THE RELEASE
897 Words
Vanessa texted Derek at 2 PM.
Same place. Now.
She didn't ask. She didn't say please. She needed him the way she needed air — not for love, not for romance, but to feel something other than the slow suffocation of her marriage.
He replied in seconds: On my way.
---
She arrived first.
The hotel room was the same as always — white sheets, city view, a faint smell of lemon cleaner. She stood by the window, looking out at the gray sky, and didn't think about Adrian. Didn't think about Nina. Didn't think about the receipt in her pocket, the one she had read so many times the paper had softened.
She thought about nothing.
The door opened. Derek walked in.
He didn't speak. He crossed the room in three strides and took her face in his hands. His kiss was hard, urgent, almost angry. She kissed him back the same way.
No softness. No tenderness. Just need.
---
They didn't make it to the bed.
He pressed her against the wall, his body pinning hers. His hands were rough — pulling at her blouse, her skirt, her underwear. She clawed at his belt, his pants, anything to get him closer.
"Don't be gentle," she said.
"I won't."
He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He entered her in one sharp, hard thrust.
She cried out — not from pain, but from the suddenness of it. He didn't wait. He moved fast, relentless, his breath hot against her neck.
There was no rhythm. No romance. Just two people using each other to forget.
---
He turned her around. Bent her over the arm of the couch. Entered her from behind, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise.
She gripped the cushion and let him take her.
No eye contact. No whispered names. Just the sound of skin against skin, the creak of the couch, the ragged breaths filling the room.
She came first — a sharp, sudden release that made her knees buckle. He followed moments later, his body tensing, a low groan escaping his throat.
He pulled out. Stepped back.
Neither of them spoke.
---
She went to the bathroom and cleaned up. When she came out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants still unbuttoned, his head in his hands.
She sat beside him. Not touching.
"Derek."
He didn't look up.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?"
"For using you. For calling you here like this."
He laughed — a bitter, hollow sound. "You're not using me. I came because I wanted to."
"Did you?"
He looked at her then. His eyes were tired, red-rimmed.
"I don't know what I want anymore," he said. "I don't know who I am."
---
She started crying.
Not pretty tears — ugly ones. Her shoulders shook. Her breath came in gasps. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to stop, but she couldn't.
Derek put his arm around her. Pulled her close.
"I'm such a hypocrite," she said. "I'm so angry at Adrian. I want to hurt him. I want to find the woman he's sleeping with and scratch her eyes out."
"But?"
"But I'm doing the same thing. I've been doing it for years." She looked at him, her face wet. "Who am I to be angry? Who am I to judge?"
Derek didn't answer.
"I feel like I'm losing everything," she whispered. "Adrian. You. Myself. I don't know who I am anymore."
He held her tighter.
"You're Vanessa," he said. "You're a mess. You're complicated. You've done terrible things. But you're not a monster."
"How do you know?"
"Because monsters don't cry about being monsters."
She leaned into him. Let him hold her.
---
They sat like that for a long time.
The city darkened outside. The room grew dim. Neither of them turned on a light.
"I'm going to end it," Derek said finally.
Vanessa pulled back. "End what?"
"This. Us." He gestured between them. "I can't do it anymore, Vanessa. The guilt is killing me. Every time I see Adrian, I want to throw up."
She nodded slowly. "I know."
"I love you. But I can't —" He stopped. Swallowed. "I can't be the person who destroys my brother."
"You're not destroying him. I am. I already have."
"Then let's stop. Both of us. Let's stop before there's nothing left."
She looked at him. His face was raw, open, vulnerable.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Okay. We stop."
He kissed her forehead — soft, sad, nothing like the hungry kisses from earlier.
"This is goodbye," he said.
"It doesn't have to be."
"Yes. It does."
He stood up. Buttoned his pants. Tucked in his shirt. He looked at her one last time.
"I'll always love you, Vanessa."
She nodded. "I'll always love you too."
He walked to the door. Opened it.
"Derek."
He turned.
"Take care of yourself."
He smiled — a small, broken smile.
"You too."
Then he was gone.
---
Vanessa sat alone in the hotel room.
The sheets were rumpled. The couch was askew. The city was dark outside.
She pulled out her phone. Scrolled to Adrian's contact.
I'm sorry, she typed. For everything.
She didn't send it.
She deleted the message, turned off her phone, and sat in the dark until the room felt like a tomb.
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