A Love That Was Never Meant to Be

Theo Point of View Usually a comforting presence in my office at the private clinic, the aroma of Bluebell and Cedarwood from the diffuser wrapped around me. However, the scent of Bluebell and Cedarwood from the diffuser mocked me tonight. I was late, and I should have been anywhere else instead of forcing myself to push through endless documentation. idiot. For what reason did I treat myself? The sounds began through the thin walls, soft at first then clearly identifiable. Lunges. Muans. The sensation of skin meeting skin is palpable. The leather examination table groans in time. And then the voices arrived. "Oh my god... definitely yes, please. More. This is done in exactly the same manner. "Faster". Tell me, doctor. Please!" The muffled cries of a woman, desperate and needy, filled the room. "You like it like that?" The voice was low and smooth as silk. Callum spoke. My tummy turned over. Surely. Friday night was here. His "coaching" session is after hours. These sessions were specifically tailored for his specific clientele. I was aware of this. Every Tuesday and Friday, Callum transformed into a master of intimacy and a guide to pleasure. I had entered his office unannounced in search of a file the first time I learned about it. Seeing him—shirtless, his body moving in time with a woman under him—was etched into my memory. I had stopped in the doorway, heat washing over my face as he looked up, hardly breaking stride. My heart hammering, I had shut the door. He laughed it off later, as though it were no major issue. "You should have knocked," he advised. I should have done. Back then, though, I knew nothing. I had no idea that Callum was not just the other half of the clinic we created together, but also my friend. I had no idea I would sink so profoundly into hopelessly loving him. And now, here I was, forced to listen as he gave himself to someone else. It was Isla and Poppy tonight; I had seen them at the clinic earlier. Isla and Poppy were always clutching their hands and laughing heartily. Tonight, they weren’t just giggling. "Ohh, indeed! Indeed, exactly! A whiny whimper with a high pitch. A low groan. I closed my jaw. They were not transgressing any laws. Neither Callum nor anyone else. He was simply his normal self. Reliable. Proficient. He is totally and utterly irresistible. And straight. That was the part that killed me the most. I could lie to myself all I wanted, tell myself that maybe one day he’d see me differently. But I knew the truth. Callum had never looked at me that way. Never would. I gripped my pen so hard it almost snapped, my vision blurring. The patient report in front of me became unreadable. God, I was pathetic. More moans. More movement. The sound of bodies running across. Trying to close it out, I pushed my hands to my temples. But I could already see Callum's hands on their bodies, his mouth against their skin. The way he has to be viewing them. He exhibits a sloppy approach, lacking confidence and intensity. I wanted it to be me. I wanted to be the one he whispered those things to, the one he let see him lose control. Underneath him. That was never going to happen, though. I pushed my chair back and yanked open my desk drawer, looking aimlessly until my fingers came upon my earbuds. I blasted my classical music through them and into my ears. Vaughan, Handel, elgar. Usually, comforting music helps me concentrate. However, it wasn't effective tonight. There was a time when every deep vibration of the cello felt like an echo of my own pain. The violins swelled just as another desperate cry from the next room broke through. Oh, indeed! I am rather close. Never stop, doctor!" A choked sob came up my throat. I had nothing. I remained a silent observer. I felt like a pathetic fool, drowning in emotions that I had no right to feel. More echoes. The volume is increasing at the moment. Accelerated. Callum's voice was low and commanding. Indeed, that is exactly how I feel. For me, you are perfect. I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against my ears as though I could block everything out. But it served no purpose. I had perfect hearing for everything. And, with God's assistance, I could also see it quite clearly. His fingers must dig into soft skin, and his muscles must flex. He had hunger in his voice and heat in his eyes. He should present himself as necessary when he eventually releases. I bit very hard on my lip until I tasted copper. It did not stop the aching. It did not stop the stifling, terrible need I had for something I could never have. The sounds intensified to a high decibel level. The noises amounted to sharp, broken screams of relief. The gasps were agonizing. Then, finally, silence. I opened my eyes and fixed my gaze blankly on the patient files strewn across my desk. Again, the air smelt of lavender and sandalwood, cloying and suffocating. There was muffled laughter in the next room, quiet voices. Callum laughed once more after saying something I couldn't understand. I felt a swift, excruciating twist in my chest. I yanked my earbuds free and slammed them down on the desk. Why did I treat myself this way? Despite knowing what I would hear, why did I stay late? Perhaps some of me yearned to suffer. Perhaps because it was the only way I could be near to him. I let out a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly to force back the sting behind my eyes. Then, there was the sound of footsteps. Coming closer. I stiffened as the office echoed with a soft knock. Not at all, not right now. Not while I was still drowning in everything I sensed. She was shaking too. I pushed my voice to be steady while swallowing hard. Yeah? The door creaked open, then Callum. He stood in the doorway, sweat clinging to his skin, his hair a mess, and his shirt still unbuttoned at the top. His dark eyes fixed upon me. "You're still here?" My breath hung in my throat. Not able to look at him. Unlike this. I'm not in the middle of my heart, still breaking. I pushed myself to grin and to behave as though nothing was wrong. "Yeah," I said, my voice rough. "Just finishing up papers." Callum slanted his head to study me. His expression flickered with something unreadable. The air between us seemed too weighty at times. Highly charged. He then started to approach closely. I inhaled deeply, my heart pounding. When he spoke, his voice was low. "You alright?" I opened my mouth, ready to lie. I was prepared to report that I was in good health. Still, the words would not flow. I wasn't feeling it at the time. And I had no idea how long I could continue to fool others. Callum advanced again, his gaze fixed on me. The echoes of everything that had occurred in that room persisted. Still, I could clearly see his manner, his voice, and his look. I could have drowned in it. I wasn't sure if I could regain my confidence at first glance. He went one more stride. nearer. Following that— Tell me the truth, he urged. "What's incorrect?"