Push it

This time something in you refuses to let it sit. You do not head for the shower. You pull on a pair of sweatpants over the heavy ache and follow her out of the bedroom, footsteps quick down the short hallway.

Natasha is already in the kitchen, filling the kettle, back still turned. You stop in the doorway.

“We need to talk about this,” you say, voice harder than the playful tone you tried earlier. “Months of the same answer. Sore. Tired. Not in the mood. I am done pretending it is fine. What is actually going on?”

She sets the kettle down with more force than necessary and turns. The closed expression is still there, but underneath it something sharper flickers.

“You really want to know?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Natasha folds her arms across the robe, brunette hair still loose, short curvy body framed by the morning light through the window. When she answers, the words are calm, almost conversational, and they hit like a slap.

“I’ve been sleeping with Ruby for the last four months. She comes over when you are at work. Sometimes at lunch. Sometimes in the evenings when you stay late. She makes me cum harder than you ever have, and she doesn’t make me feel like I am doing her a favour by opening my legs. That’s what’s going on. That’s why I keep saying no to you. I’m already being taken care of.”

The kitchen stays silent except for the low click of the kettle starting to heat. Natasha does not look away. She simply waits for the words to finish landing, the same woman who refused a single kiss five minutes ago now standing there admitting a months-long affair with the coworker you have always treated like a friend.