Member-only story
The Showdown
She cocked her eyebrow. Ballsy.
Going toe-to-toe with her was not part of the plan; after all, we started as friends. But eventually, lines were drawn, emotions escalated, and the stakes got higher. Me? I aim to see this through to the end. Giving in would cost me my self-respect. Regardless, I was the last one standing as my husband tended to his wounds in the corner, disoriented from the first assault. How could this happen? I wondered. This was supposed to be an easy win.
It’s my fault. I never know when to quit. Competition surges through me like electricity. Hubby has told me that I take it too far, almost trespassing the limits of decency. Letting go is not quitting, he says. It’s knowing the opportunity cost and weighing it against your unholy desire to be right, especially with her.
Her. She sits across the table, waiting — gentle, dark brown eyes on a smooth, flawless, and warm palette. Her face, framed by soft dark hair, radiates innocence, and it was easy to believe that she could never do any harm. It occurs to me that she has exerted control since the day we met. I foolishly thought that it was my choice to bring her into my life, but now I know that fate had always meant to pair us together. At first, her needs mirrored my own. We both ached to be wanted, which manifested in a symbiotic relationship of give-and-take, until one day, I had no choice but to…
