Alex left Secretary Jessica's home quietly, burdened with a deep sense of guilt that weighed down his steps. The cool night air hit his face, but it wasn't enough to shake off the knot of shame tightening in his chest. He took a few heavy breaths. His heart raced, pounding erratically as if trying to keep up with the thoughts spiraling in his mind. Alex felt a strange urge to scream, almost hysterically. He didn't want to think about how Jessica was feeling—no, his own self-loathing was consuming him.
What have I done? The question repeated in his head over and over, each time growing louder. What's wrong with me?
Alex started walking down the empty streets, his feet moving of their own accord while his mind remained trapped in the scene that had unfolded in Jessica's home. Her soft whispers, her tear-filled eyes, the way her hands trembled as she reached for him—every detail replayed vividly, tormenting him. He'd almost crossed a line he could never return from, and even though he had stopped before things went too far, the weight of the moment felt no less crushing.
A cold gust of wind slapped him in the face, snapping him back to the present. He shivered and finally became aware of his surroundings. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the roads were nearly deserted at this late hour. Alex stopped walking and looked around, confused.
Where am I even going? he thought, realizing he'd been walking aimlessly. His mind felt foggy, weighed down by the mess of emotions swirling inside him. The empty street felt eerily quiet. What am I doing?
He stood in place, unsure of his next move, when suddenly, a car horn blared behind him. A taxi had pulled up, and the driver rolled down his window to shout at him for blocking the road. Alex blinked, his mind catching up to the situation. He waved the driver away with an apologetic smile, muttering a soft "Sorry" under his breath. As the taxi sped off, Alex laughed bitterly at himself.
Look at me, standing in the middle of the street like some idiot. What a mess.
He checked his phone, noticing it was getting late. His first instinct was to head back to his apartment—his tiny, solitary sanctuary where he could be alone with his thoughts. There, he could shut himself off from the world, curl up in bed, and try to make sense of everything.
But as his fingers hovered over his phone, he remembered the director. She was expecting him, or at least, she had been earlier. How could he face her now? There was no way he could hide the turmoil inside him; she would see right through him. She knew him, and worse, he cared too much about what she thought.
What could I possibly say to her? The question gnawed at him as he tried to think of an excuse—something, anything, that would explain why he couldn't come over tonight. Lying to her felt wrong, but he couldn't bear the thought of confessing what had almost happened.
Well, sometimes lies are necessary, he reasoned, trying to convince himself. At least the ones that are meant to protect people.
With a sigh, Alex dialed the director's number. When she picked up, her voice was warm and familiar, but Alex could detect a hint of concern. "Alex, where are you? I thought you'd be here by now."
"Yeah, about that," Alex started, forcing a smile into his voice. "Some friends called me out after I left Secretary Jessica's place. They wanted to catch up, and well, it's going a bit late. I don't think I'll be able to make it tonight. I'm really sorry."
There was a pause on the other end. "I see," the director finally replied, her tone calm but tinged with disappointment. "Just be careful, okay? Don't drink too much, and make sure you get home safely."
Her words were kind, but they only deepened the guilt gnawing at Alex. He hated lying to her. More than anything, he hated how much he was letting her down, even if she didn't know the full extent of it.
"Yeah, I will," he promised. "Thank you, Sister. I'm sorry again."
She didn't say anything more, just a soft goodbye before hanging up. Alex stared at his phone, the silence in his ear only amplifying the shame he felt. He had lied to her, and even though it was a small lie, it felt enormous.
He let out another long sigh, rubbing his temples as he tried to shake off the overwhelming guilt. His thoughts drifted back to Jessica. The image of her, lonely and desperate, lingered in his mind. He had seen the cracks in her strong exterior tonight, the toll that years of solitude had taken on her.
Is this what happens when loneliness eats away at you for too long? he wondered. He couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for her. Jessica had always been composed, professional, and formidable. But underneath that, there was a woman who had spent years longing for affection, for connection. And tonight, that facade had crumbled.
Was that why she acted the way she did? Alex thought. Was it really just years of pent-up repression and loneliness?
He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind turned over the events of the night. Jessica's vulnerability had caught him off guard, but in a way, it also made him realize something. People, no matter how strong they appeared on the outside, could still break when they were pushed too far.
She's been suffering for so long, It's no wonder she acted that way. Maybe... maybe she just needed someone to remind her that she's still alive, that she can still feel something.
And yet, despite his empathy for Jessica, Alex's thoughts kept returning to the director. She was the woman he truly loved, the one he had been holding out for. His decision to stop things with Jessica wasn't just about morality—it was about saving something for the person who mattered most.
But she's married. a voice in his head reminded him, the harsh reality settling in. The director had a family—a husband, a child—and there was no place for him in her world, not in the way he wanted.
What am I even hoping for? Alex thought bitterly. She treats me like a younger brother. That's all I'll ever be to her.
Feeling foolish and defeated, Alex shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. He had been living in a fantasy, clinging to some impossible dream.
With a deep sigh, he pulled the blankets over his head, willing his mind to quiet down. Eventually, the weight of the day's events began to fade, and Alex drifted into a restless sleep.