The rain hammered against the window pane, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Natasha's heart. She cradled a mug of lukewarm chamomile tea, the steam doing little to calm the storm brewing inside her.
Xander's words, light and lingering, echoed in her mind- "Natasha I can't pretend anymore." A soft smile touched her lips despite herself. He'd always been there, a comforting presence in the periphery of her marriage, her husband, Reynold's, best friend. He'd been the reliable one, the one who always made her laugh, the one who noticed the subtle shifts in her mood.
But the idea of that evolving, of moving to something more, it felt like walking a tightrope over a chasm. It had started innocently, a lingering touch here, a shared glance there.
Now, the reality of it hit her like a cold splash. She was married. To Reynolds. And the thought of betraying him, of lying and sneaking, of actively participating in an act that was so totally against her morals, twisted her gut. A heavy knot formed in her stomach.
Infatuation was one thing, actually cheating was another. It was a betrayal of not just Reynolds, but of herself and her own values.
With a sigh, Natasha pushed away the tea, the ceramic clattering softly against the table. She needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew her, someone who wouldn't judge immediately. Her aunt, Millie, was the obvious choice. Millie, with her sharp wit and even sharper instincts, had been a rock throughout Natasha's life.
Natasha stood up and went straight to Millie's room. She recounted the last few days, her voice trembling slightly as she confessed the burgeoning feelings for Xander, the allure, and now the crushing weight of the potential affair.
Millie listened patiently, her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingers knitting with practiced ease. When Natasha finished, a heavy silence filled the room. Finally, Millie set her knitting aside, her gaze direct and unwavering.
"So," she said, her voice soft but firm, "you're torn between the excitement of a new connection and the guilt of betraying your marriage. That's understandable." She paused, taking Natasha's hand in hers. "But the real question isn't 'what should you do?' my dear. It's what do you want?'"
Natasha blinked, surprised. "What, What do you mean?"
Millie's eyes twinkled. "I mean, are you running away from unhappiness with Reynolds, or are you genuinely drawn to something authentic with Xander? Is this thrill truly a longing for him, or is it the thrill of the forbidden?"
She leaned forward, her voice a low murmur. "Because Natasha, you can absolutely walk away from this. You can choose to be a woman who honors her commitments, who works to improve what you have. Or, you can choose something else. But whichever path you take, make sure it's because that's the path you really, truly want."
The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with possibilities. It wasn't about the right or the wrong answer, the safe or the exciting path. It was about her own desires, her own truth, something she had almost lost in the whirlwind of emotion.
Natasha looked at her aunt, a seed of clarity beginning to take root in the chaos of her mind. Millie's words resonated deep within her, forcing her to confront the messy, complicated truth of her feelings.
Xander stared at his phone, the screen dimming before he jabbed it again, and illuminating Natasha's name. He'd tried calling her twice already, but she didn't pick up. He was genuinely worried.
He'd envisioned a scenario: a sunny afternoon at their favorite café, catching up over lattes, maybe even making her laugh. Finally, the ringing stopped and Natasha's voice, thick and hesitant, answered. "Xander?"
"Hey, Nat! How are you doing? I've been thinking about you."
There was a long pause, punctuated by a small, muffled sniffle. "I'm, okay."
Okay was a lie, he knew it. "I was wondering," he forged ahead, "if you maybe wanted to grab coffee? My treat of course, just to get out of the house."
Another silence stretched, heavy and laced with tension. Xander could practically feel the internal battle raging within her.
"Xander, I, I can't," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"What? Why not? Are you working?"
"No, it's, I'm going back to Reynolds."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Going back to Reynolds's. Back to the tension, the criticisms, the quiet, simmering resentment.
"Back? But, I thought you were staying at your aunt's for a while?" The confusion was evident in his voice. He knew she needed a break.
"I was," she said, her voice cracking again. "But, I want my marriage to work, so I'll go back and try to make things work out."
Xander swallowed, the coffee shop fantasy dissolving like sugar in water. He wanted to scream, to tell her she deserved better, to beg her to think about herself for once. But he knew that wasn't on his place.
"Natasha are you sure this is what you want?" he asked trying to keep his voice neutral.
"Yes Xander," she interrupted, sounding defensive. "I need to try. I can't just give up on my marriage. Not yet."
He could hear the desperation clinging to her words, the fear of failure, the hope, however faint, that things might actually change.
"Okay," he said, the word tasting like ash in mouth. "Okay just be careful, okay? And if things aren't working, if you need anything at all, promise me you'll call."
"I will, Xander. Thank you." She sounded genuinely grateful, and that made it even harder.
"Anytime, Nat. Always."
Natasha hung up, the screen going dark. She slumped back on the couch in the living room, running a hand through her hair. She knew, deep down that Reynolds wouldn't change, but all she could do was try again, and hope he would eventually change.