Faced with my husband’s looming unemployment, we were desperate. The bills were piling up, the pressure mounting, and every potential solution led to another dead end. Then, his boss made an offer—a deal neither of us wanted but couldn’t refuse.

“One night with her,” he said with unnerving calm, “and your job is secure.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating us both. At first, we were outraged, disgusted. But desperation has a way of making even the unthinkable feel… necessary. What were we supposed to do? Lose everything? Start over with nothing?

After countless sleepless nights and hushed, painful conversations, my husband finally said, If you do this, we’ll move on. We’ll forget.

So, I did it.

It was supposed to be one night. A cold, detached transaction in the name of survival. I told myself it didn’t mean anything—that when I walked away, it would all disappear like a bad dream.

But some things don’t just fade.

My husband tried to pretend, to act as if everything was normal. But I caught the way his eyes lingered on me, as if seeing me through different lenses. His touch became hesitant, uncertain. And then there was his boss—the way he smirked when we crossed paths, the way his presence suddenly loomed over my life.

Because one night wasn’t enough for him.

And worse—I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be.