I still can't believe I'm doing this.
My hands shake slightly as I pull the tight white tank top over my head. It's thin—way too thin. My n*****s harden from nerves and the cool air of the AC, pressing visibly against the fabric. I glance at myself in the bedroom mirror, feeling a rush of shame mixed with near regret. What kind of woman have I become? Married for eight years, and suddenly I'm baking cookies like some desperate housewife just to get the neighbor's attention.
But every time I close my eyes, I see it again.
That night three weeks ago. I had stepped out to take the trash out. Their living room curtains weren’t fully closed. Jason had his wife, Chloe, pinned against the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He was f*****g her so hard the picture frame above them r
