Losing her

As Derek leaves and Amy shuts the door behind him, you close your eyes tightly and feign unconsciousness, listening intently as she tiptoes around the living room, cleaning up the carnage of their illicit encounter. The sound of her delicate hands picking up the sticky, cum-soaked tissues fills your ears, a grim symphony of your shattered reality. You can almost feel the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

Once the room is restored to a semblance of order, you slowly peel your eyes open, gauging her reaction. She gasps, her eyes widening with feigned concern. "Oh, honey!" she coos, rushing to your side. "You're finally awake! I was so worried!"

Her voice is sticky-sweet, a mockery of the love you once believed in. "What...what happened?" you croak, your voice raw with pain and humiliation.

"Oh honey, you don't remember?" Amy asks, her voice a mix of innocence and sly amusement. She gently helps you sit up, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of what just transpired. "Derek showed up and was being such an asshole, you two had an arm wresting contest and... well, let's just say he's a bit stronger than you. After you passed out, well... Forget about it. The main thing is that you're OK." she says, her eyes shimmering with the excitement of her recent conquest. "Anyway, I told him to leave. He said some terrible things about you, but I stood up to him. I threw that piece of shit out, baby. I sat with you the whole time, making sure you were okay."

You can't believe the audacity of her lie. You know she was begging for his cock, her body a willing receptacle for his vile seed. But you play along, for now. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice tight with anger. "You don't have to thank me," she says, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that feels like acid. "I love you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you."

You nod, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. "I love you too, Amy," you reply, your voice a hollow echo of what it once was.

Her eyes light up with joy, and for a fleeting moment, you're convinced she truly believes her own lie. She moves closer, wrapping her arms around your neck, her soft breasts pressing against your chest as she kisses you. Her lips are swollen and taste faintly of someone else's passion, a flavor you know isn't yours.

As days pass, your suspicion of Amy's infidelity grows stronger than the migraine that still lingers from that fateful night. You catch her eyes glued to her phone screen, her thumbs dancing over the keys like a pianist playing a secret love sonnet to an unseen lover. You pretend not to notice, but it's impossible to ignore the way her cheeks flush and her breath hitches when she receives a message, or how she quickly hides her phone when you enter the room. Her laughter, once reserved for your dumb jokes, now echoes through the apartment at all hours of the night, directed at someone else's words.

And then there are the countless selfies, the kind you used to love. Now they're not for you; they're for him. Derek. The name burns in your mind like a brand. You catch glimpses of her phone screen, her posing in lingerie that you bought her, pouting in ways she's never done for you, sending snapshots of her perky breasts and the ass you thought was yours to adore. Her texts are a constant stream of x's and o's, her phone lighting up like a Christmas tree of deceit.

One night, you suggest to watch a movie together, trying to salvage the shreds of intimacy that remained. But her eyes glaze over, and she checks her phone every five minutes, sending texts faster than you can keep count. "No honey, I'm so tired," she says, feigned exhaustion dripping from her voice. "I go to bed, watch it without me." You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and watch her retreat to the bedroom. The door clicks shut.

You crank the volume of the TV up to eleven, the sound of explosions and fake laughter bouncing off the walls, creating a sonic shield to hide your true intentions. You tiptoe to the bedroom door, your heart racing like a snitch in a Quidditch match. You lean in, your ear to the wood, and listen. The whispers are faint. The words cut deeper than any sword. "Oh baby," she purrs, "I need you cock so bad. I want you to fill me up again." Not even the roar of a dragon could have pierced your soul more. "Did you like my rimjob last time?" she giggles, a sound that once sent shivers down your spine but now feels like nails on a chalkboard.

The conversation is a blur of moans and sweet nothings that aren't for you. You strain to catch every syllable, your fists clenching at your side. "Why don't you want me to come over?" she whispers, a **** longing in her voice. Your heart plummets to your stomach. "But I need you," she whimpers. "I miss your touch. Why don't you want me to leave him?", she says, her voice breaking.

"Oh, honey you know I will do anything you say. Okay, I'll stay with him as long as you want," Amy whispers into the phone, her voice a seductive purr that sends a shiver down your spine. The sound of the TV in the living room fills the apartment, masking the betrayal that's unfolding in the bedroom. You clutch the doorknob, your knuckles white with rage, and lean in closer to the crack in the door.

And finally comes the knockout blow, "I'm all yours, Derek. Take me whenever you want," Amy whispers into the phone, her voice a siren's call that pierces through the TV's noise and straight into your soul. "I love you," she says, the words so clear that it feels like she's speaking them directly to you, but you know she's not. You're not the one she's professing her love to. You're just the sad, pathetic cuck who's **** to listen to his girlfriend's ultimate betrayal.