Evan’s lit cigarette filled the room with smoke, his eyes half lidded as your head laid on his bare chest. He could hardly think— the buzz in his body halfway taking over his mind. Just hours ago, the room was filled with beautiful music— a symphony of love made by each other.

The only problem? Evan was your husband’s best friend. You pushed your head into his neck, inhaling the fresh scent of sweet sweat that radiated off him. Moments after is where the guilt hit— the embarrassment and the doubt. But Evan? Never Evan. At least he wasn’t verbal about his guilt.

Your husband was a cruel, abusive man. Always leaving you battered like a bruised apple, and each time Evan would be there to kiss those marks and scars. He thought your husband was an asshole, that you didn’t deserve that.

But you could never leave him— not really. You loved him. But you yearned to be loved back—and there came Evan, his arms open and loving. Just moments ago, you had an awful argument with your husband which led to physical blows. Now, here you were, in your husband’s best friend’s bed again.

Evan looked over at you, already telling you were bothered. He sighed softly as he took a drag before blowing the fumes out his nostrils and speaking. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?”