The man I had an affair with was the marriage counselor my husband paid a fortune to bring us together-15
Supermarket Stalemate
Weekend crowds jammed the supermarket. Choosing discounted tomatoes, I looked up. David stood opposite the chilled display. His cart held lonely instant pasta packs. He saw me. Eyes locked across the glass. He’d thinned. Hollowed cheeks. Unkempt hair. Gaunt. Air froze. Refrigeration hissed. "…Sophie." He broke first, voice grating. "Hmm." I acknowledged. My gaze flicked to his instant meals.
He’d scorned them before. "You… okay?" His eyes held wary probing. "Fine." I dropped a tomato into my cart. "You?" "Same." A grimace passed for a smile. Silence reclaimed. The hiss amplified. The chasm between us gaped. "Need… check that aisle." He gestured vaguely. "Okay." He pushed his cart away, haste in his step. Vanishing into the throng. Like a drop in the ocean. I stared at the plump red tomatoes in my cart. Fingertips cold. Those barren words had drained me. Familiar strangers exhaust deeper than true unknowns.
Release on the Line
Past midnight. Emma’s face glowed on my phone screen. Hesitation lingered. I pressed call. "Sophie?" Sleep softened her voice. Hearing her unlocked the dam. Grief choked my throat. "Emma…" My name escaped. Tears drowned speech. Uncontrolled! I sobbed into the phone. Words tumbled incoherent.
"He lied... Emma! Paid someone to test me... that counselor... fake!... the file... loyalty rating... What was I?!" I spilled the ugly shards. No filter. Just wept. Just confessed. A lost child finding home. Emma listened silently. Soft gasps of pain. Muffled curses: "David’s insane! Moron!... That bastard counselor! Rot in hell!" Her fury ignited my frozen rage. Offered strange warmth. How long I cried? Voice vanished. Only hiccups remained. "Better now?" Emma softened. "Sophie, I’m here. Leaving was right! That garbage man? Unworthy! Seeing truth is victory!..." She ranted. Cursed David. Cursed Lucas. Consoled me. Her voice through the phone held tangible warmth.
NEXT >>
Weekend crowds jammed the supermarket. Choosing discounted tomatoes, I looked up. David stood opposite the chilled display. His cart held lonely instant pasta packs. He saw me. Eyes locked across the glass. He’d thinned. Hollowed cheeks. Unkempt hair. Gaunt. Air froze. Refrigeration hissed. "…Sophie." He broke first, voice grating. "Hmm." I acknowledged. My gaze flicked to his instant meals.
He’d scorned them before. "You… okay?" His eyes held wary probing. "Fine." I dropped a tomato into my cart. "You?" "Same." A grimace passed for a smile. Silence reclaimed. The hiss amplified. The chasm between us gaped. "Need… check that aisle." He gestured vaguely. "Okay." He pushed his cart away, haste in his step. Vanishing into the throng. Like a drop in the ocean. I stared at the plump red tomatoes in my cart. Fingertips cold. Those barren words had drained me. Familiar strangers exhaust deeper than true unknowns.
Release on the Line
Past midnight. Emma’s face glowed on my phone screen. Hesitation lingered. I pressed call. "Sophie?" Sleep softened her voice. Hearing her unlocked the dam. Grief choked my throat. "Emma…" My name escaped. Tears drowned speech. Uncontrolled! I sobbed into the phone. Words tumbled incoherent.
"He lied... Emma! Paid someone to test me... that counselor... fake!... the file... loyalty rating... What was I?!" I spilled the ugly shards. No filter. Just wept. Just confessed. A lost child finding home. Emma listened silently. Soft gasps of pain. Muffled curses: "David’s insane! Moron!... That bastard counselor! Rot in hell!" Her fury ignited my frozen rage. Offered strange warmth. How long I cried? Voice vanished. Only hiccups remained. "Better now?" Emma softened. "Sophie, I’m here. Leaving was right! That garbage man? Unworthy! Seeing truth is victory!..." She ranted. Cursed David. Cursed Lucas. Consoled me. Her voice through the phone held tangible warmth.
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