My boss at the small office where I work has been married for longer than I’ve been alive. He’s the kind of man who seems grounded, successful, and deeply rooted in his family life, or so it seems from the outside. His wife drops by frequently, always with a box of fresh-baked cookies or brownies, her warmth filling the room as she hands them out and chats with us. She’s so proud of their kids, who seem to be involved in everything—sports, school plays, you name it. She updates us on all their achievements, and I can tell she’s a genuinely lovely person.

But beneath that wholesome surface, I’m entangled in something I can barely believe. My boss and I have been meeting in secret, stolen moments in the office supply closet or quiet corners when no one’s around. The thrill of it has me hooked, the rush of adrenaline when I catch his eye across the office, knowing what we’re hiding. I know I should feel worse about it; sometimes, when his wife drops by with her sweet, friendly smile, I do. Yet the feeling fades the second we’re alone again. The intensity, the thrill, has a way of overshadowing any guilt, leaving me craving the next moment we can sneak away.

It’s complicated. I never expected to feel this drawn to him, especially with everything at stake. But somehow, in this tangled web of secrecy and excitement, I can’t bring myself to walk away. I know it’s wrong, and maybe one day, I’ll have to face the consequences, but for now, the thrill of our secret connection keeps me captivated in ways I never thought possible.