CHAPTER 13: CHAPTER 13: I CAN’T KEEP PRETENDING HE DOESN’T SEE ME

There are mirrors all over this house.

Not the fancy kind. Not ornate or dramatic.

Just plain ones. Bathroom. Hallway. Closet doors.

And every time I catch my reflection, I wonder who I’ve become.

Because I used to know. I used to be someone predictable.

Practical. Steady. Careful.

Now?

Now I look like a woman on the verge of doing something irreversible.

And maybe the worst part is that I don’t hate it.

9:45 AM — The Hoodie Incident

I should’ve hidden it.

I meant to.

Aaron’s hoodie had been lying on the chair in my room for days — soft, worn, comforting. It smelled like him. I wore it at night, curled under it when I read. Like a teenager nursing a crush.

Because that’s what I am, apparently.

A thirty-year-old teenage girl with no sense of boundaries.

When Mark — Aaron’s dad, my husband — found it in the laundry, I lied.

I said I found it in the hall.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.

And when he walked away, I had to sit on the floor just to breathe again.

This is how it starts, isn’t it?

One small lie. Then another. Then another.

Until suddenly the floor is lava and everyone’s on fire and you don’t remember where the truth even lives.

11:00 AM — The Kitchen

I saw Aaron and nearly turned back.

But I didn’t.

I walked in. He looked tired — the kind of tired that sleeps behind your eyes. That follows you from dreams into daylight.

I could tell he didn’t sleep.

Because I didn’t either.

And when our hands brushed, I didn’t flinch.

I leaned in. Teased him. Asked about his dreams.

He froze.

And that’s when I knew.

He dreamed about me again.

He wouldn’t say it, but I could read it in the color rushing to his face, the silence pulling his shoulders in.

He wanted me.

And I wanted him wanting me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

12:30 PM — The Talk That Didn’t Happen

I tried to keep it together.

I folded laundry. I drank water. I told myself I was fine.

Then I stood outside his bedroom door for five full minutes like a coward, trying to figure out what I was even doing.

I knocked anyway.

His voice was soft when he let me in.

We didn’t say much. Just... looked at each other. Breathed in the guilt and heat sitting between us.

And I realized something awful.

I didn’t want to fix it.

I wanted to give in.

Even if it broke me.

Even if it broke him.

Even if it broke Mark.

That terrified me more than anything.

Flashback: Two Months Ago

Mark and I got married at a courthouse with cheap fake flowers and a clerk who forgot our names twice.

It was simple. Fast. Almost transactional.

He was good to me in his own way. Provided stability. A house. Security. A family.

But there were no fireworks.

No sleepless nights.

No forehead brushes that felt like confessions.

Then Aaron came home.

And suddenly everything I thought was quiet... got loud.

4:00 PM — In the Garden

I went outside to breathe.

Aaron followed.

We stood by the overgrown roses in silence.

Then he said, "I can’t stop thinking about you."

I closed my eyes.

"I know," I whispered.

He stepped closer. "I try to hate you for it."

I turned. "Me too."

"But it’s not working."

"No," I said. "It’s not."

We didn’t kiss.

But we did something worse.

We didn’t leave.

We just stood there. Breathing. Feeling. Letting it live between us without killing it.

And that felt like its own kind of betrayal.

📘 End of Chapter 13

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