While I wait and accept.

The morning was a masked routine. The children left early for school with their grandmother, and Ana came down to the kitchen after showering and started preparing our breakfast, acting with her usual energy. She, my wife… moving around the house as if nothing had happened. But I knew, felt, and had allowed it.

It wasn't the shirt. It wasn't the makeup or the underwear. It was the energy. That glint in her eyes. That new confidence I had never seen before. As if she knew something I didn't. As if someone had fucked her again… and I hadn't been invited this time.

She said she was going to see a friend. She said it without stuttering. With a firm voice. I believed her. Or pretended to. I gave her a soft, almost mechanical kiss on the cheek. And I watched her leave, wearing those jeans that looked painted on her body. Showing her bra. And without any guilt.

When the door closed, I felt a knot in my stomach. I stood still, looking at the floor.

I knew perfectly well where she was going.

And, fuck, the worst part wasn't the pain. It was the erection. Desire mixed with betrayal. What was wrong with me? Why was I hard thinking about another man—Raúl—being between her legs right now? What kind of monster gets turned on by that?

I locked myself in the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bathtub. I closed my eyes. And I imagined everything.

Her entering the hotel room. Raúl waiting for her. That confident, dominant bastard, with his perfect body. Her slowly taking off her dress. Her opening her legs for him. Her moaning his name… like she did with me that same morning.

My pulse quickened. I pulled out my cock, hard as a rock. I gripped it tightly, feeling a pang in my chest. Jealousy, desire, rage… all mixed together. I started jerking off violently, without gentleness, without pause.

I imagined Raúl grabbing her by the neck while he fucked her from behind. How he licked her cunt. How he made her come again and again. I imagined his tongue, his cock, his smell. I imagined his nails marking my wife's skin. Her moans. Her closed eyes. Her total surrender.

And then I saw it clearly.

She wasn't just mine anymore.

And that, instead of breaking me… made me explode.

I came like a madman, panting, my hand soaked and my body trembling. It was one of the most intense wanks of my life. Not for physical pleasure… but for what was forbidden. For what was dark. For what was new.

I looked at myself in the mirror, sweaty, my breathing ragged.

"What the fuck is happening to us?" I asked myself softly.

But deep down… I knew.

We had opened a door. And what was behind it couldn't be closed so easily.

She came home a few hours later. Her hair was disheveled, there was a faint red mark on her neck, her walk was slower. Her smile was calm. Full. She kissed me as if nothing had happened and went into the bathroom.

I stood looking at the coffee she had left on the counter.

It was still warm.

Like her body.

Like my mind.

Like everything that was about to happen.