“Call her back. Tell her I left or died. I don’t care. I can’t talk to her right now.”
His expression softened. “What’s going on, Art? You came over here and swung at me. What’s your deal?”
Reluctantly, I told him about the day’s events: the sick feeling after a bad meal, deciding to work from home, and the unexpected discovery that shattered my world. I didn’t expect Paige to be home, and the strange car outside didn’t raise alarms. I was too focused on reaching the bathroom, unaware that my life was about to change forever.
As I finished recounting the story, Lance grew serious.
“That witch!” he yelled. “Screw her!”
I chuckled darkly. “Funny, that’s what that guy was doing.”
Ignoring my comment, Lance started pacing. “Who is this guy? Do we know him?” He paused, looking worried. “Tell me it’s not Brian.”
“No, not Brian, but the guy looked familiar.”
A knock at the door interrupted us. It was Paige.
“He left,” Lance said coldly, cutting off her protests.
When he returned, I gave him a grateful smile, and we spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. Eventually, I knew I had to face Paige. Staying away was just delaying the inevitable. When I got home, everything looked normal, almost as if it had all been a bad dream, but it wasn’t.
Inside, Paige tried to talk.
“We should talk,” she said.
I sighed, staying silent. She apologized, but it felt hollow, more about how I found out than the betrayal itself. I sarcastically threw her words back at her, mocking her empty apology. We argued about everything but the core issue, dodging the real pain.
Eventually, I asked, “How long has it been since we made love?”
She hesitated. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s like you were just doing me a favor,” I said. “But that guy, he gets enthusiasm.”
She didn’t answer, and I knew I was just trying to provoke her. But I wanted her to feel something, anything close to what I felt. But she couldn’t, because I hadn’t cheated. I had kept my vows.
After a tense silence, I finally asked, “Do you still love me, Paige?”
Her hesitation was telling.
“Yes, but not in the same way. Not anymore.”
“Not in that way,” I repeated, realizing she didn’t love me anymore.