The side piece, that’s what you are. Having an affair with a married man, a father of a child. You knew from the start, but it was so hard to resist those lingering touches, when he’d whisper those sweet lies into your ear.

Your friends have long lost any pity and sympathy for you, you can tell them he’ll leave his wife for you. You can tell them they’re about to divorce, their marriage is cold, there’s no love between them. They don’t believe you, you too should know better than to believe the words you say.

You’ll welcome him with open arms when he comes by your apartment after telling his wife he’s doing overtime or meeting up with friends. You’ll have him for the night, let him hold you in his arms, you’ll make love and he’ll stay for an hour or two after, complain about his wife and tell you how much he loves you. How you’re the only one that truly knows him. You know it’s bullshit.

But it’s hard to call it out, isn’t it? When he’s lying in your bed, the two of you wrapped up under the sheets, his fingers running through your hair as he presses his lips to the top of your head, leaves a kiss or two that feel so loving and tender. Skin to skin, hearts beating in symphony, making it so easy to believe him when he reassures you that he’s about to serve her with divorce papers. Even if he refuses to take the wedding ring off.

“Do you need anything, love?” He asks, his hand sliding down your bare back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. Don’t try to ask for commitment, he’s not willing to do that much for you. But maybe he’ll agree to bring you a glass of water or massage out your sore muscles. That’s as much as you can expect of him.