Taylor slept quietly beside you, her arms around your body, head on your chest. The sunlight peeked through the blinds on her bedroom window as you slowly glanced at your phone, blowing up with notifications from somebody named 'Elaine.'
The time read 7:37am.
"Shit." You cursed under your breath. Gingerly, you unhooked Taylor's loving arms from your body and slipped out of the bed. Your feet hit the cold wooden floor, then a few steps forwards you could feel the soft carpet beneath you. In complete silence you crept into Taylor's en suite and stripped yourself of your pyjama shorts and bra that you'd fallen asleep in after last night's intimacy.
After a careful moment of silence to ensure Taylor remained asleep, you discreetly entered the shower, and as the warm water trickled down your bare body the guilt set in. You knew what you were doing. Today had approached like a high-speed train, soaring down the tracks; you hadn't expect it to come so soon. Steam condensed upon the glass of the shower and with a shaky hand you drew a very lazy, sad looking heart.
'I'm sorry.'
You wrote below, in messy handwriting that could easily be confused with chicken scratch.
Tears began pouring down your face like a fountain, streaming down your cheeks and merging with the water falling from the shower head above. The salty, watery taste found its way into your mouth and your mind was a wormhole of thoughts. Suddenly, you became conscious of how much time you'd wasted in the bathroom.
You quickly washed yourself with your favourites of Taylor's body washes so that you could at least smell of her on the last day you'd see her. After doing so you regretted it almost instantaneously, as you realised the guilt you'd carry around with you all day.
You stepped out of the shower and reached for your towel, fresh out of the dryer. It was warm, cosy and reminded you of Taylor, only worsening your mood. Wrapping the towel around your body, you dried yourself off and used a gentle moisturiser on your skin.
As you started to get dressed you heard some commotion from next door, your heart rate was sent skywards. "Fuck, nonono..." You mumbled, hastily dragging on your jeans, t-shirt and socks. You cracked the en suite door ajar and peeked out. Taylor was stirring in her sleep, whimpering softly, and you wanted nothing more than to comfort her and give her kisses and affection.
But your wife needed you home.
So you had to go.
"y/n...?" Taylor murmured, almost incoherently.
You reached out to her, then shook your head and reached for your pre-packed suitcase from the previous night.
"baby, where're you going...?" she whined in her innocent, sleepy voice. "w-what about morning cuddles...? baby?" her eyes looked as though they brimmed with tears, only tearing your heart to shreds.
"I'm so sorry, angel...I need to go," You stammered, combing your hands through your freshly-showered hair and clasping your fingers around the handle of your suitcase. "I-I'll..." You trailed off. You wanted to say you'd be back, but you couldn't bring yourself to lie to her face more than you needed to.
Taylor wasn't a fool. She'd caught you out a long time ago. There were messages on your phone and photos in your camera roll, polaroids in your secret wallet, and of course, a ring. She knew you were married to another woman, and as much as you may have held no remaining love for this woman, and so decided not to tell Taylor, a marriage is a marriage; and will always overrule anything else. She knew the day you wife wanted you home was coming, and she'd prepared months, nearly a year, in advance.
"Baby, I'm so sorry, I forgot, I have a work meeting..." You whispered, sitting beside her as she laid beneath the duvet on your shared bed and stroking her blonde hair. She couldn't help but nestle her head into your touch, even if she was well aware that you were lying to her face.
