My Mistake | Michael Langdon
I wrote this a while ago and it’s been on my laptop for a while so, i thought it was time to post it. I might be planning a part two for this. So that’s why it’s kind of short. If people like it, i might start another part. But i also might not so… lol.
The room was mostly dark. Soft light from the street lamps outside. The small gap in the curtains. Quiet. Her chest heaving. Michael panting beside her. Familiar. Every Wednesday night. She sat up, reaching for her jeans. A strong arm wrapped around her waist pulling her back.
“No. Stay for a bit, cuddle me”. He smirks against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
She laughs, turning to see his face. He flicks a switch, light flooding the hotel room. Beautiful. His chest, cheeks, neck, a shade of pink. Sweat. He pushes his long hair away from his forehead. Laying back against the pillows. Arm’s reaching for her, a smirk. She looks down at her clothes beside the bed. Expensive jeans, a gift. From her husband. Her husband - not Michael. Her wedding ring was on the bedside table, she stares at it. A sigh.
He follows her gaze, the ring. He sighs too. Sitting up, wrapping his arms around her again. Head resting on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“When are you going to do it?” He asks, voice quiet. She keeps saying she will, but turns up every week still wearing that ring. She always gets to the hotel first. Michael sits in his car outside, waiting for her text.
A few months back - the first kiss. In the front of his expensive car. She had sat for weeks thinking about that kiss. Everytime she looked at the her husband she would see Michael. Blue. Those eyes. Another month passed - him, her. His bed. Waking up wearing his shirt. His hands exploring. Lips exploring. Then he would drop her off at her house, stopping at the end of the street so her husband wouldn’t see.
She often thought about how she would tell him. Her husband. How she would probably use the classic excuses: “You work a lot.”, “I got lonely.”, “I did it because i didn’t have you!”
Or, the truth. Something that she knew she wouldn’t be able to say out loud: “I love him.”
Michael made jokes about her husband a lot. He would tell her he was richer than her husband, better looking than him. That he had a funny looking face.
“I don’t know.” She exhaled. “I think he knows. To he honest, i’m kind of hoping he will leave me first.”
She felt guilty. Of course she did. She made a vow, it was all bullshit. The moment she met Michael she broke her promise.
“He won’t.” He stated. She knew this. She wanted it to be over, he did too. He wanted her to be his, she told him that she was. That she always had been, always will. But he knew that as long she still wore that ring, he was just a homewrecker. Not that he cared.
“I know. ” She turned to kiss him. His lips, warm. Her hands on either side of his face.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered. Their foreheads touching. He reached out, pulling her into a hug. She shook her head.
“I’m just going to go.” She stood, sheets wrapped around her body. “I’m tired and i have work in the morning. I’m sure you do too.”
“Is that where he thinks you are now?” Michael’s smooth voice - behind her. “At work?”
She turned, stared at him for a second. The smirk on his lips made her roll her eyes. She gathered the rest of her clothes in her arms, heading for the bathroom. When she returned, Michael was dressed too. Sitting on the edge of the expensive bed, phone in hand.
She walked around the other side and picked up her ring. He watched as she threw it in her bag instead of putting it back on her finger.
She wasn’t sure if she thought of this as a mistake or not. If there was a way to turn back time, she wasn’t sure if she would take it. She loved Michael. It was his calmness about the situation that was keeping her grounded, stopping her from panicking.
But, she’s done it. She’s been doing it - months. The worst thing that someone could do to someone they love. And she did, she did love her husband. Not in the same way as before. But she cared. She cared about him. His feelings. She feels sick, not with disgust or guilt. But fear, dread, uncertainty. There was only going to be one outcome. Unavoidable. The man she had married - hurt, betrayal.
“Does he take care of you? Like i could?” Michael asks, quiet. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t answer.
“I could easily fill his shoes.” He said, a hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. “You just have to tell him.”
“I know.” The same answer she gives him every time. She couldn’t count the amount of times they’d had this conversation. She stood, collection her things.
“Goodbye, Michael.” She leaned down, a kiss pressed to his forehead. Leaving.
She never meant it when she said goodbye. Not when it was directed towards him, anyway. He knew that in a few days she would call him. Sometimes she would text him: ‘I need you’, her husband sitting right beside her. He would rush to their normal hotel, she would do the same. They would fuck, have a conversation about how she needed to end her marriage, and then she would leave. She always left first. She always left thinking about how much she wanted to stay.
