𝖎𝖓𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊.

013.

☽

SHE FEARED THE WORST would happen as she drove down that road to see a man she desperately needed answers from. Ones that required the mention of committing adultery. There was this paranoia she had dangling above her head constantly as she made her way to Zayn, regretting not informing Harry on where she had been going this morning. Harry was exhausted last night when they came back from the gala, deciding to kick rocks at her place and fall asleep as soon as his face hit the plush fabric of her duvet.

She didn't mind it since they came home late and drunk, weakly smiling at him as she listened to him snore. And that night, right before she had prepared herself for bed, she went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of red wine and sat on her couch for almost an hour with the TV turned low and a series of late-night adult cartoons playing in a loop. It felt like that as her brain spun with millions of thoughts. Her phone was in her hand, repeatedly blinking at her screen as she contemplated on calling Zayn. His stupid fucking business card in her other hand once she sat down her glass of wine, noticing he changed his number. It bothered her deeply. Not that he changed his number, but because she couldn't make a simple decision, afraid of it being a good or bad one. Not wanting to face the outcome of it all.

But then she processed the thought of why she needed to call him. She craved answers. It itched at her skin like insects digging into dirt and it ticked her off. She wanted to gather as much detail as possible from what happened between them, even if she didn't want to recollect the memory-it was the only way she could move on. Thumb tracing over the dial pad, she typed, deleted, and retyped his number. Shutting her phone off and frustratingly pushing her hair away from her face, fingers pressing against her temples as she sighed heavily.

"C'mon Star, just fucking do it. You know him, alright? He's not some random stranger. He was your husband." She paused. "​Was,​" she scoffed, chuckling and shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

She picked up her phone again, furiously typing in her password before putting his number back into the keypad and pressing call, setting the phone to her ear and listening to it ring, her heart thrashing anxiously against her chest, her anxiety getting to her before she quickly hung up, groaning to herself.

"You have to talk to him!" She angrily snapped at herself. "If it's not now, then it'll be never. You need to understand why he-​cheated on you." She cringed at the word because it was something that she could never understand.

She'll never understand how someone could cheat on their significant other if they claimed they loved them. There's always a reason for someone to cheat. For men, it could be that they weren't as sexually satisfied as they used to be with the woman or man they were with. The same positions, words, touches-could seem pointless now, and they no longer feel like they could say something. If they said something, it could hurt the person they were with, and even though they felt like they loved them, they wouldn't want to do anything to hurt them. They feared going through that, so; they cheated. Then they claimed it was a mistake.

Cheating does not classify itself as a mistake. The person who found someone else to, touch, kiss, have sex with-they're responsible for deciding. There's no excuse. When a woman cheats, it's more of an emotional experience. Women could easily get bored, and when their spouse isn't showing as much affection as they did at the beginning of their relationship or isn't showing more than she is-it's an automatic turn off. This leads to her finding someone else who she'll feel treats her entirely better and shows her attention and affection. Either way, both were in the wrong.