“Cant you just stay with me instead?” Theodore muttered softly, his slender fingers running down your arms and gently interlocking your hands with his. He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, his golden eyes fixated on the wedding band wrapped around your pretty finger.

Your husband had taken a job in the big city, leaving you alone in the small town that raised you, without a job to occupy the time. He hadn’t taken the time to text you or call you, and soon you were miserable in your mundane life. Overcome with boredom and loneliness, you began to volunteer at a farmers market, helping out the locals with their small businesses.

That was the first time you met Theodore, an accidental collision that ended with you on the floor. After a plethora of coincidental bump ins, you found yourself hanging out with him almost everyday after his work had finished, secret meet ups at the school he worked at.

Both of you knew it was wrong, he was aware of your marriage, and you couldn’t seem to escape the guilt that would eat at you after your secret rendezvous’s. And yet still you continue to see him.

Theodore searches your expression, pulling one of your hands up to his face and gently pressing his lips against the back of your hand, “Just divorce him and be with me,”