Chapter 3 The Door That Shouldn’t Have Opened

The next time came sooner than I wanted to admit. A few days later, on another ordinary Thursday, the pull returned stronger than before. Mark had left for work with his usual kiss on my forehead and a promise to pick up groceries on the way home. Lily was safely at daycare, her laughter still echoing in my ears as I drove away. The house waited for me, quiet and tempting, like it knew exactly what I needed.

Victor texted me right after I got back. Short and direct. “Today?”

My fingers hovered over the phone. I should say no. I should end this before it destroys everything. But my body remembered the heat from last time, the way he made me forget the emptiness. I typed back yes before I could talk myself out of it.

I prepared the same way. Black lace again, the one he liked. Vanilla candle lit on the nightstand. Sheets pulled tight. My hands shook a little as I slipped into the lingerie, staring at myself in the mirror. The woman looking back seemed bolder, hungrier. But the guilt gnawed at the edges, whispering that this could not go on.

He knocked at the usual time. I opened the door and Victor stepped in, his presence filling the entryway. He did not say much. He never did at first. His eyes drank me in, dark and intense, and then he was on me. We barely made it to the stairs this time. His mouth crushed mine, hands already sliding under the lace, rough and sure.

We made it to the bedroom in a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. Victor pushed me onto the bed, his shirt coming off fast. The small bag of white powder came out next. We did the lines together, the rush hitting me like fire in my blood. Everything sharpened. Colors brighter. His touch electric on my skin.

“You look like you need this bad,” he murmured, climbing over me.

“I do,” I whispered back, pulling him down.

He took me hard and fast, no slow buildup. His body moved with that raw power that always left me breathless. I cried out as he entered me, legs wrapping around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. The cocaine made every thrust feel deeper, every moan louder. We flipped positions, me on top riding him with desperate energy, then him behind me, one hand in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.

The pleasure built fast, crashing over me in waves. I came shaking, his name on my lips like a prayer and a curse. Victor followed soon after, groaning low as he finished inside me. We collapsed together, sweaty and spent, the room thick with the scent of sex and vanilla.

For a while we just breathed. He traced patterns on my bare thigh, almost lazy now.

“Can’t get enough of you, Diane,” he said with that smirk.

I smiled, but the words twisted something inside me. This had to be the last time. Really. Mark and Lily deserved better. I opened my mouth to tell him, but then his hand moved between my legs again, teasing, and I lost myself once more.

We went slower the second round, but no less intense. His mouth explored every inch of me, tongue and teeth drawing out sounds I did not know I could make. I returned the favor, taking him in my mouth until he pulled me up and took me again from behind. The bed creaked under us. My mind floated in the high, guilt pushed far away for those precious minutes.

Then I heard it.

A soft creak.

The bedroom door opened slowly.

My eyes flew wide open in pure horror. Mark stood there in the doorway, still wearing his work shirt and tie. His face looked completely calm. Too calm. He did not look surprised. He did not look angry. He just stood there watching us.

Time stopped.

Victor froze on top of me. His body went completely stiff. I could not breathe. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt. Cold terror rushed through every part of me.

Oh God. No. This cannot be happening. Please wake up. Please let this be a nightmare.

Mark looked at us for what felt like forever. His eyes moved slowly from my naked body, flushed and sweaty, to Victor still inside me. Then his gaze returned to my face. He did not shout. He did not move. He simply stood there with that unreadable expression.

Victor pulled out of me quickly. He scrambled off the bed in panic and grabbed his clothes from the floor. His hands shook badly as he tried to dress himself.

“I should go,” Victor muttered, keeping his eyes down. He would not look at me. He squeezed past Mark without another word and hurried down the stairs. His footsteps were loud and fast. Moments later the front door slammed shut behind him, leaving the house in heavy silence.

Now it was just me and Mark.

I quickly pulled the sheet up to cover my breasts. My whole body trembled uncontrollably. Tears burned in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I waited for the explosion. For screaming. For him to call me a whore or a terrible wife. For him to throw things or storm out. Anything but this silence.

But none of that happened.

Mark walked slowly into the bedroom and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. He sat down on the edge of the bed right beside me. So close that I could smell his familiar cologne mixed with the scent of my sex still hanging in the air.

He reached out and gently pulled me into his arms. He held me against his chest like I was something precious and fragile.

“It is okay,” he whispered softly into my hair. “I am not mad at you, Diane. I will just try harder to be the man you need.”

I could not speak. My throat felt tight and closed. I shook violently against him as more tears ran down my face and soaked into his shirt.

Why is he not yelling? Why is he holding me like this? This feels so much worse than any anger could ever be.

He stroked my hair slowly, over and over, in a steady rhythm. His touch was gentle and patient, like he was comforting a scared child who had a bad dream.

“We will be fine,” he said quietly. “You do not need to explain anything right now. I forgive you completely.”

His voice sounded so calm and full of love. But something about the way he said it sent a deep chill down my spine. The guilt crushed me from the inside out. I had betrayed him in our own bed, with another man inside me. And here he was, hugging me and offering forgiveness without raising his voice even once.

“I am so sorry,” I finally managed to whisper. My voice cracked and broke. “Mark, I never wanted you to see that. I am a horrible person.”

Mark shook his head gently. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Do not apologize. This is my fault too. I have not been giving you what you need for a long time. But things will change now. I promise you that.”

He kept holding me for a long time. His hands moved gently up and down my bare back. The same hands that had touched me with love for years now felt somehow different. Almost too careful. Too perfect.

I stayed silent in his arms, my mind racing with fear and confusion. My body still buzzed from the drugs and sex, but now it all felt sickening. The perfect mask I had worn for so long had been ripped away in the worst possible way. And instead of the explosion I deserved, I received this quiet, unnerving forgiveness.

Deep down, a small voice inside me whispered that something was very wrong. But I was too shocked and ashamed to listen to it fully.

For now, I just let him hold me while my tears kept falling.