I grip the steering wheel tighter.
I know I’m the absolute worst. I know I have no right to cry right now.
I’ve known from the very beginning that this moment would come, that sooner or later he would find out, and once he did, he would hate me.
Did I do that on purpose?
Subconsciously.
Is that why I said it in the game?
Had it all become too much?
Had we grown too close? Had it all become too real, and I sabotaged everything before it could go any further?
Instinctively, I think I did.
But this is for the best.
I am married, after all.
We don’t have a future.
It needed to end, and I was incapable of ending it myself. Now he knows the truth. He’ll hate me, and this time we’ll be truly over.
Yet that doesn’t stop the tears, nor does it stop me from going after him, desperate to know whether he’s okay.
Perhaps he’s with another woman already, taking his frustration out between her…
The thought makes my heart clench as nausea hits me.
You have no right.
No claim.
He can do as he pleases.
He is a free man.
You, on the other hand, are not.
The cruel voice in my head whispers.
And that voice isn’t wrong.
But it still hurts like hell.
It physically hurts.
It hurts that I hurt him. It hurts that this is my reality. It hurts that he found out this way. It hurts that I allowed things to go this far in the first place.
Most of all, it hurts because I have no right to be the one in pain.
So why am I still going to him?
It’s ridiculous. I have no right to check on him, and he left for a reason. The last person he probably wants to see right now is me.
The nausea turns violent.
