I can’t believe I’m standing here, watching her get ready, knowing what she did last night. The way she’s moving, so carefully, like every step hurts, it’s a reminder of how much she enjoyed it. I should be angry, but I’m not. I’m just… sad. Sad that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t satisfy her like he did. She looks so beautiful, so delicate, but I know the truth. I know what she’s capable of, what she wants. And I’m just the cuckold, standing here, waiting for her to finish getting ready, so we can go out and pretend like everything is normal. Like I didn’t just hear her whisper ‘I’ve never been fucked like that before’ to her reflection. Like I’m not the one who has to live with the knowledge that she’s sore because of someone else.