When you love someone, when you truly love them, you can't bear the thought of losing them.
But I think that the more time that had passed, the more okay I became with the idea of getting caught.
That must've been the case, because there is no other explanation as to why I didn't stop.
24th of December.
Christmas Eve.
And my dad still hadn't returned that day, as my mum had said.
I grew more and more miserable - she barely spoke any words to me, and when she did, I would turn her down.
Afraid that she'd ask what happened, and even more afraid that I would actually give in and tell her. She couldn't know about Sam - she most certainly couldn't know about how I was messing around with another behind his back.
It would break her, and it would break me to admit to it out loud.
And so,
