The first lie!

Soon, it was the weekend my husband and I went visiting one of his distant family, Kate.

As soon as we pulled out at the driveway, his Aunt looked at me with contempt. Even when I greeted her, she didn’t regard my greetings. She faced my husband and said, “When will your wife give you a child? It’s been long since you two got married.”

My husband looked at Aunt Kate with anger.

“Aunt Kate, I came here today because of the respect I have for you. This is my marriage and my affairs have nothing to do with you. I married her because I loved her and, besides, we don’t want kids.”

Kate gulped down her saliva and smiled.

“Old me, you two come in.”

“No, Aunt Kate, you have made my wife unhappy and I can not allow her to stay in a place where she’s not welcome. Therefore, we will be taking our leave.”

With that being said, my husband ordered me to get back in the car and, without wasting time, he drove out of her neighborhood and never returned. And I didn’t say a thing about it to him.

******

It was on Tuesday morning and the air smelled like rain, and the sky had that heavy, gray stillness that made everything feel slower. My husband, David, was getting ready to leave for work, rushing through the hallway, tying his tie as he called out for his keys. I was in the kitchen packing his lunch when my phone buzzed on the counter.

‘Asher.’

Just his name flashing on the screen was enough to send a flutter through my chest. I stared at it for too long before my thumb slid across the phone, silencing the call. I told myself it wasn’t the right time… not with David here.

“Who was that?” David’s voice came from behind me, casually distracting me from the thought of that man.

I didn’t even look up. “Oh, just one of the volunteers,” I said.

The words came out easily; it was too easy to be suspected.

David nodded, kissed my cheek, and left with his usual warmth. I stood there, frozen; it felt like something inside me had moved, like I had crossed an invisible line I couldn’t step back over. The oven brought me back to my senses and I rushed to turn it off. I looked at my husband through the window, watching him drive away.

Later that day, I met Asher at the office. The moment I saw him, all the guilt that had knotted in my chest melted away into a feeling far more dangerous; desire! He smiled that quiet, knowing smile that made me feel like he could read every thought in my head.

“You ignored my call,” he said softly, leaning against the edge of my desk.

“I was with David,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Ah,” he said, his eyes darkening with amusement. “And what did you tell him?”

I hesitated, feeling my heart pick up pace. “I told him it was just a volunteer.”

Asher chuckled; slowly, and filled with the feeling that made my stomach twist. “That’s not entirely a lie,” he said, stepping closer. “I am a volunteer.”

He reached out and brushed a piece of lint off my sleeve, his fingers lingering just a second too long. I should have stepped away, but I didn’t. I just stood there, trapped somewhere between wanting to run and wanting to melt.

“I didn’t mean to…” I started, but he cut me off gently.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Poppy.” His voice softened. “But you should be careful. Lies have a way of growing legs.”

That line stuck with me for days.

Every time I looked at David, I saw the truth I hadn’t told him. It was small, yes, but it grew heavier with every passing moment. He trusted me completely, and that trust made the guilt worse.

That weekend, Asher called again …. And again, I let it go to voicemail. But on Sunday night, when David had fallen asleep beside me, I finally listened.

“Missed you at the office,” Asher’s voice said through the speaker, smooth and calm. “There’s something about your absence that makes this place dull.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I deleted the message quickly, terrified David would wake up. Then I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the sound of Asher’s voice echoing in my head.

*****

The next Tuesday at work, he was waiting for me.

“I thought maybe you’d gone into hiding,” he teased, handing me a stack of reports.

“Just busy,” I said, too quickly.

He studied me… really studied me, and then smiled faintly. “You’re getting good at this.”

“At what?”

“At pretending.”

The words stung. Maybe because they were true. I was pretending everything was fine, that I could keep both worlds separate.

Later that afternoon, I had to organize the files in the storage room, and he volunteered to help. It was cramped, hot, and filled with boxes stacked to the ceiling. I could feel him behind me, close enough that his breath brushed the back of my neck. My skin tingled, and I cursed myself for how much I liked it.

“Careful,” he murmured as I reached for a high shelf. His hand steadied my waist and I froze.

That one touch sent a pulse through me; those sharp, real, and terrifying feelings arose within me again. I turned to face him, and for a moment, the space between us disappeared. His gaze dropped to my lips.

“Asher…” I whispered.

He didn’t move and neither did I.

“I shouldn’t,” I added quickly, stepping back.

“Then don’t,” he said simply, his tone unreadable. “No one’s asking you to.”

But his eyes said otherwise. They dared me. They made me want to.

That night, I told another lie.

David asked how work was, and I said it was quiet. I told him I barely saw Asher. I spent most of the day sorting files alone. Then I leaned against him on the couch and pretended to watch the movie he’d picked, while my mind replayed the heat of Asher’s hand on my waist.

I hated how alive I felt thinking about him.

And yet, the more I tried to push it away, the more I found myself waiting for Tuesdays and Thursdays… the days I knew I’d see him.

A week later, Asher stopped by my desk near closing. Everyone else had left. The light from the hallway spilled in faintly, catching the faint silver in his beard.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said softly.

“I’ve been busy,” I replied.

“With lying, right?”

My breath caught, and my chest tightened. “Excuse me?”

He gave me that half-smile again. Yeah, the kind that seemed to peel back every layer I tried to hide behind. “You lied again, didn’t you?”

I looked away, flustered. “That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not,” he said, walking closer. “But you’re not the type to lie easily. And yet, you’re doing it for me.”

I shook my head, but he wasn’t wrong. Every denial and excuse all led back to him.

He lowered his voice. “Doesn’t that tell you something? Poppy.”

“It tells me I should stop before I ruin everything.”

“And do you want to stop? Tell me Poppy, can you stop?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Because, I should have said yes, I should have ended it there. But I didn’t. I just looked at him, and he looked at me like he already knew the answer.

When I finally left that night, the guilt was so heavy I could hardly breathe. But under it, somewhere deeper, there was a dangerous warmth … the thrill of the forbidden feeling that had just beginning to take shape and that was the night I realized my first lie wasn’t just a slip of the tongue.

It was the beginning of a story I didn’t know how to stop telling.

{My Affairs with a married man and me, a married woman}