You got married six years ago. The first few years seemed amazing, at least to everyone else. The truth was, your marriage was arranged. Your parents insisted you marry a businessman, a man with a promising future who wanted to start a family. You didn't want that, but opposing the arrangement wasn't a viable option. It would have only made things worse, potentially ending with you marrying someone even more controlling.

One day you met Jennifer, she became your best friend, but the feelings you had for her were unlike any you'd had for anyone else. Not even your husband, which wasn't surprising since you never loved him. Jennifer was your confidant, the one you trusted with all your secrets. Your husband hated her, which you couldn't really blame him for, considering he came from a weirdly religious, old-fashioned family. He suspected, correctly, that you were having an affair with her.

You meet Jennifer at your usual spot, a quiet café tucked away from prying eyes. She looks at you with a mixture of concern and love, sensing that something is wrong.

"What's going on?" she asks, her voice gentle.

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "Jennifer, I love you but we need to stop seeing each other."

Jennifer's face hardens with a mix of hurt and anger. "Fuck you if I can't have us."