Every Thursday afternoon, while my husband was at work, the pool guy would come over. At first, it was just glances and smiles, but soon those moments turned into lingering conversations. His easy charm and the thrill of secrecy drew me in. We would steal kisses by the pool and spend hours hidden away in the cabana, wrapped in a world where nothing else mattered.
But as the days went by, the weight of my secret grew heavier. Every time I looked at my husband, I felt a pang of guilt mixed with a rush of adrenaline. The pool guy and I knew we were playing with fire, but neither of us was ready to stop. It was a dangerous dance, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep it up before everything came crashing down.
