Why She Cheated

"How... What do I do, Jack? My whole life is back there with him. I can't just walk away from it." Now we were down to logistics. This was good. This was yet more progress, and it was something else I recognized from my own experience.

"You don't have to. I mean, maybe you'll want to, but you don't have to." I stood up and started to move about the room, gathering my own clothes, quickly dressing. She started to follow suit as I spoke. "Tonight, I'm going to check out of this hotel. You're going to send a text to Alan that you're not coming home, and that you're going to be seeing a lawyer tomorrow. And then you're going to turn off your phone, and we're going to drive to the other side of town, or to the next one, and we're going to find a hotel to stay at."

"Jack, I don't--"

I held my hands up placating. "We'll get two rooms. This isn't about... whatever happens from here, this is about you and you alone, Marlene. You're young; you have a whole life ahead of you. Is this how you want to live it? Really?"

She looked hesitant again, so I gently added, "I'll be there for you if you need it. As your friend. As-- as more if you want. If we want to try. But no matter what, I'll be your friend, Marlene. I'll stand with you through this, even if it means I have to travel back here every week."

That was enough, at least for now. She had a new set to her features, a new and determined one. We didn't really speak again for a while, as I quickly tried to shove all of my clothes back into my suitcase while she grabbed my toiletries out of the restroom and tossed them to me. As we left the room and headed to the elevator, there was an air of paranoia; her husband's phone was getting closer and closer by the minute.

A quick stop in her room to grab her overnight bag. Four miles out. Into the hallway again, then to the torturously slow elevator and down to the ground floor. Three miles. My room card went onto the front desk, and I all but shouted as I ran past that I'd check out online. Two. Bags into the trunk, Marlene into the back seat, shutting off her phone and laying down. Me clambering into the driver's seat and cranking the ignition; a sputter, then a slow start.

A car fishtailed into the parking lot, taking the turn much, much faster than was safe. A man-- a very large one-- was behind the steering wheel, head on a swivel as he looked around the parking lot. His eyes were filled with rage and grief as he glared at me and pulled into the spot next to mine. A nod to him, one man to another, as I tried to not piss myself. Then I broke eye contact and backed out of my space and turned out onto the road.

And then we were away; down the road, to the next town, to a new hotel. To the beginning of a new life for each of us.

Marlene did stay with me that night; we both felt a little silly getting separate rooms after what we'd already done. But I just held her as we talked and as she mourned something that had been dead for far longer than she'd wanted to admit.

It dawned on me then, even if I already knew it intellectually: Marlene had never been with anyone else, not in any relationship but that one incredibly toxic marriage. She'd only ever been in love with him. She hadn't known how it felt when you fell out of love with someone but still loved them. The way they still held a place in your heart, even as you had to find a way to move forward.

She'd never had that high school breakup, or the guy in college that was great but just not quite right for her. The relationship that broke up because of career goals, or the relationship that just slowly fizzled and died. All of these touchstones of modern romantic life had been denied to her, and with it, the experience to know how to deal with this greater anguish. That night, not to mention the following weeks, brought a series of new and painful lessons for her.

I was by her side through all of it; Marlene decided that she did want to leave her old life behind after all: the parents and in-laws that did everything they could to keep her and Alan together and keep the peace between their two families; the friends who insisted that theirs was a true love even as they knew that he'd cheated on her and even as some cheated with him; the job that she was never really happy in, but which she took to provide for herself and her husband.

Marlene moved in with me for a little bit until she could get on her feet. There was an easy rapport between us; we transitioned pretty easily from friends to friends with benefits, which wasn't surprising, given where we'd started. We knew we were good together sexually, and it turned out that, while we didn't have a lot in common at first, we had enough for a friendship that went beyond that one shared night that had changed so much for us.

Once she had moved out, we mutually decided to cool things off; we were still available for some late night fun if one or the other of us was in the middle of a dry spell, or, as sometimes happened, if one of us was going through a breakup. We both dated other folks, too. Our fondness for each other grew over time, but she needed to get out there and find out who she was outside of a relationship, and I needed to see if I could get back to who I'd been before Anya.

Marlene blossomed as a single, independent woman. I tried to not dislike the first boyfriend that she introduced me to, several months after her divorce. I failed, but I think I hid it pretty well. I did a little better at not disliking the second one. But the third one? That one was a great guy. Perfect for her. And she was exactly what he needed, too. They jumped into bed too early, probably, and they had kind of a weird history together, but that turned out to be a strength instead of a weakness.

Okay, yeah. It was me. Three years after that night in the hotel, we moved back in together, this time as an engaged couple. In our vows later that year, we both made sure to emphasize "and forsaking all others." It's turned out to be pretty easy, even a couple decades later, even after kids and the empty nest phase and all of the other ups and downs of life. Marlene made it easy to stay faithful, and I never gave her any reason to doubt me. She does still enjoy being my sweet little married whore from time to time when we're alone together, though. Some habits are hard to break, and it's not like I pushed real hard to get rid of that one.

------------------------------------------

If you enjoyed this, I have a recommendation: go check out the short story Fragile by EmilyMiller. Like this one, it's about the kindness of strangers and how sometimes meeting the right person at the right time can be the best way to let go of past pain.

Emily also writes just absolutely stupidly hot sex scenes, if that's of interest to you, and her stories can switch seamlessly between funny, heartfelt, raunchy, and contemplative. Her work is mostly in Fetish, but she's dabbled in a number of other categories. Most recently, she's put in a couple of really great Sci-Fi submissions, Coleoidphilia and its sequel Determination. The stories are centered around an alien, but they're still wonderfully human. Emily's never posted in LW, so play nice in the comments, y'all.

In the near future, I'm going to be recommending more writers here that I think you'd enjoy, mostly but not entirely folks that don't currently have any/many works in Loving Wives. They're authors that I enjoy and think deserve more attention. If you can suggest anyone that you believe fits the bill, go ahead and send me feedback!