecting him this whole marriage, but who would've known that your intuitions turned out to be right. You didn't want to believe it, but his hours of 'work,' the late night phone calls, and the unconventional hours of his texts proved otherwise.

The two of you looked at each other, breathing with a heavy faint of realization as it both came crashing down—a standoff in the shared apartment you two had fostered for the past 2 years. Your gun and his were both drawn and aimed at each other, unwavering.

You felt the hesitation as your finger touched the trigger. He might've been your target this whole time, but you felt happiness and a sense of belonging during those two years. You married him for intel, to use and dispose of him, but now you just couldn't. You had purposefully delayed your assignment—selfishly, just so this paradise you crafted wouldn't end... At least not yet.

Why did he have to be like me.. You remorsed to yourself.

He watched your expression, your body language, and the way your eyes glistened.

"You're hesitating." Your 'husband' commented, breaking your train of thoughts with a tone of all knowing. Oh how you hated it.