lookatmak

Latest Posts by lookatmak

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Manny Rivera x Blakc!OC (can be read as reader though)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Manny and Naoya’s meet cute

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - swearing, grammar errors,

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬! - It’s been a while…a long while. Sorry for any mistakes or errors, as if said, it’s been a long while and I sort of forgot where I was going with this storyline without having to watch season 2 over. Plus, I also just took what you guys were saying and started at the beginning of the season where Manny shows up. I wanted to get there quickly as well. Most of my fics for characters do follow the show/movie they come from because I’m not that creative, so spare me please. I also have to come up with ideas for just some one one one time between him and the reader, if you guys want to see anything in particular let me know. Also, this is just a little some to hold you guys over for the time being. I plan on editing t this afternoon little before the other chapters come out. I wrote this sleep deprived.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭! - 5,895

“Yurrr!! What it do Camera Crew?” Ava beamed as she opened the doors for the infamous camera crew. “Welcome back to the house that Ava built. It’s been a while.” She grinned.

“It’s not like they’ve missed anything,” Naoya said in a monotone as she came out of the office with papers in her hands. She then flashed them a small, but genuine, smile. “Nice seeing you though.” She said softly.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Melisa said as she got into step with them. “What’s it’s been? Like, five months? How you doin'?” She grinned.

Gregory then came out of his classroom, seeing his fellow coworkers and the new and improved camera crew. “Oh, what’s up? We still doing this?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Naoya and Ava answered, although their tones varied.

The cameraman then turned around at the sound of excited giggles from afar, catching Jacob beam at the sight of them. “Oh, my God! You guys! Hey!” He cheesed as he jogged up to them, bumping into the cameras. “Oh! Sorry.” He said as he straighter the camera up. “Um, wow. You got new equipment. Look, I don’t wanna say I told you so, but—.”

“I will!” Naoya said, pushing her friend so she could be in view. “You should’ve listened to me and Jacob when we said to make a right on 30th street instead of a left that night.” She said, squinting at them with a point before walking away. Ava nodded in agreement.

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“You want me to tell you what happened to you?” Ava asked the person behind the camera confused. “Oh, right. Tell the people.” She said before her usual grin spread across her face. “So, they got robbed.” She stated bluntly. “Because they thought it’d be cute to walk around West Philly at night with all this camera equipment. Hell, I’d have robbed you if I was there.” She told them. “Anyway, here we are, five months later because that’s how long it takes for three people with art degrees to save up for new cameras. Welcome back! It’s Career Day today.” She finished enthusiastically before it all dropped within a second. “Unfortunately.”

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“Why would you not listen to someone from Philly when they say don’t do stupid shit in the city?” Naoya asked, looking at the people behind the camera. “We tried to tell you and look what happened. You’re lucky you weren’t held at gunpoint.” She said as she crossed her arms. She paused, looking at the face of the camera crew. “You were held at gunpoint? Oh…” She cringed. “Why the hell did you come back? Are you getting cut a check? Because it must be good.” She stated. “And if you are I want in, I don’t care how much money you think I have.” She said.

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The camera crew then caught the teachers walking into the library as they all waited for some meeting by the district. Naoya took her seat in front of Ava, flashing a confused look at the other when she saw the glasses on the woman’s face.

“Ava!” Barbra yelled, spooking the woman awake. “Not planning on being conscious for Career Day?”

“This is a district initiative. They can handle it.” She frowned, relaxing back into her seat with those glasses still on. “Anyone else feels like the people from the district have been more annoying than usual?”

“They’re not all bad.” Barbra waved her off.

“I think they’re cool.” Jacob chimed in from the other table. Naoya looked back at him, squinting. “Stay at your own table.” She told him, causing Jacob to frown at her in confusion, even though he didn’t take it to heart.

“I actually like them this year.” Gregory chimed in.

“You too,” Naoya said again.

“Shocking,” Melissa said, giving the man a knowing look that he tried to avoid.

“I don’t know, I feel like they’ve been unequivocally and universally worse than they’ve ever been. From unhelpful to unbearable.” Evan complained.

“Wow, what big words for you Ava.” Naoya jutted with an evil smile, turning away before she could see the woman lift her glasses to give her a dirty look. Naoya just continued to smile, looking into the camera even though she could feel the hard gaze on her back.

“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Janine grinned as she walked into the room with her district coworker behind her. Naoya smirked as she looked her up and down, slightly nodding her head at a chipper and well-dressed Janine. Her eyes then caught a familiar pair behind the short woman, the man smiling at the woman sitting before him. Noaya flashed him a quick smile, causing his to grow as they stared at one another. She tilted her head, looking up at him as he leaned against his weight against the table behind him.

“Hey.” He mouthed to her, not taking his eyes away from her.

“Hi.” Naoya cheesed, lighting biting her bottom lip as she looked into his warm gaze.

“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Ava mocked from behind her, then received a tap from Barb. Janine smiled, seeing the camera crew was back.

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“So, yeah, I work for the school district now.” She beamed. “You guys missed a lot.”

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𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫…

Janine gave the camera a quick smile and wave as she walked into the auditorium, moving to find a spot in the chairs lined up. She chose to sit in one of the empty spots next to Gregory, who was behind Naoya, who was across from Jacob.

“Left for right?” The man asked.

“Uh, left.” She answered before taking the seat.

“Good choice.” Gregory grinned.

“Thank you,” Janine said. Naoya frowned, raising her eyes from the handbook in her lap and making eye contact with the cameras a few feet away. She didn’t move her head, not wanting to be obvious, but her face showed enough.

“Girl this development day has me developing a migraine.” Barbra groaned from her seat next to Melissa, who was popping a pill into her mouth before downing water in her cup. The pair sat in front of Jacob.

“Let me have one of those aspirins, please,” Barbra asked, holding out her hand.

“It’s a sleeping pill,” Melissa said. “Wake me if there’s a fire, a tornado, or a volcanic eruption.” She sighed. “I know that’s right,” Naoya mumbled to herself, not looking up from her papers.

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“What?” She asked with a shrug. “I told you guys I hear and know everything. I’m nosy, okay? That’s isn’t a crime.” It was silent for a moment before the woman gave the person a confused look. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?” She asked as she lifted her hands to her face.

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“Good day to the fine teachers of Abbott Elementary,” Ava said into the microphone. The majority of the teachers in the room then turned to look at Gregory and Naoya, who was shocked by the odd attention she’s been getting as of late. The pair sat there awkwardly, Naoya more so trying to convince herself that they couldn’t be staring at her.

“What?” Ava asked them.

“No comment about Gregory being “F I O N, fine?” Melissa asked.

“Or whatever’s different about Noaya that’s making her more attractive this year.” Jacob chimed in, causing everyone to look his way, but he was too busy staring at his friend across from him. Naoya gave the man a confused and slightly disturbed look. “Aren’t you gay?” She asked him

“I’m starting to question it.” He said, making her eyes widen and look away from him.

“No, Mr.Hill and Ms.Schemmenti.” Ava chimed back in a little aggressively. “I was speaking to everyone. But since all eyes are on them, uh, Mr.Eddie would you mind reading from the first paragraph of your immaculately assembled binder?” She said a polite smile on her face. If Naoya wasn’t so disturbed, she’d frown her the woman’s behavior, but she couldn’t help but spiral inwardly due to the way everyone was acting.

“Sexily?” Gregory asked unsurely.

“Excuse me?” Ava asked. “That’s is not only suggestive but highly inappropriate in front of our company,” Ava said before gesturing over to the trio that stood at the other end of the stage. Naoya’s eyes jumped to them, eyeing the tall man in the sweater for a brief moment, who just so happened to already be glancing her way. At the newfound attention, the man called his throat before speaking, looking away from the woman. “Uh, hi. Hi, everybody.” He said as she made his way into the center of the over to the podium for the microphone. “We’re from the school district. Principe Colman invited us to come, observe, and collaborate with you all on this Development Day.” He said.

Naoya slightly tilted her head as she analyzed the man, admiring his obvious strive appearance.

“Yes!” Ava said in the mic. “The importance of collaboration is one of the many things I learned while I was matriculating at Cambridge.” She boasted. Naoya gave the camera a deadpanned look.

“We’re super excited to be here.” The man spoke again. “On behalf of the new superintendent, John Reynolds. I’m Manny. That’s my dream team over there.” He gestured to the pair from his original position. “That’s Emily. That’s Simon. And we don’t come empty-handed. We’ve come with some iPads and SMART boards for your classrooms, loaded with learning apps.” He explained, causing the teachers to clap. Naoya just sat there though, her hands clasped over her crossed legs with a disinterested look on her face.

“New and improved model,” Melissa stated as she leaned closer to Barbra.

“Same old engines.” The other woman said. “These people aren’t going to change a blessed thing, except how many bodies are in the room.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you around.” Manny finished with a grin, his eyes trailing back to Naoya. She sat there, face blank as she looked the man up and down. Manny smirked at that, before looking away as he made his way back to his team.

“Gregory, we still need you to read from section ‘A’., there in your binder,” Ava stated.

Gregory stood from his seat, binder in hand. “ ‘Section A. Welcome back.’ That’s concluded section ‘A’.” He said before closing the booklet.

“Thank you, Mr.Eddie. You may be seated.” There was light applause after that, most uninterested or highly confused.

Softly, as if she wasn’t away she was in front of a mic, Ava began to read from her notes. “As the teacher, if they have any ideas from over the summer they’d like to implement. Try to make it fun.” She said to herself. She sighed before moving away from the podium. She struggled for a bit before doing a small dance, asking the question over again. “Does anyone have any ideas from over the summer that they’d like to implement?”

Janine raised her hands.

“Janine!” Ava said. “One of our most…teachers at Abbott.”

“So I was thinking over the summer while I was spending time with myself and just thinking about, like, what really led me to this point in my life.” She began.

Melissa yawned. “Get to the point.” She groaned with her head back.

“Get to the point, Janine,” Barbra said.

“Yeah, okay. So, a Career Day?” Janine suggested. “We should do career day at the school because I checked and we haven’t had one since the only jobs for women were typists, moms, and wet nurses.” She explained. “I think it’s a great way for the kids to see all of the amazing jobs they can have. And that’s it. That’s my idea. I’m done. Career Day.” She quickly finished before taking her seat. Naoya nodded, turning in her seat to look at the girl.

“That was an amazing idea, Neen.” She said, causing the shorter woman to smile. Naoya nodded as she looked at her friend for a while longer. “How much time did you spend alone, exactly?” She asked, causing Janine's smile to slightly drop. Before she could answer, Naoya waved her off. “It doesn’t matter, I was alone too.” She said, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I’m gonna say my idea now.” She said before Janine or Gregory, who was listening, could comment on anything.

She raised her hand, catching Ava’s attention, as well as the people on the stage. “Yes, Miss Lovell.” She said. Naoya jerked her head back at Ava’s use of her professional name before she just shook her head at it. “I was thinking of a librarian.” She said. “A better library program, actually. New books, more books, better books. Just an improvement of that old wretched system that keeps losing the books I put in there.” She said through a strained smile at the thought of all the books she’d donated, only for them to end up missing. Manny looked the woman up and down from his place on the stage, watching the way the sun seemed to shine through the room only for her, dressed in fun colors and her quirky glasses.

“I could name a plethora of reasons those Ideas won’t work.” Ava began, barely listening to their suggestions. “Scheduling, previous failed attempts, that’s the fact that it’s was your ideas.” She said, gesturing between the two. Naoya jerked her head back at the woman’s audacity while Janine tried to save herself.

“Right, but there is a way—.”

“But I’m just gonna go ahead and say no and save yourself the embarrassment.” Ava cut in. Janine leaned back in her seat while Naoya raised her middle finger at the woman on stage, not caring for the guests who were visiting the school.

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“I’m never suggesting anything again.” She hissed as she leaned against the lockers. “It’s one thing to try and embarrass me in front of my coworkers who already live pathetic lives and make less money than me. It’s another to do it in front of sexy company. She’s gonna pay one way or another.”

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Naoya was walking next to Janine, the shorter woman looking her friend up and down. “There is something different about you that I just can’t put my finger on.” She said skeptically, causing Naoya to slightly frown at her. “You are glowing though.” She shrugged.

Before Naoya could speak on the matter, they were intercepted by the voice. “Hey, Janine. Ms.Lovell.” They said, causing the girl to turn around. “I’m Manny, which I said up there.” He stumped as she held out his hand. Janie shook his first before he moved into Naoya. The man hiked as he looked her in the eye, Naoya’s face blank as she placed her hand into his, giving his large hand a firm shake.

“You can call me Naoya.” She said with a small smile. She couldn’t help it. She tried to stay stoic in front of the man but there was something about him that just made her all giddy and gooey inside, especially now that they were up close and she felt his skin on hers, even if it was a simple handshake.

“Naoya.” He tested the name on his tongue as he continued to look her in the eye, both parties loving the way it sounded. “I love that.” He said until he was aware of what he said. And also aware that his hand was still in hers. “Name. I love that name. It’s cool and different.” He said, before pulling his hand away. Noaya nodded, letting out a small huff of a laugh. “Thanks.” She said, placing her hand behind her back. Janine’s eyes snapped to the cameras near them, slightly shocked written onto her features.

“Uh, I just wanted to say, that, uh, Career Day and the Library Program sounded good.” He began. “They’re good ideas and I would love to hear more.”

“Thank you!” Janine said. “So you guys are new at the district?” She asked.

“Yep. Just started over the summer. Loving it so far.” He explained, looking between the two. “Feel like we’re going to make a lot of positive changes and do what the last administration didn’t. Nobody embezzling funds in my watch.” He joked, causing Naoya to giggle. Janie was taken aback, looking at her and the cameras at Naoya's unusual behavior. “Funny.” The taller woman simply stated before beginning to make her way out of the auditorium.

“Oh, hey.” Manny began again, stopping her while Janine stayed stationary. “Actually one of the things we wanted to do today was shadow some teachers. Are you two up for it?” He asked, looking between them. Naoya glanced at Janine, who shrugged, before looking back at Manny and doing the same. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna be setting up my classroom.” She said.

“Same,” Janine stated.

“Exciting!” Manny grinned.

Naoya nodded, a fond smile on her face. “It’s is exciting. I’m a pretty creative and free spirit.” She grinned. “Yeah? Well, I’m just gonna grab my coworkers.” He grinned. “They're talking to Principle Coleman over there. You guys are so lucky you have such a good principle.” He said. Janine awkwardly smiled while Naoya just pursed her lips.

“Yeah.” Janie agreed, nodding as the man walked away.

Noaya watched him with a small smirk before sighing and twirling around, her straightend hair flowing behind her. Janine squinted as she watched the woman practically skip away in glee, Manny not too far behind.

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“That’s what it is!” Janine grinned primal at the cameras. “She’s not wearing her contacts.” She grinned proudly. It didn’t last long though, slightly dropping as she looked at the camera, thinking it over more.

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“No,” Naoya said to the camera, an almost offended look on her face. “I wear my glasses almost all the time. Granted, these are new frames, but why the hell? These people know nothing about me.”

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“So, where’d you teach before picturing to the school district?” Noaya asked as She, Janine, Manny, and his crew walked to their classrooms.

“I didn’t, actually.” Manny averted sheepishly. Janine flashed a look to the camera while Naoya hummed in acknowledgment with a purse of her lips. “But I grew up here, though.” He quickly added. “My first-hand experience is more from when I was a student in the area.” He said as Janine led them into her room.

“Oh, alright.” The shorter woman nodded. “Well, you know, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to teach at Abbott.” She said. “Because I was a student in the area, as well, so…” She shrugged. “This is my room.” She said to them.

“What are you making here?” Emily asked, gesturing to the table where a tone of colored paper and glue was laid out.

“Oh, A ‘Welcome Back’ sign for the kids. Naoya was helping me paint.” She grinned, gesturing over to the woman next to her. “We’re gonna decorate it together so that everyone feels included. I try to implement a lot of color. I wanted to go with blue because that inspires focus.” She began to explain.

“And calm, which is so important for primary classes.” Manny chimed in. “I read about that in Chalkbeat.” He grinned. Naoya tilted her head at that, flashing the camera a Quick Look as she glanced between the two.

“You read Chalkbeat?” Janine asked, a smile starting to spread across her face.

“Mm-hmm.” Manny hummed.

“I basically live in the comment section, so…” She chortled.

“Oh, my God. Are you @JTeaguee215?” He asked as he stepped sideward a little, an excited grin on his face. “Yes!” Janine said enthusiastically. Naoya softly nodded her head, glancing at the camera when it tried to catch her tense facial expression at the exchange.

“And @JTeagues267 when I wanna spice up the discourse.” She continued.

“Ms.Teagues, I’m @MannyFromTheBlock. I’m always using this emoji.” He said before doing a salute. Janie gaped at him in shock. “That’s you!”

“That’s me.” He grinned.

“I love your comments,” Janine stated with a grin.

“I love your comments.” He smiled back.

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“Fuck!” She yelled in the hallway, turning away from the cameras as she her fist j to the lockers, making a loud sound.

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Janine continued onto fine before glancing at Naoya, who had taken several steps back and looked to be on her way out of the room. When the other woman saw her looking, she flashed a tight smile before looking away. Janine eyes subtly squinted in confusion before she continued. “Anyways.” She began, brushing the interaction off. “Naoya wanted to paint the walls blue last year, but you guys—the district—didn’t like the idea of pinging walls, so…” She shrugged, explaining for the other woman.

“What!? Why not? That’s is so good.” Manny responded, his eyes sifting to the distant figure of the other woman. “I think that’s exactly an idea that we could and should implement.” He said softly, examining her awkward grin. The woman just nodded, rubbing the back of her neck while Janine glanced at the cameras at the tension hiking within the room.

“It’s a low-stakes, high-reward improvement,” Emily stated, glancing Naoya’s way.

“Yes. Let’s revise that.” Simone grinned. Janine pursed her lips, making a funny face as she looked away from them. The trio looked at the woman funny. “Are you okay?” Simone asked.

“Yeah,” Janine asked. “Just a lot of positive reinforcement. I usually only get that from Ms.Love back here.” She awkwardly chuckled, pointing to the woman next—behind—her. That caused all of their eyes to drift to the woman, who seemed dither than she was before. She stood by the other door, her hands stuffed in her pockets now that eyes were on her while she was almost away from them.

“Are you okay?” Janine asked, looking at the woman confused, her mood a complete flip from earlier.

“No,” Naoya said simply before twirling around and skipping to her room. Janine paused, glancing back at the trio as they all watched the woman leave, Manny with a small smile on his face. “She’s a wonderful woman.” She began, stealing out of the door. “A soft chocolate chunk cookie with crispy edges. Her words not mind, they’re in her Twitter bio.” She said, trying to fill the air with something. The trio nodded at that. Janine lightly cleared her throat before making her way to Naoya’s room. “Let’s follow her, shall we.” She said softly, the others trailing behind her.

They made it to her door, looking into the classroom as Naoya rearranged the comfy furniture she had the way she wanted it.

“Wow.” Manny sighed from the door before making his way into the room. Naoya turned at the voice to see the group, said the man looking around as he trailed in.

“This is really nice.” He said softly before letting his eyes fall on her.

Naoya’s face held a small grin as she nodded. “Thank you. I try.” She shrugged.

“It’s cozy in here.” Emily grinned as she made her way around the different sections.

Noaya's eyes snapped over to her as she pushed a small couch over to the rug she had laid out in between the bookshelves. “Yeah, I try to keep it that way.” She said, pairing the seat. “I hate—The kids hate fluorescent lighting.” She chuckled nervously, shooting them a quick look. “But some do come on when it’s instruction time.” She added to save her ass.

Manny grinned at her as he nodded his head. Janie looked between them with a small smile before glancing at the watching cameras, her expression dropping.

“That’s actually really important.” He began. “Such lightening for long hours does nothing for brain stimulation.” He said. Noaya glanced at him, lightly nodding. “Yeah, it actually has the opposite effect. Weakens memory retention causes migraines” She said. Manny hummed, looking at her. “It’s why they have them in prisons.” She added, quickly turning away from them and then moving over to a box that sat on a table. Manny’s eyes tricker after her, not wasting time before stepping closer as he watched her.

“What’s this section for?” Simone asked, watching as the woman set a box on the ground in front of an empty shelf, flanked by small bookshelves on either side. “Oh, this is my relaxation saltation.” Naoya grinned as she lifted the clear top of the record player, and then reached down to pull out a vinyl from the box. “Well, that’s what it is now.” She said as she placed the Minnie Riperton record onto the player. “It used to be where I taught the kids music. As best I could though. We didn’t have a music teacher here for a while.” She said sheepishly, glancing at them. “Now it’s called the relaxation station. The kids like coming over and picking out their songs. It’s a reward for good behavior.” She shrugged before pressing the machine on, the classroom then being filled with the soft sound of Les Fleurs by Minne Riperton.

“Wow,” Manny said softly, not taking his eye off the woman. “That’s amazing.” He said, this team nodding as they looked around the comfy section. “Naoya glanced at him, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you.” She said softly. They stayed each other in the eye for what felt like forever before the woman gulped and looked away from him, trying to find something to occupy herself. She looked down, her eyes going to the box of records she needed to put away. She squatted as she began unloading them into the section at the bottom of the shelf. She handled the old-school records with care, not wanting to damage the already torn covering and hurt the disc.

Manny couldn’t help but watch with a fond look in his eye, the colorful woman in her own world as she worked, her lips softly singing the song playing in the background.

“What’s this on the board?” Emily asked from the other side of the room, catching their attention. Naoya had just finished when she stood up, rubbing her hands against her jeans. She quickly glanced at Manny, who was already looking at her, before her eyes trailed to the questioning woman near the board, who pointed at the Kanji.

“Oh, those are just words I she a lot so I put Kanji next to them so the kids become familiar.” She said as she walked closer. “We also didn’t have a language teacher here for a while so…” She tried off with a shrug. “I was teaching them the Spanish I learned from the bodega guy growing up but he wasn’t saying anything children should be.” She grinned tensely at them. “Now I just inform them on Japanese when we have free time or if they’re curious, which they usually are.”

“Why Japanese?” Simon asked. Naoya glanced between all of them, a small smile on her face.

“I’m Japanese.” She said with a small smile. “It’s my first language. My mom was a nurse and an English teacher over there for a long time.” She sighed. The other hummed, surprised at the new revelation while Manny admired the woman.

“My mother was a teacher as well.” He said, causing the woman to look his way. “It’s part of the reason why I work at the district now.” He said softly. Noaya started at him, mother of the faces faltering from their soft expressions. She just nodded at what he said. Because she could speak, as if she was going to, Janine spoke up.

“What’s this one mean?” The woman asked, pointing at the unfamiliar Kanji on the board.

“Oh, it’s just love.” She shrugged. “I put it on the board at the beginning of each year because if I was a teacher in Japan, that would be my name.” She said. “Sensei Ai or Ai-aan.” She stated in Japanese, ignoring the impressed looks she gathered from the crew as she continued to explain. “Even though Ai is the general term of love and affection.” She shrugged.

“That is so amazing,” Simon said with a proud grin, looking at the woman. “There is such a diversity of cultures and learning in this classroom. What grade do you teach?” He asked. Naoya was slightly taken aback by his apparent enthusiasm, looking at the man with a small smile. “Fourth grade.” She said.

“Mhm, that’s when all the magic starts to happen.” He said, causing Naoya to nod. Manny glanced between the two, his smile slightly strained as he watched them interact.

“Yeah,” Naoya said. “There is a significant development in their cognitive abilities. The children become more logical and critical thinkers, alongside increased independence, stronger social connections with peers, and a growing awareness of social hierarchies, often navigating feelings like peer pressure and the desire to fit in. They also start thinking more about abstract ideas, and not just about things they can observe.” She explained. Everyone in the room looked at the woman in shock, taking in the information she just dumped on them.

“I majored in Psychology for Human Growth and Development. I was gonna be a children’s therapist but I realized my heart can’t really handle all that.” She said. Some hummed with the other nodded at the woman.

“Well, aren’t you the gift that just keeps on giving? Full of unexpected but pleasant surprises.” Simone said, grinning at the woman. Naoya laughed, waving him off before turning to find something else to do in her class. Manny’s eyes trailed after hard, glancing between her and his coworker.

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Noaya was walking down the hall, talking to Gregory when Janine came out of her classroom, spotting the two. “Oh, hey! Fancy seeing you here.” She joked, speaking to Gregory. “Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing to the boxes the pair held.

“Just bringing the books in.” The man said. “Oh, there is a ten-for-ten sale at Nichols Schola Supplies, by the way.” He said while Noaya nodded.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Janine said, catching the two off guard.

“What the hell?” Noaya stated in shock.

“Trying out cursing. Still getting the hang of it.” Janine sighed, seeing their confused and shocked faces. “No was Baltimore?” She quickly tried to change the subject. Noaya sighed, sensing where the conversation was going, and moved to carry the box she held in Gregory’s classroom.

“It was so flat!” Was the first thing she heard from Gregory when she exited the class after luring the box down. She cried in confusion, looking at the cameras before making her way over to the pair.

“What’s you do over the break?” Gregory asked her before glancing over when Naoya came closer, squinting at her. “You too, now that I’m thinking about it.” He said.

“I just spent a lot of time with myself,” Janine answered. “And it was good for me. I feel, sure, centered, good.” She listed with a content smile. “Oh, Jacob, Noaya, Erika and I started going out to brunch together. We’re calling ourselves the Brunch Bunch.” She joked.

“Why not just the Brunch Bunch?” Gregory asked.

“I thought it was just the Brunch Bunch? That’s why I named the group chat.” Naoya said, her brows furrowed.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Janine said. Naoya pursed her lips while Gregory let out a tense exhale, Janine, looked between the two.

“It’s just not working for me, is it?” Janine asked.

“Not quite there,” Gregory said.

“Fuck, no.” Noaya scoffed. Janine snapped her fingers, pointing at the woman. “See, that sounds so much better.” She said. Noaya cocky shrugged before her eyes caught a finger coming up behind Janine.

“Hey,” Manny said. “Teacher of the Year. Gregory Eddie.” He said in his odd accent that she couldn’t help but find endearing. “I heard about that garden you made out front. Really cool, man.” He said.

“Oh! Thanks.” Gregory said. “I like to do it and it makes the school and the street look nice.” He explained with a small shrug.

“Sure does,” Manny said before looking between the two women. “Uh, Ms.Lovell, Ms.Teauges, could I speak to you two for a quick second? Sorry to interrupt.” He said to Gregory. Janine nodded. “Oh, yeah. All good. And you can call me Janine.” She said as she led the man into her room. Gregory and Noaya shared a look before they glanced at the cameras. They then went their separate ways, her into Janine’s class while he went into his own.

“Well, uh, Janine.” Manny begun. “I was talking with the other from the school district. And you two seem to have a ton of great ideas.” Manny complimented, looking between the pair. Janine smiled proudly at him while Noaya shrugged softly.

“There’s this fellowship—.”He started again. “The Robeson Fellowship at the district. We want somebody with in-field experience to come to enhance what the district can do to make schools as efficient as possible.” He explained.

“That sounds like a great opportunity,” Janine said. “I'm pretty sure I can help you find somebody for that.” She stated, glancing at the woman next to her.

“Well, no, I had one of you in mind for it,” Manny said, glancing between the two. Noaya’s eyes widened, immediately shook her head. “Oh! That’s amazing but.” She chicken’s nervously and in shock. “I can’t.” She sighed, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t.

“Yeah.” Janine echoed. “I’m flattered but, you know, the summer is when I get a little bit of a break away from school.” She said, causing Noaya to point over at her in agreement.

“This would be doing the school year,” Manny stated.

“But that’s when we’re doing the schooling,” Noaya stated, brows furrowed as she gestured to her class.

“Yes, well, a sub would take over your class. While you’re with us for your duration of the fellowship.” He said. Naoya’s brows raised as she nodded at his words, taking them in. Janine, on the other hand, scoffed out a chuckle. “Sorry, but no.” She said. “I can’t imagine being away from my students, so… I’m flattered but, no, thank you.” She said.

Manny grinned, letting out a small chuckle. “Okay, alright.” He said before he then turned to Naoya, who had her hand behind her back. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in what the man was saying. “Uh, I’ll think it over.” She said with a nervous smile. “I would have to plan so much and, you know, I only have so many ideas.” She shrugged.

“And I bet they’re all great,” Manny told her, his voice very sure of himself as he looked at the woman. Noaya nodded her head, offering him a small smile. “Okay.” She said. Manny nodded before moving his way out of the room. He was on his way out of the room before he turned around, looking between the two.

“Just give it some real thought, okay?” He said, his eyes mainly on Noaya. “You can help make some real change around here. Creative and culturally diverse ideas—.”His eye then trailed to Janine. “And painted walls are just the start.” He gave Noaya another smile, showing his there before making his way out of the room.

Once he was away Noaya sighed, throwing her head back. “I’m gonna go complain to Jacob.” She sighed before exiting the room to make her way upstairs.

𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐌𝐬.𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥

Pairings- Black!OC x Abbott Elementary Cast, later Black!OC x Manny (Can be read as x Reader though!)

Summary- S1E1-Light Bulb with Naoya Lovel

Warnings- Swearing, kids, mixed race reader( those aren't warnings really, just what to expect)

Jazzie'sNotes!- let me know what you guys think!! I've been really obsessed with Abbott Elementary recently and I'm contemplating if I want to write S1&S2 just to get to the Manny season. I want to get there fast but I know what won't be possible with two seasons worth of writing. Let me know what you guys think I should do.

Word Count- 5,680

“Ten seconds!” Jacob yelled over his shoulder at the people in the room. Melissa and Barbra rushed over to the sitting area in front of the television that played the action news. Naoya sitting the opposite of them on the small couch.

“Oh, we love Action News! Get in early just to watch it.” Melissa said to the cameras. “It just really calms you down after wanting to take a wrench to someone's side mirror in traffic.” She beamed as if what she said was totally normal.

“But the Philadelphia region continues to suffer, temperature in the mid-90s with a heat index approaching 100…” The television said as they all sat and watched.

“Now I’m a proud married Christian woman and I love my husband. But there’s something about that Jim Gardner.” Barba gushed to the cameras. “That non-regional diction.” The woman was practically blushing just at the thought of the man.

“It is so important to support and acknowledge local journalism, okay?” Jacob started. “There’s no agenda here. This is—This is one going, in the streets, powerful stuff.” He explained seriously.

“I get in early just to see my aunt Magnolia on the screen. She’s a news anchor and I like telling her what I like and dislike about her outfits every morning.” Naoya nodded nonchalantly.

“Wouldn’t want to see that dog in traffic.” Jim Fardner said as they all laughed while watching a little Pomeranian dog drive a toy car.

“Yes, Jim.” Barbra agreed, not seeing the confused look Noaya gave her from the side.

“I like the news because that’s when I can say whatever I want and nobody asks any questions.” Mr.Johnson told the cameras with a smirk.

“I’m taking a personal day.” The old man said as he entered the room, looking at the backs of everyone’s heads as they continued to watch the morning news. “Going fishing with my friends. Anyways, toilet papers in the closet.” He said before walking out.

“I hear him.” Naoya nodded, giving the people behind the camera a small smile. “I hear everything. Plus he is a hilarious old man and I wanna know all his secrets. I am this close to cracking him.” She said with an evil smirk making its way into her face as she lined her fingers together to indicate a small amount.

“I saw Jim Gardner once. At the Chipotle.” Barbra smiled bashfully, not taking her eyes away from the television. “Ooh, he orders a bowl so handsomely.” She gushed. Naoya gave the older woman another look, this time more concern than confusion.

It was only a moment later that Jacob was going through the break room fridge, poking around for something. “Who’s branzino is this?” He asked, holding the fish dish in his hands. “This is a very powerfully smelling fish to put in a shared fridge.” The boy complained as politely as he could, closing the ice box with a disgusted look on his face.

“Don’t touch it,” Melissa said looking up from her phone. “I’m making it right at my cousin Annette’s.” She made her way over to have a seat in her usual spot next to Barb. “She thinks she’s the best cook in the family. I’m gonna show her in a non-threatening way. Imma look cuter than her too.” She smirked.

“I have a distant cousin named Annette,” Naoya said, finishing up the delicious breakfast sandwich that she had every morning. “She was psychotic though, used to put poison in the condiments at restaurants.” The younger woman stated, looking off in thought as the rest stared at her in disbelief. “I haven’t seen her in ages. Don’t want to either, she was butt ugly.” She then took a sip of her orange juice.

Just as she finished, Janine walked into the room, putting her bag down on the table in front of Melissa and Barbra. “Guys, the lights in the back hallways have been out for weeks.”

“Thank you for the update,” Melissa said as she applied more makeup.

“What are you wearing?” Barbra asked, looking her up and down.

“And we need to do something about it. Okay?” The short woman tried to sound demanding but it didn’t come off that way. “Uh, Melina, from your class.” She started, pointing at Melissa. “Yeah, she was afraid to come to school this morning. Said it looked like “The Shining.” And I don’t even get how she knows that reference.”

“She loves “The Shining,” Melissa stated.

“It’s a classic movie.” Jacob chimed in.

The camera panes Naoya’s way, who looks at them at their movements. ‘Never seen it.’ She mouthed with a shrug of her shoulders.

“This isn’t okay, alright?” Janine stressed. “And I already talked to Mr.Johnson and he said that there isn’t anything he can do.

“What do you want us to do about it?” Barbra asked the girl tiredly.

“I mean, it can’t be hard. It’s just screwing in a few new bulbs.” The small woman stated.

“Janine, just worry about what can be controlled.” Barbra cut her off.

“Exactly.” Melissa agreed. “All we can do on a hot day like this is our own jobs, anyway.”

“I know what’s right,” Ava said as she barged into the room and made her way over to the coffee machine. “Why is it February and hotter than the devil’s booty hole outside?” She asked.

“Climate Change.” Jacob and Naoya said at the same time, causing them to point at one another in recognition while Ava shot both of them a tired look. “We are living in the middle of its disastrous effects. The permafrost in Russia—” He was about to rant before Ava cut him off.

“Nerd.” The woman said between coughs, which sounded more like a laugh. Naoya rolled her eyes while Jacob just turned back to what he was doing.

“Ava.” Janine started, walking up to the woman who was still laughing from her childish joke. “Can someone from the city come and check on the back hallway lights?”

“Girl, no.” The woman answered, her usual judgmental look on her face. “Do I look like the Kool-Aid man?” She asked, halving around the room. Her eyes stopped on Naoya, who raised her eyebrows in question. “Don’t answer that.” She pointed at the woman, who just shrugged it off. “I don’t have enough juice to manipulate the inner workings of city hall.” The principal continued, looking back at Janine and scoffing before making her way out. “They’ll probably come in the summer.” She said as the bell rang.

“I’m the summer?” Janine asked after doing a double take at her words. But the woman was long gone and the others were making their way out of the room to their classes.

“Tough break. Want some egg white bites?” Jacob asked, easing closer to Janine and holding out a plate. The solemn woman looked up at him with a new determination. “No. I don’t have time to eat.” She said before walking out. Jacob was mid-bite when he turned and faced Naoya, who was putting her bag over her shoulder. And before the man could even speak, the woman stopped him. “No, I don’t want your peasant food, Jacob. It’s insulting that you would ask someone as cultured as myself such a question.” She started before strutting out of the break room. Jacob stood there in disbelief.

“It’s just egg white bites, you put them in the microwave.”

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“Janine, what on earth are you doing on that thing?” Naoya asked as she rushed down the hall to the smaller woman who stood on a ladder. She had just come from using the restroom and leaving a class of a bunch of nine to ten-year-olds unattended for even a few seconds could lead to chaos. She didn’t know that chaos would be the grown woman who was the height of a nine to ten-year-old.

“I’m going to fix this broken light.” The woman said determinedly, only a step above the floor in the heightening tool. Naoya made it next to her, seeing the woman wasn’t doing much movement. She placed her hands on her hips, a smug look on her face. “Janine, you are not meant to go to those heights. God gave you your stature for a reason. Plus you’re terrified.”

“I am not terrified.” The woman said, shooting a glance at her. At that, Naoya gave her a knowing look before ushering the woman to go ahead. Janine nodded and looked back at the matter, fear gripping her. She gulped looking back at Naoya. “Okay, I am terrified but I’m gonna do it because I’m on a mission.” She said before carefully making her way up the ladder.

“If this backfires, you buy my dinner,” Naoya asked, after checking in on her classroom through the glass door, seeing them still doing their reading time. At that, Janine gave a confused look to the air, since she was too scared to look down. “Uh, no. This bet is not in my face, at all.”

“Well, at least have some faith in yourself, goodness gracious.”

At that, Janine continued, taking the cover off the lights and continuing to tweak at the wires. “See, look at this. It was just a loose wire.” The woman said, briefly glancing down at the people below her. She then connected the wire with another one, watching as the light stopped flickering. But it didn’t stop for long, the bulbs brightening before bursting in her face.

“Oh!” The woman screamed as she ducked:

“Janine!” Naoya yelled from below her, hosing her arms out in case the woman fell. Instantly, all the rooms were filled with the sounds of confusion and discomfort. The doors opened as the teachers exited.

“Oh, God! Can someone please help me down?” Janine asked, her voice shaking from the fear of the height she was at and the bulb exploding before her.

“And why would we do that since you caused this situation?” Melissa asked as she propped her door open.

“Okay, I didn’t know doing this would cause all the power to go out.” Janie tried to justify, still clutching onto the ladder.

“Well, the power is not all out,” Barbra stated. “It’s on in some places and off in others.”

“It’s off in my room,” Gregory said.

“On in the gym.” The coach said tiredly, slugging up to the group.

“Yeah, it’s off in my room,” Melissa spoke back up. “Thank God we got the A/C or we’d all be meltin’ already.”

“Okay, well before anyone freaks out, the best thing to do in these situations is just stay calm and—” Naoya started as she looked around the group but was silenced by the frantic voice of their terrible and terrified principal.

“Okay! This is it, y'all! The End Times!” The woman said as she rounded the corner in a hurry, a light strapped to her head. “It’s three months early, but it’s happening!” She said, as she closed in on them, giving the closest thing to her a tousle, which happened to be the very thing that was holding Janine up.

“Aah, don’t shake the ladder.” The smaller woman yelled from up top.

“Gregory is the only person that can stay in my bunker, so stop asking.” The crazed principal continued. Naoya’s head jerked back at her words, shocked at the woman’s blatant advancements that were harassment at this point.

“Ava,” Barbra started, holding her arms out in a non-offensive manner to calm the woman. “It is just a partial power outage. Alright, listen up everyone—.”

“Listen to Barbra, y'all!” The doomsday woman yelled, still latched into the latter out of fear.

“Are you kidding me?” Janie asked, clasping at the top of the ladder for support as it shook again.

“This is what we’re gonna do.” Barbra started again. “Everybody without power, please, head to the gym.”

“Head!” Ava chimed in again.

“We will conduct classes there until this is all fixed. It is not ideal—.” She stressed, looking up at the culprit on the ladder. “But it will work.”

“You hear her. Let’s go!” Ava demanded with a nod.

“Guys!” Janie called from the top of the ladder, causing them all to look up at her. “I-I just wanna I-I’m sorry, everybody.” The woman said nervously. “I just thought if I could get up here and get this done then we wouldn’t have to wait and..”

“And look where it landed us, baby girl.” Barbra cut in. “Everybody please head to the gym. We’ve got bigger fish to fry now.”

“Oh, Jesus! My branzino! Everybody out of the way. Out of the way!” Melissa yelled as she sprinted down the hall filled with children.

“Well, if someone can please help me! I feel like I’m one wobble away from death!” Janie begged from where she fluted the top of the ladder. At that, Naoya walked closer, raising her hand to help guide the woman down but was intercepted by Gregory's large arms. The two people glanced at each other, unexpected by the other one's move. Naoya waved her hand, signaling him to help instead. “Thank you,” Jannie said, too spooked to even pay attention to the odd interaction before her. “Okay, give me your hand. Take your time.” Gregory soothed, his large hand latched onto Janine’s. When he was turned away from her, she gave the camera an odd look, scratching the back of her ear. “Whenever you're ready.”

“Okay.” Janine sighed. There was a moment of silence between them all as they waited. “Am I doing it?” Janie asked, just standing there.

“No, honey,” Naoya spoke up, raising an eyebrow at such an odd question.

“Okay, let’s do a count of three.” Janine reiterated, adjusting herself to prepare.

“Okay,” Gregory started. “One, two…three.” He finished and the woman still wasn’t moving. “One more time.” He said.

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“This is all my fault,” Janie said as she looked around the gymnasium at all the students. The shock clock then went off, the constant noise startling Gregory, who paused his class to speak to the woman. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have tried to do the job of a newly graduated DeVry student, but this is okay.” The man sassed, with an awkward smile as she gestured around the room. Melissa was teaching her kids the best she should with something in flashcards, while Barbra was teaching her students to tell time.

Naoya was on the other side of the room, all her students sitting in rows with their eyes closed and taking deep breaths, with her in the front as a group meditation process. She chose this alternative instead of their gym scheduled gym activities, so the kids weren’t accidentally hitting four-year-olds in the head with basketballs.

Janine sighed, going to pick up her phone that pinged. She read the messages she got from Tariq, and that pissed her off even more. Well, it wasn’t helping her attitude for today.

“I made this mess, and I need to fix this.” She said again, looking around at the distressed room of teachers.

“Okay, but fix this how? Gregory asked her. “It seems very outside of your skill set. You should probably just wait for somebody to get to it—.” He tried to reiterate what Barbra had been saying all along and Janine was not having it.

“I don’t want to wait for someone to get to it!” Janine hissed. “You know, our children have needs that deserve to be met. And I’m going to fix this. Nothing is going to get in my way.” She said determined.

“What if you have to climb another ladder?” Gregory finally asked. “Those seem very tricky for you.”

“No.” That was all Janie gave him. “Not today.

Sometime later, the bell rang, signaling to everyone that it was much time.

“Aren’t you going to lunch, Janine?” Melissa asked as she, Barbra, Gregory, and Naoya made their way to the gymnasium doors.

“Uh, no, I’m actually gonna stay and help the lunch ladies with lunch.” The shorter woman tried to find a reasonable excuse.

“The lunch ladies don’t like you, Janine. They never say hello back.” Naoya said, crossing her arms as she looked at the woman across from her. “So, is that what you’re really doing?”

“Yes!” She answered. “And maybe trying to get the lights back on.” She rushed out at the end, hoping no one heard. At that, the two older women groaned.

“Would you give that a rest?” Melissa started. What do you want? To make the whole school blow up?”

“No!” The woman said as she folded her arms. “Plus, I can’t. Luckily the school was built as a bomb shelter in WWII, so…”

“Let it go.” Barbra practically begged the girl before her before she and the rest of the teachers started walking away.

“Okay, I will.” The woman told them, watching them exit. She and Gregory held long eye contact, both knowing the truth deep down. After they were gone, Janine looked back down at her phone, not paying attention to her friends next to her.

“You’re not gonna let it go, are you?” Jacob spoke up.

“No, I’m not gonna let it go, Jacob, okay?” She said, giving the two of them a look. “I need to right my wrongs.”

“Okay, we’ll count me out.” He said, waving her off.

“I never counted you in,” Janine said to him, confused about where he got that from.

“Well, then count me in.” He restated. “Because I don’t have any lunch plans.”

“Okay.” She sighed. She then looked at the woman next to him, her purse on her shoulder. “Weren’t you going to lunch?” She asked.

“You owe me lunch, remember? Your plan backfired.” She reminded the woman from earlier with a shrug. Janine sighed, turning away from them and walking, knowing they would follow. “That’s not how bets work, Naoya. Both people have to agree.”

“That’s how my bets work and you owe me food, woman!”

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“This is just like the one in my apartment, this is going to be easy,” Janine stated as the three of them made their way to the breaker box that was in the custodian closet. “Me and Tariq have to go in that thing like three times a month.” She said them behind her, Jacob holding the flashlight above her head.

“Maybe you should move.” The man suggested.

“Yeah. Tariq says he is “practicing” his credit score.” Janine struggled out and she pushed to get the metal box open. “Apparently 380 isn’t a good—.” She continued to struggle, her words getting lost in her. “Let me try,” Naoya said as she softly nudged the smaller woman out of the way. She gave the box a pull and the thing popped open. She turned and smiled at the two. “I loosened it,” Jannie said, trying to save face.

“Sure, Jan,” Naoya said, going back to looking in the box. “Oh..” she said, looking at the jumbled mess of wires and switches.

“Oh, no,” Janie said, looking at the same thing. “Don’t touch. Not even a little bit.” She read out loud, giving the camera a certain look. “Uh, okay. What’s that say?”

“End of the Road? It’s so hard to say goodbye?” Naoya read out loud, looking at the labels next to some of the switches. “What? Motownphil—These are Boyz II Men songs.” She deadpanned, turning to the rest of them.

“Why?” Jannie asked, moving to stand in front of the box herself.

Jacob chuckled. “It’s ironic ‘cause I’m on Bended Knee.” He joked, giving the camera a brief look. Naoya genuinely snickered while Janie just laughed awkwardly. “Heh. Okay.” She said before going back to the wires. “Oh God, why is that one hot?” Offering them a glance of concern. “Let me try this one.” She said and just a flip of a switch caused a giant spark to erupt, the trio screamed and jumped back to dodge the sparks as best as they could.

“What in the world.”

“What going on?”

Melissa and Barba exclaimed as she entered the hot and dark school building with children running around. “It’s so hot I’m gonna frizz.” Just then, Janie and Jacob came out of the appliance closet, their hair a mess from the static they endured. The three teachers who left for lunch automatically knew who the culprit for everything was.

“Janine! What did you do?!” Barbra asked, quite fed up with the younger woman. “Looking like ‘who shot John.’”

“Barbra, look, I know you told me to let it go, but I couldn’t. Jacob and Naoya—.” At that, she looked back to see where the woman was but she was nowhere to be found. “Jacob helped me open the breaker.” She was quick to accuse.

“I ran away as soon as the sparks started flying. I was looking out for myself.” The woman shrugged as she leaned against the wall next to her. “Plus, I wasn’t about to get yelled at by Barb for this whole mess.”

“It was a chance to support a strong Black woman.” The man next to her breathed out, in a state of shock, quite literally.

“The breaker?!” Melissa asked. “Janine! You can’t do this stuff! What had you come to work today and lose your mind?”

“Look, I—.” She tried to find something to say. “I just have—she gulped—I feel lightheaded.” She said as she swayed.

“Ohh, okay,” Barbra said worriedly as they all closed in on the smaller girl.

“Did you eat today, because I know you didn’t have lunch,” Melissa asked the girl worriedly.

“And you didn’t have any breakfast,” Jacob stated, his tone showing his concern for the woman’s wellbeing. Janine couldn’t even say anything, her balance was off and her mind was delirious.

“Okay, we’re losing her,” Melissa yelled, easing up on the girl. “Do I have your consent to slap you?” At that, Janine fell backward into Gregory’s arms just as Ava and Naoya rounded the corner. “There she goes,” Melissa said over the shocked screams of her colleagues. “She’s out.”

“Yall feel this heat?” Ava asked, just now seeing the sight of the woman on the floor before her. “Oh my God! She’s pale like a zombie! You know, they eat the hottest people first, let me back my tasty ass up.” Ava said, going back to where she came from down the hall. At her stupid words, Naoya was tempted to follow her but snapped out of it when she saw Janine on the floor.

“Uh, okay! I’m gonna go see if I can get some water out of the fridge. Hopefully, it’s still cold.” Naoya said before running off.

“Oh my God, my branzino!” Melissa yelled, moving to push Barb back.” “Excuse me, Barb. She’ll be okay!” She yelled as she pushed the older woman out of her way and jumped over the unconscious woman.

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Once Janine woke up from her little coma, the coach told her that all the kids and teachers were outside. She walked out to see all of them playing in the water that was sprouting from the fire hydrants while the teachers lunged in chairs. “Oh, look who’s back in the land of the living,” Melissa said once she saw the small woman exit the school.

“Who opens the fire hydrant?” Janine asked

“Well, as Melissa would say, snitches get stitches,” Barbra said.

“It was Naoya,” Jacob whispered to his shorter friend, pointing over at said woman who was playing in the water with the children. She had her bat at her side, leaning her weight on it as she splashed the kids who came near her to throw water her way.

“That is correct.” Melissa started again. “But I am not talking to you on account of you killing my branzino.” She said, before leaning back in her seat. Barbra gave her a look and cleared her throat. Melissa looked at the woman from under her shades and sighed a little before sitting back up. Barbra then got up from her seat, allowing Janine to take it.

“So that’s it, huh?” Janine asked, looking around at the kids. “I , uh, gave it my all, passed out, and ruined the school day?”

“Oh, you tanked,” Melissa told her. “You tanked Janine. You took the whole school down with you. It was impressive.” She pressed, knowing she was pushing the woman’s buttons.

“Look, I know. I should’ve stopped. I’m sorry.” Janine sighed. “I just felt so bad when I saw that look on Melina’s face this morning.”

“You don’t think it kills us to see those faces in the morning?” Melissa asked her. “What, are we made of stone? You’re not the first person to feel things, kid. We care.”

It was silent for a moment as Janine thought over the woman’s words. “How do you and Barbra stop yourselves from caring too much if that’s a thing.”

“Because it’s the opposite.” Melissa smiled at the girl as she took off her shades. “We care so much we refuse to burn out. If we burn out, who’s here for these kids? That’s who you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, what’s with you today Nini?” Both women jumped at the sound of Naoya’s voice, while the woman just stood behind them with her bat. “You’re normally bananas, but…” She trailed off, waving at the girl's aura.

“Uh, I don’t know. Just some stuff at home, I think.” Janine shrugged with an answer.

“Oh, okay,” Melissa said with a nod. “See, that’s the other thing me and Barbra learned. All that at-home stuff—you gotta leave it at the door. Otherwise, you open up a whole nother Panera’s box of problems.”

“I think you mean Pandora’s box,” Naoya told the woman sitting in front of her.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s Panera’s box.” She nodded, while Janine and Naoya both gave the camera a look.

Later on that day, Naoya was in her room in the process of changing the clothes she had on into some that she kept in her closet. She enjoyed playing in the water with the kids but she was not going to go home wet. As she was in the process of changing, she got a phone call. Looking down at her phone, she saw the contact and quickly answered the phone.

“Hello, Adona.” The girl sighed into the phone as she pulled a new shirt over her head.

“Oh, well don’t sound so pleased.” The feminine voice over the phone said to her. Naoya rolled her eyes, as she opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a plastic store bag. She offered the camera a glance, knowing they were probably thinking as to why she kept so many plastic bags in her drawer. But all she could offer them now was a shrug as the voice over the phone continued.

“Anyways, how are you?”

“What do you want, Adona?” Naoya spat, stuffing her semi-wet clothes into the plastic bag.

“What? I can’t see how my own sister is doing?” The woman said over the phone, the hurt in their voice obviously sarcastic.

“No, but I know you. And I know that you only call when you need money. Money for something other than your child.” The younger girl snapped over the phone. All she got in response was a sigh and some shuffling from the other end.

“You know, you don't have to rub it in.” Adona started, and Naoya rolled her eyes at the woman’s words, knowing this conversation was about to go to the argument they always had. “This all would have been so much easier if the rest of us weren’t left out of her will.”

“That’s not my fucking fault, Adona. I tell you that every time you call. Do you think I want the burden of you and the others calling me every month for some fucking bill for me to pay? Not to ask how I’m doing?” Naoya spat at her sister over the phone. She could feel her eyes start to sting, she was never the best at arguing when it came to her family. She’d been called sensitive all her life and it rang true every time she talked to her siblings.

“ “The others”? That’s what you call us? You’re family?” That was all Adona could say back. Naoya rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, pulling the phone away from her face as she sniffed and held her head back, trying to stop her tear flow. After only a few quick seconds, she brought the phone back to her face. “Uh, I can already see where this is going, so I’m gonna end it here. Just send the amount and I’ll talk to you some other time. Take care.” She said before pressing the red button on her screen to end the call.

She placed her phone in her back pocket and moved around her room to gather her things, trying her best to occupy her mind from what just ensued. She was so in her head that she forgot the cameras were there. And she didn’t hear the voice of Gregory at her door.

“Naoya?” He called out to her.

She looked up at the sound of his voice as she placed her things into her bag. “Oh, Hello Gregory.” She smiled, her face showing none of the emotions she was feeling.

“You’ve eaten?” He asked, just standing in the doorway of her classroom.

“Uh, no, actually. Janine was supposed to buy me lunch because I bet that her plan would backfire.” The woman said as she placed her things in her arms. At that, Gregory gave her a questioning look. Naoya raised her hands in surrender. “I know, I sound like a terrible friend. But it’s not that I don’t believe in Janine, I just know how to black a bet. Get it from my father.” The girl shrugged. She and Gregory both laughed lightly. And when it died down, they just started at one another, the air between them oddly peaceful.

“But, uh, are you offering?” She asked, looking at the man before her.

“Uh, yeah. I was going to ask Janine too.” He said, pointing his thumb in the direction of the said woman’s room.

“Cool! Let’s go.” She said with a genuine smile, causing the man to smile at her as well. They walked out and over to Janine’s room, where it looked like the woman was doing something on her phone. Gregory knocked on her door to get her attention. “Hey.” He said.

“Hey,” Jaimie said, looking at the two.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

“Oh. No. The um, lunch lady gave me that can of peaches but no can opener, so, no.” She chuckled, pointing at the can on her desk.

“What? No fair! You’re so lucky. Well, besides the whole can opener situation. ” Naoya said jokingly.

“Alright, we’ll, you wanna go get something to eat? With me?” Gregory said before Naoya lightly cleared her throat. “With us?” Gregory was quick to reiterate. Naoya nodded, offering the slightly flustered older man a brief look.

“Oh,” Janine said, looking between the two. “I was gonna wait for my boyfriend to finish his show to eat…” She said. Naoya nodded at her words, understanding where she was coming from. Well, understanding as best as she could because she’d never wait to eat for a man. But maybe that was love. She caught the way Gregory’s posture changed at Janin’s words out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t say anything but she did give me a crazy side-eye, hoping he noticed.

“But…no.” The shorter woman started back up with a laugh. “I’m hungry now, so I should eat now, right?”

“That’s typically how hunger works, yeah.” Gregory played along.

“Right! Normal people eat at normal times, like…4:00.” She said, pointing over at the clock on her wall.

“Yeah. All true.” Gregory said with a nod before smiling. “So, let’s go eat.”

“Let’s. Okay.” Janine said with an equally large smile before moving to grab her things. At that, Naoya turned around to head out the door, not wanting to be in the middle of an obvious love fest. She gave the cameras outside a knowing look, a large smirk on her face.

Seconds later, the two of them walked out of the room, Naoya joining them to go down the hall. On their way, they ended up meeting Jacob.

“Oh, hey guys, what up?” The man said.

“We’re just headed to get something to eat,” Gregory answered.

“Oh, great, I’ll join.” The man just inserted himself, not catching the looks thrown his way by the three. “After school crew.” He continued.

“Ooh, “After School Crew.” I like that.” Janine smiled. They all ended up stopping at the lights coming on within the school. They looked over to see Mr.Johnson in the supply closet, standing next to the breaker machine in his fishing gear.

“You touch the lights, didn’t you, Janine?” He asked, shooting an accusatory look the woman’s way.

“Yes,” Janine answered with a defeated look.

“Good thing I got me a system.” The man told her, flicking the breaker box closed. “I’ll make love to you. Like you want me to.” He continued to sing. This caused them to all sigh and continue walking. Naoya stayed behind, a fond smile on her lips as she watched the old man. When he caught the sight of the woman still there, he paused and looked at her.

“You have a good fishing trip?” She asked the man, crossing her arms over another. The man looked at the girl kind of shocked that she asked and that she knew.

“Yeah. Yeah, I actually did.” He said, offering her a smile of his own. Naoya nodded at his words before walking away, following the crew that left her. Mr.Johnson looked at the spot she left, a fond smile on his face as she continued to sing the song.

𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐌𝐬.𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥

Pairings- Black!OC x Abbott Elementary Cast, later Black!OC x Manny (Can be read as x Reader though!)

Summary- Pilot Episode Experience with Naoya Lovel

Warnings- Swearing, kids, mixed race reader( those aren’t warnings really, just what to expect)

Jazzie’sNotes!- let me know what you guys think!! I’ve been really obsessed with Abbott Elementary recently and I’m contemplating if I want to write S1&S2 just to get to the Manny season. I want to get there fast but I know what won’t be possible with two seasons worth of writing. Let me know what you guys think I should do.

Word Count- 6,358

“Okay, so you wouldn't put the number on the bottom because that's what?” The older woman asked, drawing out her words as she stood in front of her fourth-grade class, pointing at the whiteboard behind her with her yardstick.

“The denominator.” The class answered.

“Correct, and what do we call the one on top?”

“The numerator.”

“Yes! You guys are killing this lesson.” She smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. She caught the camera crew in the corner of her eyes and then turned to them. “Or should I say I’m killing this lesson?” She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she posed. It was silent for a moment as they all watched her just smile.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” She’s asked, looking at one of the guys behind the camera. He nodded, moving the camera along with him, causing her to smile and adjust her glasses. “Why, thank you.”

“Hello! My name is Naoya Lovel. Pronounced Now-Ya, it’s Japanese because I’m half Japanese. Don’t ask why I’m half Japanese in Philly, it’s a long story.” She sighed as she shook her head.

“Well, actually, let me tell you the story because it’s actually kind of crazy.” She chuckled, starting to explain, but it then cut to another clip of her in the class.

“Ms.Lovel, we ran out of paper towels.” A student said, standing in front of her desk with paint on the palms of his hands. Noaya looked up, at him, a slight frown on her face. “Ohh, okay, well I have some in my desk.” She started, pulling open her desk drawer. The camera angled down to catch the empty towel box staring back at her. She smirked up at them awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. “What, I have a constant runny nose.”

“As a teacher, you teach kids how to solve problems while solving your own. In your personal life and at school. And in this school, there are a lot.”

“Ms.Lovel, I need paper towels too.” Another student said, showing her blue and pink palms to her teacher. Noaya then stood from her seat, looking around her room. “Okay, okay class. Give me one sec.” She said, nervously looking around her room to solve her paper towel problem. She the. Saw a stray beach towel near the window on her small bookshelf. “Oh! Here we are, guys.” She said, rushing over to the towel and snatching it up.

“This could be a lesson too.” She smiled excitedly and grabbed a pair of large scissors from her desk. “I probably shouldn’t have these just sitting out.” She mumbled to herself, giving the camera a sideways glance. “So class, this is going to be a hands-on moment. If there are almost thirty of you, how many pieces would I need to cut this into for you guys to share?” She asked, looking at all of them. There was a moment before anyone said anything, the kids thinking over their answer. Then, some of their hands shot up. Naoya flashed the cameras behind her a quick smile before turning back to the kids.

“Noaya, Jacob, and I came in last year with 20 other teachers. We’re three of the four left so…trauma bonding, I guess?” Janine said, in regards to the other girl.

“Yeah, I taught for two years before I got here, I transferred from Addington to here because those people are a bunch of stuck-up freaks who are just in it for a little extra on their check.” She said with a smirk. “And that’s not what I’m here for, I’m here to change lives.” She boated, folding her arms.



“Hey, Melissa, can you please tell “Ta-Nehisi Quotes” here that “white boy” is a term of endearment from the corner store people?” Janie said as she walked into the break room on the second floor.

“Ooh, cheese steaks?” Naoya questioned as she looked up from her papers, knowing the full situation after only hearing the words ‘white boy’ and ‘corner store’.”

“For Zach Ertz, yeah.” Melissa started, turning around with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. “For him. It’s an insult.” She smirked, then paused at the sight of the cameras in her face.

“Well, you guys, I need a new rug. Mine is officially done.” Janie said.” Coming take a seat right next to the working woman.

“Mhmm! Me too.” Jacob started, taking a seat on the other side of her. “I shook mine out and all the asthma kids had to go to the nurse's office.” This conversation caused her to raise her head, placing her work aside and adjusting her glasses as she listened.

“Yeah, mine’s busted.” Melissa started. “And you can’t class up a rug like you can a couch with a nice coat of plastic.”

“You guys have rugs? All we have is a little mat.” Naoya started, looking between all of them. They all cringed at her words, but couldn’t say more before someone’s loud voice cut through the air.

“Hey-yo! What it does, baby-boo?” Ava yelled as she walked into the break room and over to where they were sitting. “What yall think about this little film crew I bought in here.”

“Distracting makes our jobs harder,” Melissa said disinterestedly, shooting the crew a glare.

“I wish I would have known this was going to be a video thing, I would have made myself look better,” Naoya mumbled, causing the camera to turn her way. She smiled, making her face appear happier than usual.

“But exciting. We about to be on TV.” Ava said, looking between them all.

“Because they are covering underfunded, loosely managed, public schools in America.” Barbra interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No press is bad press, Barb.” Ava practically disregarded the woman’s claim, continuing to smile at the camera. “Look at Mel Gibson. Still thriving.” She laughed. “ “Daddy’s Home 2”? Hilarious!” She looked around the room, either expecting people to laugh with or or just so confined in her large ego that she didn’t care if they laughed or not.

“Ava’s the worst person I know,” Noaya stated. “I’ve never seen her show an ounce of care about anything other than money. Which is a terrible mindset to have as a principal because you’re literally in the brokeest position of power.”

“There you are.” Ms.Schwartz sighed as she rushed into the room, spotting Ava. “Ava, can I talk to you?” The woman was out of breath as she stood before the principal, and her attire was disheveled. “I-I need an aid. I’m outnumbered there. The kids are crazy.” She ranted this wild look in her eyes. “One of the kids told me to ‘mind my six’ this morning, I don’t know what that means! I need help!” She ranted. Ava placed and hand on her shoulder.

“Calm down.” The darker woman said, cutting Ms. Schwartz off. “They’re just kids. And, besides, aids cost money, and we don’t have that.” She said before flashing a quick smile at the cameras. “Right, but I just—” Ms. Schwartz started again.

“Do you want to split your salary with somebody else?” Ava asked, leaning closer and angling both of them away from the cameras.

“No.” The other woman said dejected.

“No!” Ava cut her off before she could continue to rant. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Well, if we can’t get aides, maybe we can get new rugs?” Janine chimed up, standing from her seat.

“All I’m hearing is “new, new, new, need, need, need,” Ava answered. “And yet, Barb, one of our best and most senior teachers here.” She continued, walking over to the older woman who sat at the table with Melissa and drank her coffee. “She never complains. What is your secret, Barb?”

“Knowing there’s not much you can do, Ava.” The woman said with a sarcastic smile. But Ava didn’t care to hear her condescending tone.

“So understanding.” The principal smiled, looking around the room. “Be like Ms.Howard, people.” That was all she said before she left the room.

Noaya shook her head as she started to collect her things, knowing the bell would be ringing anytime soon.

“But, I’m not Ms.Howard.” Ms.Schwartz cried from where she stood.

“Ohh, Tina, look.” Janine started, walking over to the stressed woman. “Try some counting exercises, between one and forty the kids start to quiet down.” The other woman gave a slight nod before she exited the room, still in obvious distress. “You, know, a little support might help make things happen, ladies,” Janie said, turning around to face the older two women in the room.

“My support was gonna do about as much as that five-year-old bra you’ve got on right there,” Barbra said as she pushed in her chair. The camera then cuts to Naoya staring at the camera, her jaw clenched. Janine looked down at her chest for a slip second, before covering it up with her sweater and deciding to ignore the woman’s bra statement. “Hey, it’s not impossible to get things. Melissa asked for those new toy cash registers for her classroom and got them.”

“Yeah, those aren’t toys.” The Italian woman stared as she put on her coat. “I know a guy who wired a Walmart demolition. I got a guy for everything. I know a guy right now working on the stadium build. Need rebar?” She asked, looking around the room.

Noya just shook her head.

“No,” Janine answered.

“Melissa is resourceful, capable.” Ms. Howard started, looking between all the younger teachers. Naoya’shead jerked back at what she was insinuating but before she could say anything, Janine placed a hand on her shoulder and started talking.

“Well, I think the younger teachers are capable.”

“Really? Then why is it that Ms.Schwartz’s hair is falling out? Why does Jacob here need a smoking break every five minutes?” The woman sassed, gesturing over to the male beside her.

“I switched to an herbal vape.” He tried to defend himself.

“And why can’t any of you stick it out longer than two years? More turnovers than a bakery.” She hissed before her and Melissa walked out of the door. Once it shut behind them, Naoya turned to her friends beside her.

“I almost lose my job every day dealing with the people here.” She shook her head, resting her butt on the table behind her, the other two following suit.

“You know what? Hell, I think we should still try for rugs.” Jacob’s said.

“Yeah.” Janine agreed.

“You know, before I taught here, I was in Zimbabwe.” Jacob started, causing Noaya to stand up completely and begin to walk to the door. “I was going Teachers Without Boarders, and what I learned—.”

“Jacob.” Noaya cut in, turning to face the two of them. “What did we say you about, like, not talking about your time in Africa?” She said, gesturing between her and Janine. The boy stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.

“We told you to stop. Yeah, it’s weird.” Janine finished, looking over at the male.

“I have an immense amount of respect for my elders, including the ones I work with.” Naoya smiled at the cameras. “But Mrs.Howard has a smart mouth on her. A mouth that has never been directed at me.” She continued to smile, although strained, and raised her hands in mock defense. “But the day it is the day I got to prison.” And although she was finished, she was cut off by the sound of quick hurried footsteps making their way around the corner. She turned around just in time to catch Janine with a student.

“Noaya, come quick, there’s a fight.” The older woman got out as best as she could, although out of breath. Naoya ran around the corner, practically leaving the child and shirt woman in the dust.

“Damn, she’s fast,” Janine said, briefing glancing at the kids next to her before rushing to follow the running woman.

“What the hell is going on here?” Naoya yelled as she entered the hectic scene with a bat in her hands. She saw the crazed look the teachers were giving her and she shrugged. “I heard there was a fight, I brought it just in case.”

“Where did you get that? I was right behind you.” Janie asked, out of breath with her hands on her knees.

“I didn’t know she had it in her like that.” Melissa nodded a proud smirk on her lips. “I like her.”

“That’s beside the point, what happened?” Naoya asked, looking at the older white woman standing in front of a child. “He hit me first!” Ms.Schwartz said, pointing at the boy across from her.

“Liar!” The boy yelled back at her, being held back by Ms.Howard.

“I’m a liar? I'M A LIAR?” Ms.Schwartz asked a crazed look in her eyes, her gaze solely trained on the little boy.

“I can’t believe she hit a kid,” Noaya said, shock written all over her face as she folded her arms. “I mean, I threaten that I will but I never actually do it.” She shrugged.

“Okay!” Ava yelled, interrupting the conversation between the small group of teachers. “So, not good. Ms.Schwartz was out of line and clearly didn’t know how to handle her class.” The woman sighed.

“You hired her.” Melissa spat back.

“And fired her,” Ava responded. “They give me a lot of power around here. It’s crazy.” The woman smirked.

Melissa and Noaya both gave the camera a look of disbelief.

“In the meantime, Mr.Johnson will be watching her class.” Ava finished.

“Mr.Johnson the janitor?” Naoya spoke up. “Our conspiracy theorist janitor? Teaching social studies? Do we not see the problem with this?” She asked, looking around at the group.

“I think maybe we should alert the school district to this,” Jacob spoke up, getting spins of approval from the rest. “I mean, a child was harmed.” He tried to finish before Ava cut in.

“Hey! Harmed?” She questioned. “I handled this. No need to let them know that a child was harmed on my wa—” She stopped, remembering that she was being recorded, and looked towards the camera. “On the school's watch, to be clear.” She clarified.

“Ava, this is not handled,” Janine spoke up. “There is a 70-year-old custodian who voted for Kanye teaching social studies right now.” The woman stressed, pointing down the hall. “We need help. Look, I know we don’t have any money—“

“Okay!” Ava cut her off. “Alright. I’ll make a small emergency budget request to the district, and then you guys can get pencils and hire aides or whatever else you need.”

“So, even rugs?” Janine asked her entire demeanor from earlier changing at the woman’s words.

“Sure! Just email a request.” Ava replied.

“Okay! I can- I can write an email.” Janine smiled excitedly.”

“Another day in principal life.” Ava smiled at the cameras before walking away, horribly singing some old song. “I believe the children are our future.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Um…Hello?” An unfamiliar voice called out as she came into the school building, making their way to stand in front of the desk. “I’m looking for Ms.Coleman.” The man said. Melissa looked up at him. “Oh, yeah she’s—“ She was cut off by Ava rushing up next to her.

“Hello.” Again said flirtatiously, looking the man up and down.

“Hi, I’m Gregory Eddie. I’m the sun for the teacher who, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at the papers he pulled from his briefcase. “Pinter a student.” The man said worriedly, looking back up at her.

“Oh! You’re the sub.” Ava said. “Forgive me, I thought one of my colleagues here hired a stripper for me.” Ava laughed off, dismissing the looks Melissa and Barbra gave her. “Okay.” That was all Gregory could say to that, giving the woman obvious judgmental looks.

“Nice to meet you, young man.” Barbra offered him a kind smile.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Ryan,” Melissa said, staring at the together papers.

“It’s Gregory.”

“Eh, let’s see how long you’ll be here.” She said, only flexing up after she was done stapling. “Then I’ll remember your name. Okay, Tim?”

Gregory didn’t even have time to fully digest the interactions he just had with the women before him before Jacob came around the corner. “Yes!” He smiled, stalking up to the man. “My dude.” He said, arms open for some sort of hug but was cut short by Gregory putting his hand out. “Oh, yeah,” Jacob said, placing his hand on the one offered out to him. “Keeping it profesh. I like that.” He smiled, leaning against the counter. “I’m Jacob. It’s nice to see another male teacher in here. It’s not a lot of us. Hey, now I got somebody to talk sports with. You like women’s tennis?” The paler man asked, before shooting the camera a sideways glance. “Or, as I call it, you know, regular tennis.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Naoya was walking the halls, whistling a tune with her bad over her shoulders when she came across a tall, good-looking man in a gray sweater. Hearing her, the man turned around to see a tall, light-skinned woman with a large, light brown puff ponytail at the back of her head. She had on specs that covered most of her face, enlarging her eyes. She was dressed in a slightly baggy pair of dark wash denim jeans with brown shoes that matched the brown in her green sweater, paired with a white shirt underneath. Seeing the mysterious man, she furrowed her brows at him from down the hall.

“Uh, hello.” The man waved awkwardly from down the hall.

Naoya waved back as she made her way closer to the man. “Uh, hi. Are you lost?” She asked, slowing down when she got in front of him. “In a school building?…And smelling like pee and/or vomit. I’m calling security.” She started to back up and pull out her phone, or even yell before she stopped and frowned. “Oh wait, I am security.” She said, moving her bat to her good hand getting ready to swing.

“Wait!” The man yelled, sticking out his hands in defense. “I’m a sub! I’m here to fill in for the woman who kicked the kid.” He defended.

Naoya visibly relaxed as she looked the man up and down, taking in his formal attire. “Okay.” She said, dropping her defensive pose. “That still doesn’t explain the smell.” She said, giving the man a disgusted once over. Gregory stuttered to get an answer, embarrassed by the cameras and such an awkward situation in front of another beautiful woman.

“It’s a long story. A broken toilet, a student wet his pants, another one threw up.” The man shrugged, a look of disgust crossing his face as he thought it all over. At his words, Noaya nodded with a look of understanding.

“No, yeah. I get it. Well, um, congratulations on being here considering…” She trailed off, gesturing around the school and then to him. “If you need anything at all, I’m at the very end of the hall. I'm Naoya Lovel, and I teach fourth grade. I’ll be here to help any way I can, I am known for having everything anyone might ever need, so.” She shrugged and began walking away, pat him, and to her class. The man nodded, a sliver of a smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on the spot she just left. Catching the camera out of the corner of his eye, she quickly straightened up and then turned the opposite way to face her. “May I ask why you’re carrying a bat?” He asked.

Naoya stopped walking, the bad still in her hand as she angled her body slightly to look back at him. “No, you may not.” She said with a smile before continuing to walk away and into her classroom. Gregory just nodded and walked into his room as well.

“Today was utterly disgusting, but she and Janine seem nice.” He smiled slightly.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“I got a good feeling about this,” Jacob smirked at Naoya and Janine as they and the rest of the teachers gathered outside at the entrance of the school. It had something to do with Ava needing them to see the improvements she made to the school. “Right? Me too!” Janine said excitedly. Naoya rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her pockets due to the cold weather.

“I wish I could live in the blissful ignorance you guys call optimism.” She said, looking between her two friends. They only rolled their eyes at the girl, who was usually a pessimistic person, so they didn’t take her words too seriously.

“Good morning!” Ava said to all the teachers before her, who were obviously in no good mood. “Good Morning!” Janine was the only one to respond.

“Gregory.” Ava finished, giving the man a look. Noaya furrowed her brows slightly, throwing the man a sideways glance.

“The district was so moved by my plea that they approved the emergency budget and sent us the money right away,” Ava said to the group. The crowd started clapping, Jacob and Janine were genuinely happy while most were in shock that the district pulled through.

“Okay, we could have hired aides, we could have got rugs.” Ava continued as the clapping died down. “But then I thought, “No. We need something more immediate.” She said, her words causing Naoya to nod her head as she began slowly making her way away from the group. She knew this wasn’t going to end well, and this was her stopping herself from throwing her loafers at Ava’s head.

“Oh, no, no. The rugs are immediate.” Janie spoke up. “They’re like instant Xanax for kids. I explained it all in my email.” She told the group as she made her way to extract her phone from her purse.

“Girl, who told you to send an email?” Ava asked, looking down the steps at the shorter woman. Jannie stopped what she was doing and glared at Ava. “You did.” She hissed, looking at her confused.

“Anyways, I always feel better when I get my hair done.” Ava continued, not caring for what Janine had to say, as she showed off her new blonde number. “Thus, I do better work, like I’m doing now.” She smiled at them. “You know, fix the outside, the inside takes care of itself.” She then gestured up to the giant tarp over the building, the man pulling it down to show a sign.

It was a giant Willard R. Abbott Elementary sign with Ava on it, leaning onto the letters. The teachers just stood there and looked up at the sign, no words were said between any of them. But they all had the same thought.

What the fuck?

“Yall seeing this?” Ava asked, copying her pose that was on the sign.

“A plastic sign?” Janine asked, looking between the woman and the sign.

“Thank God for the school district, because they gave us $3,000 and I had to spend all of it.” Ava said as if she didn’t care about the severity of the words she just said.

“You spent all of the money on this?!” Janie asked in disbelief.

“Rush job, can you believe this quality?” The terrible principal continued.

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“This is fucking ridiculous, she has gone too far,” Naoya said as she, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory rushed back into the school.

“Somebody needs to do something before I get my bat back out. Actually, Forget the bat, I’m gonna go get a gu—.”

“Okay! Yes.” Jacob cut her off, trying to ignore the scared look Noaya received from Janine and Gregory, while she just continued to sit in her anger, not even seeing them. “Somebody, anybody but you, should do something.” The man said to the angry woman.

“You know what. I’m gonna do something.” Janine said, as stored up and Naoya. Well, maybe not as much but still fired up.

“Okay, alright. Whatever you do, I will co-sign it.” Jacob encouraged. “Yes!” Janine said. “That is how change works. Someone does something and somebody co-signs it.” He finished.

“I want Jannie to succeed in what her plan is because Ava needs to be out in her place, “professionally”, or whatever Jacob said,” Naoya stated, rolling her eyes. “But I also want her to prove something to Barb. For her sake. Because Janine really needs a mother figure in her life and the constant groveling for Barb’s praise is starting to make me want to choke.” She finished with a shrug. “That’s my girl though, I love her.”

“Hey, you two, wait up! I’m going out to lunch too.” Janie called out to Melissa and Bard as they walked down the hall. The camera caught Naoya, who rolled her eyes at the situation she was just talking about making an appearance as she walked after Janine.

“Oh yeah, where are you going for lunch pip-squeak? Bird feeder?” Melissa joked, putting her purse over her shoulder.

“Thought you’d be working on your next miracle from Saint Ava.” Barbra pushed.

“Ha ha, No.” The shorter woman defended herself. “I don’t think I’ll need anything from Ava ever again.” Janine smiled, her words causing the other three women to look confused.

“What does that mean?” Naoya chimed in from behind them, ready to go out for lunch as well.

“Well, I emailed the superintendent and told him everything Ava has done today. No way she doesn’t get fired.” Janie bragged.

“Oh, for the lives of God.” Melissa groaned.

“Janine,” Noaya said in disappointment. “This is why I told you to tell me.”

“What?” She asked, looking between the three women.

“The superintendent never sees our emails,” Barbra told her. “He has them bounced back to the person in charge of where they came from.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Janie stared. “Person in charge? That means the emails go back to…” She trailed off, the dots connecting. Just in time for said person to come in the intercom with an announcement.

“Teachers, it’s come to my attention that some of you—one of you—.” Ava clarified, looking through the glass of her office at the group of women standing at the door, her eyes trained on one in particular. “Think it’s okay to go over my head. So, during lunch break—this lunch break—we’ll be having a trait workshop so that we can learn how to become a woke family.” The woman was clearly pissed off, glaring at Janine from where she sat. “It’s gonna be fun!”

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“We are at a crossroads, this is a crisis,” Ava stressed as she stood before the hired group of teachers.

“No, a crisis is eating the cafeteria pizza for lunch.” Naoya chimed in from where she sat in the back.

“Uh, why are we here, exactly?” Gregory asked his seat right in front of hers.

“Well, chocolate drop.” Ava started, causing Naoya to snicker at the name. “I learned that someone here doesn’t respect me. But it’s not about me. Because if you don’t respect me, how can you respect this school?” She continued, causing them all to look at her confused as such a stupid correlation. But, it looks like Ava took that as a look of confusion due to her question.

“You can’t. It’s mathematically impossible.” She finished.

“W-Whoa. Who doesn’t respect you, Ava—I mean, the school?” Jacob asked.

“Me,” Naoya said but seemed to be completely ignored.

“It’s not important. We’re gonna make this a group matter so as too not to single any one person out.” The woman answered him. “Let’s try an excuse where we say whatever we want out loud to each other, no matter how critical. It’ll be fun, let’s start with Janine.” She said, looking over at the short woman who was practically shrinking in on herself.

“Janine?” She asked, smirking evilly.

“Yes?” Janine asked dejectedly, knowing that this whole situation was her fault and knowing that Ava did the exact thing she said she didn’t want to. Single her out.

“You’re pushy, squeaky and annoying,” Ava stated.

Collective disagreement was heated around the room.

“Excuse me?” Melissa piped up.

“Thaya just…” Gregory said.

“When is it my turn?” Naoya asked, starting to take her earring out of her ear.

“No, it’s not bad. No.” Ava defended. “We’re shaking to make us all better. Constructive. Hershey kiss, why don’t you try, start with Janine.” She pushed.

“I don’t want to.” The man sighed.

“You’re right, it should be someone who knows her better. Noaya, Jacob, Barbra?” She asked, looking between the two.

“When is it your turn? I wanna go when it’s your turn.” Naoya stated, folding her arms to keep herself at bay. Gregory glanced back, seeing the look of pure hatred on her face.

“Well, her hair is—“ Jacob started before getting cut off.

“Not!” Noaya and Barba said at the same time, the younger more so talking to her friend next to Janine, who gave the man next to her a look of disbelief.

“Ava, no one’s doing this to anyone.” Melissa started, looking at the woman before her.

“Hold on, I came prepared for this. Sheena, come on in.” Ava said, looking behind her to a student who was sitting behind the library desk.

“Ava, that is my student, she should be at lunch right now,” Janine complained, as everyone in the room looked at the little girl, trying to see what Ava's plan was.

“I am kinda hungry.” The little girl sighed, begrudgingly walking closer to the woman.

“Sheena, remember what we talked about? What was the thing that you wished was different about Ms.Teagues?” Ava asked the little girl. She just stood there, not knowing what to say as the whole room waited on her.

“She got some big feet.” Mr.Johnson chimed in from the very back of the children’s library where he was sweeping.

“Okay.” Janine sighed before standing from her seat. “Everyone, that’s enough. I am the person who disrespected Ava. I emailed the superintendent to tell him that she spent the school's money on a sign.”

“And got her hair done,” Naoya said, Janine, gesturing over to her in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Ava.” She continued. “And I’m sorry everyone missed lunch, especially you, Sheena. But I didn’t it because I care about the kids in this school, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing.” She ranted. “I—Okay. You know what.” She sighed, done talking. She felt as if no one was listening anyway and just wanted to leave. She was on her way out before turning back around. “Sheena, you should have this. I’m sorry.” She said, handing the school pizza over to the girl.

“Uh, no thank you.” The girl said, shaking her head. Janine just sighed again and turned to leave.

Ava chuckled as she watched the girl walk off, shaking her head. “Not a compelling speaker.” She smirked as she shook her head. “Charisma vacuum, am I right?”

Noaya cracked her neck as she stood up. The teachers in front of her filmed a little at the sound and her sudden movements. But she ignored that. “You know what, Ava? I was going to whoop your ass in the parking lot, and as much satisfaction as that would bring me, I don’t want to lose my job. Because I care about these kids. Just like Janine. And she may be a lot of things, like naive, a bit clingy and too cheerful—.”

“Ooh, this is good stuff, let me call her back in here,” Ava smirked as if she didn’t hear the first part of the girls’ speech.

“But she is also right.” Barba cut in, standing up with Naoya. “You know, actually wanting to help the children at this school shouldn’t be a bag thing.” The older woman finished for her. Afterwards, both her and Naoya walked out, letting Ava sit with their words.

They walked out to find the girl in front of her classroom, looking through the window. “Janine, ignore Ava. Big feet are a sign of fertility.” Barbra stated.

“I’m telling you to just give me the signal, I can have her framed for mur—something.” The light skinned girl said, catching herself in front of the cameras.

“Every lunch period, guys.” Was all Janine said before stepping out of their way to show the inside of her class. They both looked in seeing a little boy napping on his jacket, as the library door sounded again. “Every single one, Amir comes and naps in the rug.” She said, informing the whole group as Melissa, Jacob and Gregory joined.

“Mm-hmm. He was in my class.” Barbra said with a fond smile on her face. Mom’s got a lot of kids. Dad’s not around and when she is, the parents fight.”

“Right, so he doesn’t get much sleep. I told him to sleep at his desk, but she says that rug is softer—.” The shirt woman paused, trying to get emotional over the whole situation. “Softer than his bed at home.” There was a moment of silence as all the adults sat with her words. It’s hard hearing about the life of the kids you see everyday, knowing they live lives no one should. And knowing it’s on you to create a better life for them at school.

“You know what? I don’t care I you think I’m good at this or not anymore. I care about whether or not I can make a change.” Janine told Barbra as sternly as she could, which wasn’t a lot.

“Janine.” The woman started. “Teachers at a school like Abbott— we have to be able to do it all. We are admin, we are social workers, we are therapists, we are second parents. Hell, sometimes we’re even first.”

“Mm-hmm.” Melissa agreed.

“Why?” Barbra continued. “It sure ain’t the money.”

“Yup. I can make more working the street, easy.” Melissa chimed in. Causing Jacob and Naoya to look at each other in concern.

“Prostitution?” She mouthed over to the man, who shrugged.

“Look, we do this ‘cause we’re supposed to.” Melissa said to Janine. “It’s a calling. You answered.”

They all looked at eachother fondly, before Jacob started.

“I believe it was Brother Cornel West—“

“No.”

“Don’t.”

“Not right now, white boy.”

They all told him, causing the man to retreat back to his corner.

“You want to know my secret?” Barbra asked, ringing the subject back to where it was. “Do everything you can for your kids.” She smiled. “We’ll help. Hey, I suggest we put our money together and buy Janine the rug.” The older woman encouraged. “What yall think?”

“Absolutely.” Melissa said, pulling out her wallet.

“Guys, you can’t.” Janine started, looking between them. “You don’t have it. I know because I have the same salary as you and I overdrafted on a doughnut hole this morning.”

“Don’t tell me how much money I have.” Noaya stated, holding her hand out as a halt to the girl's words. “I do not claim that broke energy.”

“Well, why are you gonna do?” Barbra asked. “Steal a rug?”

“Not me, but I know a guy who knows a guy?” Janie trailed off, looking between Noaya and Melissa. The light skinned girl raised her hands. “I don’t know a cute guy that can steal that many carpets that fast.” She shrugged, a hopeless look on her face as she glanced at Melissa.

“Way ahead of you.” The woman said as she started typing into her phone. “I’m gonna have to bake a ziti.” She said, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Tony, ya big strung, listen, you still working that stabiuk build?” She said into the device as she walked away from the group.

Sometime later, a guys pulled up in a truck around back with a bunch of rugs for them. They all celebrated, going one by one to grab a rug. “Yay! I finally have one! My room was so depressing.” Naoya said as she waked down the hall with her rug.

“You’re on a mission.” Gregory stated, looking at the shorter girl in between him and Noaya. “It’s cool to see.”

“Thank you. Just a day in the life of being a teacher here. You get used to it.” Janine smiled.

“And that smell in the walls?” He asked, pointing.

“Oh no, you’re never gonna get used to that. Sometimes I wish I had a bad nose like Naoya.” She joked, elbowing the girl next to her. The taller woman lightly groaned. “Janine, you know that’s a big insecurity of mine. I have a fear of smelling bad.” The half Japanese girl tried to clarify to the male. “You’re subbing to go full time right?” She asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Um, we’ll see.” He said as they all briefly stopped in the hallway. “This job definitely surprises me.”

“Well, I hope you stay.” Janine said. “For the kids.” She clarified. Naoya shot a quick glacé to the camera, a small smirk on her face. She then decided to walk away. The camera caught Gregory’s eyes jumping from both women walking away, a small smile on his face. He then looked in the camera and dropped his expression.

“I’ll stick around for a while.” He said. “You know, for the kids.”

“Look guys!” Naoya said as she rolled out her shakes rug for her students. They all celebrated, clapping excitedly at the fact that they had a rug now.

“Ms.Lovel, I hate the egales.” One student said, standing next to the woman.

“Yeah, me too, kid. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” She said, patting the top of their head as Ava walked past her door. She paused at the sight of the rugs. Naoya placed her hands on her hips and cocked her neck, making Ava glare at the woman for a quick second before walking away.

“And that kids, is how you get rid of the enemy without fighting.” She said, pointing around the room to make sure they were watching. “Now that we have a rug, let’s watch that nature documentary!” She said excitedly, causing all the students to yell with excitement well.

Reblog this and put in the tags what country you’re from and all the science classes you took in high school (for non Americans that’s approximately when you’re 14, 15, 16, and 17 years old)

I'm only saying this for your sake, but objectively, it's not a smart idea to bring politics into normal hobbies. You might lose supporters of your blog just because of your political stance, and that would be terrible since you're so amazing!! It's only a suggestion, but I really reccomend not bringing politics into anything.

LOVE DROUGHT II, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x oc [chelsea brooks]. word count⠀⁎⠀19.3k.

summary⠀⁎⠀after coming clean about their affair, chelsea and joe are looking forward to their new lives together. there's a few things they have to address first.

author's note⠀⁎⠀chelsea needs to take a deep breath & chill, happy ending :) warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, slut shaming, smut, oral (m. & f. receiving), overstimulation

There was an old saying about perfectionism being the enemy of progress, an elusive ideal that stifled compassion and growth. Chelsea remembered being a teenager, hearing her father scoff at the television when the saying fell off the lips of a political candidate. He grumbled about the world going soft, "Good enough ain't good enough," he insisted, his Georgia drawl thick with disdain, lips curled around a cigar. She didn't think too hard about it then, simply internalizing his words, making them a mantra, a shield to ward off failure.

For the first 30 years of her life, Chelsea had lived by that mantra. She'd become a successful entertainment lawyer, a trophy wife to a neurosurgeon, and the proud owner of a sprawling estate in an affluent neighborhood. But in the quiet moments, when she allowed herself to breathe, it all felt hollow. It was as if the very foundation of her life was a meticulously crafted lie, painted in shades of 'should' instead of 'want'.

For decades she attempted to reconcile her ambition with the expectations placed upon her. She'd studied hard, dressed the part, spoke when spoken to, diminished her desires, all to live up to the expectations of everyone but herself. At 34-years-old she was faced with the realization that her perfection still wasn't perfect enough. Her marriage fell apart and she resented every knee-length dress, every perfectly placed smile, and every decision made with her family's legacy in mind.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Chelsea as she found herself in a perfectly pristine hotel room. The walls were a stark white, unblemished by the fingerprints of time. She took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the space, feeling the weight of their shared secrets dissipate into the stale hotel air.

The chilling realization that her father was utterly wrong settled into Chelsea's bones. Perfectionism was the enemy of progress; an ugly, anxious enemy that whispered doubt in the quiet moments of the night. Her heart raced as she thought about the future she had just bought herself, the one filled with whispers and side-eyes at parties, the one where she had to explain why she left a perfectly good man for the thrill of something new. But as she lay in Joe's arms, she felt something she hadn't in a long time: imperfect.

Joe snored in his sleep, a soft noise barely audible until Chelsea pressed her ear to his chest. His heart was a steady drum, a comforting rhythm that had become a lullaby to her own tumultuous thoughts. She pushed herself up and out of bed, her feet landing softly on the plush carpet. The hotel room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside. She grabbed her phone, the screen illuminating her face with a harsh blue light. The time read 2 AM, but sleep felt like a distant memory.

Their hotel room was dressed in black, distant lights from the city outside painting shadows on the walls. Chelsea stood in front of the window, her silhouette dark with the reflection of the streetlights, her mind racing with the evening's potential for drama.

"You okay?" Joe asked, his voice rumbly with sleep as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Chelsea nodded, but didn't turn around. "Just thinking."

"About what?" He hummed, low and lazy, his breath ghosting over her bare shoulder.

"Everything," she replied, her voice thick with anticipation. "How my colleagues will look at me, what they'll say about me behind my back. I took my ring off," she held up her bare hand, the absence of her wedding band leaving a noticeable difference in color. "But that doesn't change who I was. Who I am."

Joe's grip tightened, pulling her closer so she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back. "You're you," he said firmly. "And I'm proud of you, no matter what anyone else thinks."

With a deep breath, Chelsea turned to face him, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. She nodded, a frown still tugging at her lips. "I know. I'm just..." she sighed, shoulders slumping. "My father hasn't spoken to me since I told him I was leaving Terrence. He thinks I'm throwing away everything we've worked for."

Joe's eyes searched hers, filled with understanding. "Your dad's old school," he said gently. "He'll come around. When he sees how much happier you are, he'll get it."

"That's sweet of you to hope so," she mused bitterly. "The last time I disappointed him, he skipped out on my graduation to golf with his buddies."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed, and he pulled Chelsea closer. "You never told me that," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"It's not a secret or anything," she replied with a shrug, trying to brush off the pain of that memory. "It's just one of those things that I don't like to think about. He blamed me for it, still does. If you ask him, I'm the one who took that experience away from him. I don't even remember what I did. But that feeling... it's stuck with me."

Joe kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. "I'm sorry." His voice was a gentle rumble. "I wish I could take all that pain away."

"You do, Joe," she whispered. "Just by being here, I swear you do. But I have to learn how to stand on my own two feet, stop looking for approval from people who don't understand me." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "You should go back to bed, it's 2 in the morning."

Joe nodded, his eyes filled with understanding, and kissed her forehead before heading back to the bedroom. Chelsea took one last look at the quiet streets outside before closing the curtains.

Every Wednesday, Joe made the two-hour, or so, drive down to see his parents. It was a ritual that had been ingrained in him since he was in college at Ohio State, a way to maintain a connection to his roots, to the people who had raised him, and to the simpler times of his past. With his brothers engrossed in their own lives, thousands of miles away, Joe had become the de facto caretaker of their aging parents. And despite his own life being in upheaval, the routine remained unchanged.

For the last eleven years of his life, those afternoon trips included brief check-ins with Gianna's parents as well. She didn't typically accompany him on his weekly visits, a fact Joe knew deeply affected them, though they'd never admit it out loud. By all accounts, he was a perfect son-in-law—respectful, successful, and dedicated to his family—it was a comfortable role to play, one that didn't require much deviation from his own nature. But now, as he pulled into the driveway of his parents' modest suburban home, he felt a new kind of anxiety.

It had been a week since he and Gianna called it quits—quite amicably, to his surprise. If he was being honest, it struck him as odd how quickly she settled into a chilling acceptance after hearing him admit to his infidelity. She'd been stoic, almost cold, as she calmly requested he leave, her brown eyes cold and distant. It spoke to a level of detachment that Joe hadn't begun to understand. He knew he'd hurt her, but the absence of tears, the lack of shouting, left him feeling as though he hadn't hurt her at all. Maybe it was shock, or maybe their marriage had been over for a long time, and they'd both been too comfortable to admit it.

He shut off the engine to his Land Rover, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension that had been building during the drive. The house was quiet as he let himself in, the scent of his mother's famous lasagna wafting from the kitchen.

"Ma, I'm home," Joe called out, his voice echoing through the hallways.

"In the kitchen, sweetheart," his mother's voice sang out.

Joe stepped in, his stomach rumbling at the mouthwatering aroma of garlic and tomato sauce. Robin bustled around the kitchen, her pristine blonde hair tied back in a neat bun. She looked up from her work, a smile breaking out on her round face as she spotted him. "Oh, Joey," she greeted, arms opening wide for a hug.

He embraced her, feeling the warmth of her love wrap around him like a blanket. "How are you, Ma?"

"Better now that you're here," she said, her eyes scanning him with concern. "You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?"

Joe forced a smile. "Some. Thanks for worrying." He leaned against the counter, watching her stir the pot with a practiced hand. "Is Dad home? I've been meaning to talk to you both."

"He's in the attic. We finally took the Halloween stuff down," his mother said, her eyes not leaving the bubbling sauce. "But he'll be down in a bit."

Joe nodded, his stomach twisting with nerves. This was going to be the first time he'd break the news to them, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He knew they'd be disappointed, maybe even a little ashamed. But he owed it to them to be honest.

The door to the attic creaked open, and Joe's dad descended the stairs, a dusty box in his hands. Jimmy was rosy-cheeked, a soft-spoken man from Mississippi with a gentle smile. "I found some of your old baseball trophies," he said, setting the box down. "Thought you might want 'em."

Joe took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his impending confession. "Thanks, Dad," he said, "but I actually need to talk to you guys." He took a seat at the kitchen table, his mother's eyes flicking to his, a hint of worry creasing her brow.

"What's going on, Joe?" his dad asked, setting down the box and taking a seat across from him. His eyes took note of the tan line adorning his son's left ring finger, and his gaze grew solemn, having anticipated this moment for years.

"It's about Gianna and I," Joe began, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "We've decided to get a divorce."

The kitchen, once filled with the comforting aroma of his mother's cooking, grew tense, the air thick with the weight of his words. His parents exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them, before his mother spoke, her voice gentle. "Oh, Joe, we're so sorry to hear that." Her hand reached out to cover his, the warmth and love in her touch a stark contrast to the cold reality of his situation.

His father, usually a stoic man, cleared his throat. "Would you like to talk about it?" His eyes searched Joe's, looking for a hint of what was really going on beneath the surface.

Joe took a deep breath. "It's complicated," he admitted. "I was unfaithful." He watched as his mother's eyes filled with shock and sadness, while his father's jaw tightened. "I know it's not an excuse, but we've been growing apart for a long time. And then I met Chelsea..."

His father's expression grew stern. "Is she the reason for all of this?"

Joe shook his head, feeling the burden of his actions pressing down on him. "No, she's not 'the reason'. This was my choice, my mistake. I just... there's a lot of pain here, Dad, and I'm trying to figure out how to live with it." His father's expression softened slightly, but the disapproval remained. "I know you're disappointed in me, and I don't blame you. But I need you two to understand that I've filed for divorce, and that's it."

His mother's grip on his hand tightened. "What about... Chelsea, is that her name?" she asked, her voice tentative. "Is she going to be a part of your life now?"

Joe nodded, his throat tightening. "Yeah, she is." He took a deep breath. "We're going to see where it goes."

His father leaned back in his chair, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "Well, Joe," he said, his voice gruff, "you know we're here for you. But you've got a mess to clean up, son. Don't go rushing into anything without thinking it through."

Joe nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I know, Dad. I'm not planning to." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "But I do love her. And I wanted to have this conversation with you guys first before... before it goes public."

His mother reached out and touched his cheek gently. "We just want you to be happy, Joe," she said, her eyes misting over. "But you need to consider the consequences, not just for yourself, but for Chelsea and Gianna too. They're both going to be scrutinized, publicly and privately, because of your actions."

Joe nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He had been so wrapped up in his own pain and desires that he had not fully considered the ripple effect of their choices. "I know," he murmured, "and I'll do whatever it takes to protect both of them."

His father sighed, leaning forward. "Is it too soon to meet her? Your mother's right, we don't want to jump into anything. But if you're serious, we need to know what we're getting into."

Joe felt a wave of relief. It wasn't the outright rejection he had feared. "We're taking it slow," he assured them. "But I do want you to meet her. Soon. I'll ask her to come for dinner once things are a bit more settled."

"Sounds like a plan," his mother said with a gentle smile. "I can't say I'm surprised that you two are going your separate ways." Jimmy nodded solemnly, "I knew something was off when you didn't bring her to the last family gathering."

Joe's heart sank a bit at the realization that his family had noticed the strain in his marriage before he had been willing to admit it to himself. "I'm sorry," he said, looking down at his hands.

His mother reached across the table, her hand warm on his arm. "Don't apologize," she said firmly. "You're human, Joe. You make mistakes. What's important is that you learn from them and own up to them."

Joe nodded, his eyes brimming with gratitude. "I know," he said, his voice thick. "But it's hard not to feel like a complete fuck-up. I gave up everything for my marriage and yet, here I am. Divorced at 36."

"You're not a failure," his father said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You're a man who realized he wasn't happy and had the courage to change his life. That takes guts."

Joe looked up, surprised at the support from his usually stoic father. It was a side of him he hadn't seen often, and it made him feel a bit more hopeful about the future. "Thanks, Dad," he murmured, feeling a lump form in his throat.

"But Joe," his father continued, "You have to be ready for the whispers, the judgments. You're not just any man, you're Joseph Burrow, you're our son, an executive, Gianna's ex-husband. Your choices will have consequences."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of his decision. "I know, Dad. But I've never felt like this before. With Chelsea, it's... different."

"Love is a powerful force, son," his mother said softly, taking his hand. "But it's not just about feelings. It's about actions, and the ripples they create. We're here for you, but you must be prepared for what's to come."

Joe nodded solemnly, knowing that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. Despite the comfort of his family's understanding, the thought of facing the judgment of their social circles was daunting.

The first instance of judgment came sooner than expected. A week later, Joe found himself at a high-profile gala with Chelsea on his arm, her emerald-green dress hugging her curves and her eyes sparkling with excitement. She had insisted on taking him, eager to finally have a date she could proudly introduce to her colleagues. As they mingled among the glitz and glamour, whispers and side-long glances followed them like shadows. It was clear that news had spread.

In the year since Chelsea had joined the firm's roster of junior partners, Terrence had never once accompanied her to any work events. The glitz and glamour of her job was something he'd always found tedious, preferring the sterile halls of the hospital to the fake smiles and forced conversations at galas. The casual insult of "day drinking with celebrities" always came to mind when she stood lonely at the bar, nursing a Manhattan on her own just to show her face. Her colleagues were aware she was married, her sparkling diamond ring serving as a constant reminder that she was off-limits. But tonight, as she stood in a stunning emerald dress next to Joe, matching bare ring fingers, the puzzled faces of her colleagues spoke volumes.

To their credit, most of them hid it well. Between polite greetings and questions about Joe's athletic past, the whispers grew quieter as the evening progressed. Chelsea felt like a spectacle, her heart racing with every sideways glance. The weight of their secret hung in the air, a heavy burden that grew heavier with each passing minute. She knew that Joe was feeling it too; she could see the tension in the way he held his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. But he played the part of the charming dinner date flawlessly, making small talk and laughing at the right moments, all while keeping a protective arm around her waist.

She knew she was being paranoid, but every whispered word seemed to be about them. She could almost hear the murmurs of "neurosurgeon" and "divorce" as they circulated through the room. The atmosphere grew stifling, and she could feel herself retreating into the cocoon of insecurity that seemed to be an undesirable, familiar companion. She took a sip of her wine, trying to keep a smile plastered on her face while they mingled, charms working overtime.

"You okay?" Joe whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

She could only allow a tight-lipped nod, eyes scanning the room for a friendly face. "I'm fine," she murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her dress. The evening was a sea of judgmental glances and knowing nods from the older partners, each one feeling like a knife twisting in her gut.

Joe squeezed her hand gently. "You're doing great, babe."

Chelsea didn't respond, her eyes lingering on a group of her colleagues who had just exchanged a look in her direction. She felt like a specimen under a microscope, their gazes dissecting her every move. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she took another gulp of wine, hoping it would dull the ache.

Suddenly, the music grew louder, and the conversations around them swelled into a cacophony. Chelsea could feel herself shrinking by the minute, her pulse racing, the walls closing in on her. "I think we should go," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I can't—"

Joe nodded, his eyes full of understanding. "Okay, we can go," he said, cutting off her sentence. His hand on her waist guided her through the crowd, the murmurs and glances of their colleagues following them like a shadow. The cool night air hit Chelsea's face like a slap, bringing her back to reality as they stepped out of the grand hotel.

She was fidgety, uncharacteristically so, as they waited for the valet to bring Joe's car around. He could feel the tension radiating off her, her body stiff against his. "Chelsea, it's okay. They're just people, they'll get over it," Joe tried to comfort her, his voice low and steady.

She didn't respond. Lips tightly pressed together, Chelsea stared into the distance, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. The valet pulled up, and Joe opened the door for her, his hand lingering on the small of her back as she slid into the seat. He knew her well enough to recognize the signs of an impending breakdown.

The drive back to her temporary apartment was filled with tension. Chelsea's silence was deafening, and Joe felt his heart racing, wondering if he had made a mistake by accompanying her tonight. They had both known it would be tough, but he had hoped the excitement of their new life together would outweigh the judgmental stares, outweigh the whispers.

When they finally arrived, Chelsea bolted from the car before Joe could even turn off the engine. He followed her through the lobby, her heels clacking against the marble as she rushed inside. The elevator opened for them, and she stepped in, her eyes avoiding his. The ride up to their floor was uncomfortably silent, the air thick with unspoken accusations and hurt feelings.

Once inside her apartment, she let out a frustrated sigh and kicked off her shoes, her eyes brimming with tears. "I can't do this," she said, her voice shaking. "I can't be the other woman, Joe. It's not who I am. I've worked too hard to build this career, to have people look at me like that."

Joe stepped closer, his own emotions a tempestuous sea. "You're not the other woman, Chelsea," he said, his voice firm. "You're the woman I love. And I'm not asking you to hide or be someone you're not. But we can't change who we are or what's happened. All we can do is move forward together."

If she heard him, she didn't process his words. She stormed off to the bathroom, the undecorated walls echoing her pain. Joe knew better than to follow her immediately. He took a deep breath, loosening his tie, and leaned against the wall. His jacket of his suit felt like it was suffocating him, a symbol of the expectations he had failed to meet.

The bathroom door remained closed, but Chelsea's sobs echoed through the barrier. The sound pierced through the walls, resonating with Joe's own guilt. He had promised her a life without the shackles of their past, but here they were, entangled in the mess of their choices. He knew their relationship would be scrutinized, but he didn't anticipate the impact it would have on her self-worth.

He took off his shoes and wandered into the living room, his eyes scanning the boxes that still littered the floor. Their whirlwind romance had led to a hasty move-in, Chelsea surrendering the territory of her home to Terrence, choosing to start fresh in a studio downtown, just a few minutes from her firm. It was smaller than she had grown used to since college, having already been married to Terrence by the time she entered law school a decade ago. Joe had no intention of moving in anytime soon. Instead, he was quietly searching for the perfect place for them to start over whenever they were ready.

The sound of her sobs coming to a slow stop brought him back to reality. He took a deep breath and approached the bathroom door, gently knocking. "Chelsea?" he called out, his voice low and soothing. "You okay?"

There was a moment of silence before she opened the door, silent tears still glistening on her cheeks. She stepped into his embrace, allowing him to hold her close as she cried. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his chest, "I just... can you help me out of my dress, I can't reach the zipper."

Joe nodded, his heart heavy with the burden of her pain. He unzipped her dress and helped her step out of it, his gentle touch a stark contrast to the harsh reality they were now facing. "Let's get you into something more comfortable," he murmured, guiding her to the bed.

Chelsea slipped into a pair of soft pajamas, her body still trembling from the evening's events. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. "I'm sorry, I look like a mess," she sighed, wiping at the stray mascara that had smeared under her eyes.

Joe sat beside her, his own emotions a tangled web of love, guilt, and fear. "You don't have to apologize for being upset," he said, taking her hand in his. "What happened tonight isn't on you. We knew this would be tough."

Chelsea nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I just can't shake the feeling that I've ruined everything I've worked so hard for," she whispered. "My colleagues, my reputation..."

Joe squeezed her hand. "You haven't ruined anything, Chelsea. You've made a choice to be happy. That's not a crime." He paused, pulling her face to rest against his shoulder. "But I understand how you feel. We'll get through this together, I promise."

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a blanket. Chelsea felt the weight of Joe's words, and gradually, the tears subsided. "I need you to do something for me, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way," she said finally.

"Anything," Joe responded, his voice a gentle rumble against her ear.

Chelsea took a deep breath. "I need to be alone tonight. Just for a little while. To think, to process everything."

He could feel his heart sink as she pulled away from him, the warmth of her body leaving a cold emptiness in its place. "Okay," Joe said, his voice tight. "If that's what you need." His eyes searched hers, looking for a hint of doubt, but all he saw was determination. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he stood up and began to dress.

As he walked to the door, Chelsea's voice stopped him. "Thank you," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Joe turned, his eyes full of unspoken words. "You don't have to apologize," he replied, untrusting of his own words to say much more. With one last look, he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

The click of the lock was like a gunshot in the quiet, and Chelsea felt the finality of their conversation resonate through her. She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of her new life with Joe, her career, and the inevitable whispers that would follow their every move. The walls of her apartment felt like they were closing in, and she realized she had never felt so exposed and alone in such a crowded city.

That sad insistence that she had worked too hard to be reduced to a stereotype, to be seen as just another woman who couldn't keep her husband, haunted her. It was a narrative that she had always feared, and now, it was knocking at the door of her newfound happiness with Joe. Her career was her sanctuary, the one place where she felt in control, but now, she wondered if it would ever be the same. Would her colleagues look at her with pity or contempt? Would they whisper behind her back about the scandalous affair that had ended her marriage?

She figured it was symbolic of her new freedom that she was now requesting Joe to stay away, after fighting so hard to break free from Terrence's embrace. But she needed the solitude to sort through the chaos in her head. She needed to come to terms with the fact that their love story was no fairy tale; it was messy, filled with infidelity and heartbreak.

As much as she tried to ignore it, they had hurt people. Terrence's heart was shattered, and even though Joe had promised her that Gianna knew about his infidelity and had accepted it, Chelsea couldn't shake the guilt that clung to her like a second skin. She knew that their relationship would be under a microscope, scrutinized by everyone they knew, and possibly even by strangers who knew more about them than Chelsea would like. But this feeling, this  one she had when Joe held her, the way he looked at her, it was like nothing she had ever felt with Terrence. It was raw, it was real, and it was terrifying.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the blinds of her apartment, casting a warm glow on the cold reality of the day ahead. Chelsea checked her phone, expecting a message from Joe, but there was nothing. She told herself that he was probably just giving her space, but the doubt began to creep in. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he realized that he couldn't handle the drama that came with her. She took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the tasks at hand.

After a quick breakfast, she headed to work with a determination to keep her personal life from affecting her professional one. She knew the whispers would start eventually, but she was ready to face them with her head held high. As she walked through the gleaming lobby of her law firm, she couldn't help but feel like an imposter. Her heart raced, anticipating the judgmental glances and hushed conversations that would surely follow. But to her surprise, the day went by without incident. Her colleagues were either too polite or too busy to cast her in the role she feared most.

By the time she found the strength to send Joe a text, the sun had set and the city lights twinkled like distant stars.

Missed you today.

She typed. Her thumb hesitates over the send button. She took a deep breath and sent the text, startling when he responded almost immediately.

Couldn't stop thinking about you.

How are you feeling?

Her heart fluttered at his words.

Better.

She replied, deciding to keep the day's events to herself for now.

How about you?

Decent.

Joe responded.

Just dealing with the usual.

Miss you too.

She bit her lip nervously, thumbs hovering over the screen.

Do you want to come over tonight?

She finally asked, craving his comfort.

Dinner? We can talk.

Joe's response was swift.

I'd love to.

Give me an hour to wrap up here, and I'll be on my way.

Relief flooded Chelsea.

Perfect.

She replied with a smile.

I'll make something special.

We'll make something special.

He corrected her words. She could practically hear the smile in his voice, the slow drawl of that Midwestern ease dripping like honey from his pink lips.

I'll grab some wine on the way?

Sounds perfect.

She responded, her shoulders relaxing at the thought of a cozy evening in.

As she waited for Joe, Chelsea bustled around her apartment, setting the table with her best dishes and lighting candles to cast a warm glow over the space. She felt nervous, like a teenager before her first date, unsure of what the future held. Clammy hands smoothed down her matching loungewear set, a simple gray number that whispered sophistication and comfort. She had spent hours agonizing over the menu, finally settling on a roast chicken with herb-crusted potatoes and a side of greens—simple but delicious.

The door buzzer rang, and she took a deep breath before striding over to let Joe in. He looked as handsome as ever in his work slacks and a white button-down shirt, his arms laden with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine. The sight of him made her stomach flip-flop with excitement and anticipation. "You didn't have to," she said, taking the wine and setting it on the counter.

"I know," he replied, kissing her cheek. "But it's not every day I get to have a cozy night-in with my girlfriend."

The word 'girlfriend' hung in the air, a sweet promise of normalcy amidst the chaos of their situation. Chelsea took a moment to savor it, attempting to suppress the shy smile that tugged at her lips. Strong, capable hands found hers, pulling her into his chest as he whispered, "I was worried about you last night."

Her heart melted into his embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. "I just needed some time to think," she murmured. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Don't be," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I know this isn't easy for either of us." He brushed a lock of hair from her face, his eyes searching hers. "But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. When I said I was gonna be here for you, I meant that shit. You won't be able to get rid of me now, even if you tried."

They both laughed, the tension easing slightly. Chelsea felt the warmth of Joe's affection seep into her, filling the cracks that had formed in her heart. She took a step back, taking in the sight of him in her kitchen. "So?" she asked, changing the subject. "Girlfriend, huh? That's a big step for a man who's still technically married."

Joe's smile grew more earnest. "Yeah, it is," he agreed, placing the wine on the counter. "But I'm not letting you go, not now." He took her hands in his again, squeezing them gently. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it." He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand, those ocean blue eyes of his engulfing her in a sea of warmth.

"Well, let's not rush into any grand announcements just yet," Chelsea said, trying to keep her voice light, though her heart raced at his words. "I want to enjoy this, us, without thinking about what's next."

Joe nodded, understanding in his eyes. He knew she needed time to process everything, to feel secure in their newfound love before they faced the outside world. He kissed her forehead gently. "Okay, baby. We'll take it slow. But remember, I'm not going anywhere. You need comfort, I'm there. You need to talk, I'll listen."

Chelsea nodded as she swallowed back tears—happy tears this time. Warmth spread through her chest, simmering soft and slow, bubbling over with a decadence she hadn't felt in a long time. She leaned into Joe, feeling the solidity of him, the rhythm of his heart beating a steady drum against her. For a moment, everything was perfect.

Warmth spread to her face as he nudged her chin up to meet his eyes. Then he was leaning down, kissing her, and the whole world fell away. The taste of him was familiar yet new, a heady mix of comfort and excitement. His hands were everywhere—cupping her face, tracing her spine, pulling her by the waist.

He pulled away first, laughing softly as she followed his lips with a pout. "I'm starving," he murmured in that soft, gruff voice of his that never failed to make her insides melt. "What are you in the mood for?"

"I've got a chicken in the oven, do you mind starting on the potatoes? I'll get the greens going," Chelsea suggested, ignoring the flutter of her heart from the mundane domesticity of the evening.

Joe nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he set the roses down onto the counter, turning to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. "Hand me a knife," he said, rolling up his sleeves. Chelsea handed it to him, watching as he effortlessly peeled and chopped the potatoes with a confidence she had never seen him have in the kitchen before. It was a strange sight, seeing this powerful, in-control man in her space, doing something so ordinary.

"You're staring, babe," Joe said, catching her gaze with a teasing smile.

"Sorry," Chelsea said, meeting his gaze before paling away. "It's just... you look so at home."

Joe paused in his task, looking up at her with a knowing smile. "Does it make you feel warm and fuzzy? Seeing me all domesticated?"

Chelsea couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone. "It's just... I'm not used to seeing you like this. It's kind of hot, actually," she admitted, watching his muscles flex as he worked, white button-up rolled to his elbows.

"You should see me fold laundry," Joe said with a wink, making her laugh harder.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of laughter, the smell of roasting chicken and simmering greens filling the air. Chelsea felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a long time as they worked together in the kitchen. The conversation was light, but the connection was deep. They sat down to eat at her small dining table, the candles she lit flickering across their faces, casting a warm glow on their makeshift dinner for two.

As Joe told a story about sneaking out to his first high school party, Chelsea couldn't help but remember her first impression of him when they first met over a year ago: Old Hollywood handsome.

Crystal blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a charming smile had been the first things she noticed. Followed by the way he carried himself—so confident and self-assured, unflappable despite the difficult decisions he had been forced to make. Now, as she watched him laugh at his own antics, she realized she had fallen in love with the man behind the mask. His vulnerability was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the stoic exterior he was most comfortable presenting to the world.

They finished their meal, and Chelsea cleared the plates, placing them in the sink with a gentle clank. She turned to find Joe's eyes on her, a softness that she hadn't seen before. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For giving me this... this normalcy."

Chelsea felt her cheeks warm. "It's nothing," she said, shrugging off the praise. "We're just having dinner, like everyone else."

Joe stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. "But not everyone has you," he murmured, his breath tickling her neck. "I'm really lucky." Gentle hands moved her hair to the side, his face dipping down to kiss her neck.

Chelsea's heart fluttered, and she leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth and love surround her. She closed her eyes, letting the comfort of his arms wash over her. "I know it's not going to be easy," she whispered, "but I want this. I want us."

Joe's hands tightened around her waist. "I know, baby," he said, his voice low and earnest. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

She turned in his arms, her eyes searching his. "I love you," she said, soft and assured. The words felt right, like a puzzle piece that had finally clicked into place. He didn't respond right away, smiling slightly as he studied her.

"I love you too," Joe finally said, his voice thick with emotion. It was a declaration that seemed to hang in the air, weighty and real. He leaned in and kissed her, and she melted into him, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around her all over again. Their kiss grew deeper, more passionate, as the intensity of their confession grew.

Breaking apart, Joe kissed her nose, both of her cheeks, her chin, the corner of her mouth, before settling on her lips once more. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the glow of their confession. Chelsea felt the warmth spread, humming with satisfaction as he lifted her up, carrying her to her bedroom.

Chelsea fell back against the bedsheets with a sigh, feeling the heat of Joe's body pressed against hers. Her legs spread willingly as his hand trailed up her thigh, teasing the edge of her panties. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as she arched her back, urging him closer. The sound of his zipper echoed through the room, and she felt him push inside her, filling the emptiness that had plagued her for so long.

Whimpers and moans pressed through their lips, the headboard beginning to thump rhythmically against the wall. The world outside faded away, leaving only Joe and Chelsea, lost in the sanctity of their love.

Her head tilted back, allowing him access to her neck as he attached his lips to her burning skin. His hands roamed her body, re-exploring every curve and line, as if trying to commit her to memory. The feeling of his skin against hers was electric, setting her nerves alight with each caress. Chelsea's breath hitched as Joe's hand slipped down to her clit, whimpering almost helplessly as he coaxed her on in that drawl of his.

"Jesus, Chelsea," Joe groaned, his movements becoming more urgent. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Chelsea's eyes fluttered shut as she felt Joe's hand tighten on her hip, his other hand still playing with her clit, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. She could feel her orgasm approaching, a wave of pleasure that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. She grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she held on tightly.

"I'm gonna come," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe groaned, his eyes never leaving hers as he picked up the pace. "Come for me, baby," he murmured, his own climax building.

The wave broke, and Chelsea whimpered out, her body convulsing as the orgasm washed over her. She felt Joe's grip tighten even more, his own release following closely behind. They collapsed onto the bed, both panting and sweaty, their hearts racing in sync.

After a few moments, Joe pulled out and rolled onto his back, taking Chelsea with him. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. He wrapped an arm around her, his fingers soothing small circles into her skin as he sighed contentedly. Chelsea laid a peck to his collarbone before rising out of bed to clean herself up. He followed after her, taking silent turns in the bathroom, the easy domesticity from earlier bleeding into this moment of post-coital bliss. His hand brushing past her waist, her back leaning against his chest, it all felt so natural.

"Are you staying the night?" fell from her lips as his arms wrapped around her. Chelsea allowed her shoulders to relax, exhaling with a deep sigh.

He nodded in the mirror, his reflection showing a gentle smile. "If that's what you want, of course," he said, kissing the bit of skin that peeked out from underneath the collar of the t-shirt she threw on during her stumble to the bathroom.

"It's what I want," she whispered, turning to face him. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation, but found only love and reassurance. Joe pulled her closer, his warmth seeping into her as they stood in the bathroom's soft glow. "Stay," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her again.

They curled up in bed, the cool sheets wrapping around their sweat-slicked bodies. Chelsea felt the tension of the day melt away with each of Joe's gentle strokes on her back. As the night grew deeper, their whispers grew softer, until all that remained was the steady rhythm of their breathing.

Dissolution. That was what Joe and Gianna had agreed to: a mutual decision, a signed separation agreement, and a dissolution petition. It was supposed to be simple, they both thought. But as the days dragged into weeks and the weeks into months, it became clear that nothing about their unraveling marriage was straightforward.

Joe glanced at his watch, his leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he waited for Gianna to walk through the door. They had arranged to meet with their respective lawyers today to finalize the details of their divorce. It had been five months since Joe last saw Gianna. The celebrity chef had thrown herself into work, bouncing from show to show, flying around the world to add to her culinary repertoire. To the untrained eye, it seemed benign, but to Joe and the murmurs of worry his parents echoed from their brief conversations with Gianna's parents, it was clear she was running from something. But Joe couldn't blame her.

"We've been waiting for 10 minutes," his lawyer, Audrey, said with a sigh, checking her own watch. "Any indication she'll show up?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah, she'll be here. She's just... it's Gianna. She'll be here."

Dalton, a gruff redheaded man with a perpetual five o'clock shadow, stepped back into the room, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "I can't reach her. Maybe she's stuck in traffic?"

Joe's stomach knotted. It wasn't like Gianna to be this unprofessional. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional cough from Audrey. Just as he resolved to attempt to call her, she came stumbling in. All of a sudden, Joe was reliving every moment of their relationship. The way she looked when she was stressed, the way her eyes searched the room for something to anchor her when she was overwhelmed. But today, there was something else, the realization that eleven years of marriage were coming to an end in this cold conference room.

There were three things most people immediately understood about Gianna. The first was her magnetism, a vibrant energy that drew people in and spun them around, leaving them dizzy with elation in her wake. The second was her easy collectedness. Joe couldn't remember ever seeing her frazzled, she was always punctual, easygoing with a bright smile. The third was her beauty, a beauty that was both effortless and deliberate. So when she stumbled into the conference room, her cheeks flushed and her hair a wild mess, Joe knew something was seriously wrong.

"Sorry! Sorry, I overslept," Gianna gushed, her breathing ragged as she took her seat across the table from Joe. She looked flustered, her full, dark curls disheveled in a way that made Joe's heart ache. The sight of her, so obviously distressed, brought a rush of memories and emotions that he had been trying so hard to keep at bay.

Her lawyer, Dalton, cleared his throat, looking equally surprised by her demeanor. "Well, let's get started, shall we?" He shuffled his papers, glancing between Joe and Gianna with a practiced neutrality.

Joe's heart was racing, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of her sudden erratic behavior. "You okay?" he whispered, leaning in slightly.

Gianna took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to him briefly before focusing on her clasped hands in her lap. "Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured, a hint of irritation in her voice. "Just flew in late."

The meeting began, the lawyers exchanging pleasantries before diving into the nitty-gritty of their assets and the terms of their separation. The split was easy enough: Joe would get the winery, and Gianna would keep the restaurant. Joe would remain an investor in her merchandising line, ensuring she had financial support without them being entangled in each other's finances. But as the discussion grew more intense, Gianna's agitation grew palpable. She fidgeted in her chair, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lawyers concluded their initial points. "If there's nothing else," Dalton began, but was quickly interrupted by Gianna. "Wait, there's something I need to say." She took a deep breath, her knuckles white as she gripped the armrests.

Joe leaned forward, his stomach twisting into a knot. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Joe," Gianna started, her voice shaky, "I need to tell you something. Can we speak outside for a moment?"

Joe nodded, his curiosity and concern piqued. They stepped into the hallway, the silence stretching like a tightrope between them. She took a deep breath, her eyes avoiding his gaze. "I've been writing a memoir," she blurted out, the words hanging in the air like shrapnel. "My agent says it's going to be big. It's about... everything. Our marriage, my career, being in the public eye."

Joe felt the blood drain from his face. "Does it include...us?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

Gianna looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't write about my life without including you. But Joe, I want you to know, I haven't been totally honest with you. There's things I talk about in the book... things I've done that you don't know about."

The confession hung heavy in the air, and Gianna looked away. Joe's expression remained stoic, a wall she couldn't penetrate. "What things?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"I was unfaithful too," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It was before...before everything with you and Chelsea. But it's in there. It's part of my story."

Joe felt the world tilt on its axis. "What?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

Gianna nodded, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's a lot to take in," she said, her voice shaking. "But I had to tell you before it all comes out. Before it's too late and you're blindsided. I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

Joe felt the blood drain from his face, his mind racing. "When? How long?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Up until a week before you came clean," Gianna replied, her voice heavy with regret. "It was with a producer from the network. We met on my trip to Patras. I thought it was a one-time thing but it kept happening, and I couldn't stop seeing him."

Joe felt his stomach churn, the room spinning around him. He would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting something like this, but the actuality of it was like a sledgehammer to his chest. That trip to Patras, Greece took place nearly three years ago, right when he had started to feel the cracks in their marriage. For years he had held onto the idea that their issues were solely his fault, that he had been the one to pull away. He forced himself to believe that if he had just been a better husband, their marriage could have been saved. Now, as he sat across from the woman he had shared his life with, the truth was laid bare—they were both guilty of the same sins.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was tight, a mix of disbelief and betrayal.

"Because I was scared," she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Scared of losing you, scared of losing everything we had built together. And when I found out about you and Chelsea, I thought maybe it was the writing on the wall. It felt like a get out of jail free card, a way to atone for my mistakes."

Joe stared at her, his expression a tumult of emotions. "You lied to me. You fucked around and didn't even have the guts to tell me?" The anger in his voice was palpable, the room seemingly closing in around them. "Is that why you were acting so weird when I told you?"

Gianna's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I knew that it would be hypocritical, but I didn't know how to tell you. I thought if you found out, it would be easier if it was part of a larger story, one that showed us both as imperfect."

Joe began to pace before her. "So you're going to air all of our dirty laundry in this book? For what? Closure?" His voice grew louder, the anger bubbling over. "When was the last time you saw your parents? Did you think about what this will do to them?"

Gianna looked down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "I'm sorry, Joe," she said, her voice breaking. "But I had to tell the truth. I owe it to myself, to us, to everyone who's ever believed in us."

Joe's eyes searched hers, trying to find some semblance of the woman he had once loved. "What about your career?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I can take the fallout, but your restaurant... your show... this could ruin everything you've worked for."

Gianna sniffled, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope. "Maybe it's time for a new chapter," she said, her voice shaky. "Maybe this is the push I need to finally be honest with everyone, including myself."

Joe nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "If that's what you truly want, I'll support you," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "We should head back." He didn't wait for her to acknowledge him, simply turning around and walking back to the conference room, shoulders stiff, jaw set. The lawyers looked at them with a mix of exhaustion and curiosity.

As they signed papers, Joe felt as if he was trudging through fog. The words on the documents blurred together, his mind racing with the revelations of the day. The weight of their shared secrets had shifted the foundation of their marriage, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Their lawyers' voices grew distant as Joe and Gianna exchanged glances, both lost in their own world of regret and recrimination. The room was cold, the silence punctuated only by the scratch of pens and the occasional clearing of a throat.

And then it was done. The lawyers exchanged polite nods and the papers were filed away. Joe felt a strange mix of relief and dread as he walked out of the office. The reality of their divorce was now etched in legal ink, a stark reminder of the life they had built together, now being dismantled. The penthouse he kept in the city felt empty as he rode the elevator up to it, the echoes of their past laughter and arguments haunting the walls.

Gianna had been surprisingly calm, her eyes never quite meeting his as she signed her name, line by line, sealing the fate of their marriage. Her secret had been the catalyst for their unraveling, but Joe couldn't help but wonder if it had been festering beneath the surface all along. They had been two people playing roles, living in a house of cards that had finally collapsed under the weight of their own truths.

He closed the door behind him, jaw clenched tight as he took in the stray boxes and half-empty rooms. The penthouse had become a reflection of his own life: cold and empty. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, his hand trembling slightly as he twisted off the cap. The cool liquid washed down his throat, but did little to ease the turmoil in his chest.

He missed when life was simpler. When the biggest challenge was deciding what to watch on Netflix rather than navigating the treacherous waters of a failed marriage being presented to him in a new light. He missed being the diligent husband, the provider, the man who had it all figured out. But as he took a long swig of his beer, he knew that wasn't who he was anymore. He was a man in love with another woman, a man who had chosen to break free from a stagnant life that had slipped away from him without his knowledge.

He figured the most upsetting part was that he couldn't even bring himself to be angry. He was just tired. Tired of the lies, the deceit, the feeling that he had been living a lie. The penthouse that had once been a symbol of his success now felt like a prison cell, each room holding a memory that had been tainted by their infidelities.

He needed to get out of there, to clear his head. Without bothering to change, Joe grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator. The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the penthouse. He got into his car and drove aimlessly, letting the streets of Cincinnati guide him. The lights seemed to blend together until he found himself turning into Chelsea's complex.

She wasn't home yet, the time on his dashboard read 5:15 PM. He knew she would be back soon, probably from some meeting or dinner with her colleagues. His chilled beer dripped condensation into the cupholder as he leaned back in his seat. The silence outside was pierced only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed before Chelsea was knocking on his window, concern etched on her beautiful face. He rolled it down, the smell of her perfume wafting into the car. She looked tired, but the sight of her washed peace over him like a gentle wave. She slid into the passenger seat, her eyes searching his for answers.

"How did it go?" she asked, her voice tentative. He leaned over, his lips lingering against hers as he took in the warmth of her presence. Her featherlight touch brushed through the hairs at the nape of his neck, gentle eyes holding his gaze.

Joe took a deep breath, his heart racing as he spoke. "It's done," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gianna and I are...we're officially divorced."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of pain or doubt. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice gentle and soothing.

Joe took another deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "She told me something today," he began, his voice still heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Something that I didn't know." He paused, looking at Chelsea with a mix of confusion and regret. "Gianna had an affair too."

The silence in the car grew thick, Chelsea's eyes widening in shock. "What?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you serious?"

Joe nodded, his expression a storm of emotions. "Yeah," he said, his voice ragged. "She's writing a memoir. It's all in there—her affair, our divorce, the whole mess. She's going to tell the world." He took a long pull from his beer, his hand trembling slightly. "It's like we're characters in some tragic ass love story."

Chelsea reached over to squeeze his hand. "Oh, baby," she said, her voice soothing, "I'm sorry. Did she give you details?"

Joe's grip tightened around the bottle. "Yeah," he said, his jaw clenched. "It lasted almost three years. Some producer guy she met on one of her shows. She claims it ended a week before she found out about us."

Chelsea felt the weight of his words. "Three years? And you didn't know?"

Joe shrugged, his eyes on the road ahead. "Guess I didn't want to see it," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "But it's over now. Just gotta wait for your divorce to finalize, and then we can start fresh."

"Is there anything I can do?" Chelsea offered, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Booze, a rage room..." she trailed off, biting her lip before whispering, "a blowjob?" suggestively.

Joe chuckled darkly. "That’s sweet, but I'm not sure anything can fix this shit right now." He took a deep breath and glanced at her. "I do have a few things to ask you, though."

Chelsea leaned in, her eyes searching his. "You know I'd do anything for you," she whispered, her hand still playing with his hair. A soft dusking of pink spread across the bridge of his nose as the effects of the alcohol and her touch soothed his nerves.

"I know," Joe murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're so good to me." His voice dropped, eyes flicking down to her lips before he pressed a series of gentle kisses along her neck. "Thank you for sticking by me through all of this. Being so sweet and understanding. I’m so lucky I get to love you."

"Focus," she laughed, gently pushing him away. "What did you want to ask me?"

Joe took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on her lips before meeting her eyes. "Three things. I want us to go on a real date. You know, not one of those 'we're just friends who happen to be at the same place at the same time' dates. A real, honest-to-god date where we can be together without hiding."

Chelsea felt a thrill run through her. It had been so long since she'd felt that giddy excitement of early romance. "I'd love that," she said, smiling up at him. "Where do you want to take me?"

"Somewhere simple," Joe said, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "Somewhere we can just be ourselves without worrying about running into someone we know." He took her hand, his thumb tracing circles against her palm. "Secondly, I want you to meet my parents."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. "Your parents?"

"Yeah," Joe said, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "I know your parents are still processing everything, so if it's too painful or weird for you, we can wait. But they want to meet you, and I think it's important we start building a life together."

Earnest blue eyes searched hers for any sign of hesitation. Chelsea took a deep breath, her heart racing with excitement and a hint of trepidation. "Okay, let's do it," she said, smiling up at him. "I'll work on my parents, see if they'll be open to meeting you."

"Great," Joe said, his eyes lighting up with relief. "And the third thing is... I know it's a little soon, but I'm looking for a place. A smaller place, something that feels like it could be ours. Away from the city, maybe? What do you think?"

Chelsea's heart fluttered at the thought. A home together, free of the shadows of their past lives. "That sounds amazing," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "I'm tired of these high rises, anyway. Somewhere cozy, with a yard, maybe?"

Joe nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. Somewhere we can build memories. Maybe even get a cat," he teased.

Chelsea laughed, the tension in the room dissipating. "A cat, huh? I thought you'd be a dog person," she said, her smile wide and playful.

"Nah," Joe said, his grin growing, "I've always had a soft spot for cats. They're low maintenance, like me."

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Sure, if that's what you call leaving your socks everywhere and forgetting to take out the trash," she teased, her voice light and teasing.

Joe chuckled. "Hey, I'm not that bad." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "But seriously, I want to find a place where we can start fresh." His voice grew softer. "A place where we can be ourselves without worrying about what anyone else thinks."

Chelsea's heart fluttered at the thought. "That sounds perfect," she said, her voice filled with longing. "Something new, just for us."

"We can start looking whenever you're ready," Joe said, bringing her knuckles up to his lips and kissing them gently. "But for now, you should probably get out of here. I know you had a long day, I just wanted to see you."

She leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but Joe pulled her closer, deepening it. When they parted, she was left feeling both breathless and slightly dizzy. "Come upstairs," she whispered, her voice filled with want. "At the very least, you're buzzed from the beer, right?"

Joe grinned, his eyes darkening with lust. "I'm definitely buzzed," he said, pulling her in for another kiss. "But I also don't want to keep you up all night."

Chelsea laughed, the tension of the day dissipating. "All night? That's a bold claim." She responded, the two of them exiting his car before her hand was in his, leading him to the elevator. "I only had a blowjob in mind."

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wicked. "Is that all?" He playfully nudged her into the elevator and pressed the button to her floor. The doors slid shut with a gentle 'ping', and they were left alone in the intimate space. Chelsea's heart raced as Joe stepped closer, their kisses growing more urgent as the elevator ascended.

When they reached her floor, they stumbled out into the hallway, barely breaking apart. Chelsea fumbled with her keys, eager to get him inside. As she unlocked the door, she felt Joe's hands on her hips, his breath hot against her neck. "I want to feel you," he murmured, his voice low and needy.

Chelsea couldn't tell up from down as she straddled Joe in her sparsely furnished living room. She felt herself melt into his arms, kisses feverish and needy. Her hands roamed his broad chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his shoulders. His scent filled her, a heady mix of cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flip.

She moaned under his touch, her hips grinding down into his, guided by a need for desperate, passionate that had been simmering for weeks. Their clothes fell away, a tangle of fabric on the floor, leaving them bare and vulnerable in the soft light of the evening. Joe's teeth nipped at her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"Blowjob," she reminded him between kisses, her voice breathless and playful. Joe chuckled, his hands sliding down to her waist, "Is that really what you want right now?"

Her eyes locked onto his, a spark of challenge in their depths. "Just relax," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. He grinned, leaning back to give her space. Chelsea slid down his body, her mouth watering at the sight of him already hard and ready. She slipped his boxers off, taking his length into her warm, wet mouth. Joe's head fell back, a groan escaping his lips as she began to suck and tease him. Her tongue swirled around the tip, her hands gripping the base of his shaft. His hips began to thrust slightly, urging her on as she took him deeper.

Her lashes fluttered as her eyes lifted to meet his gaze, a teasing laugh erupting from her as she pulled back to kitten lick his tip. "Don't look at me like that," he groaned, his hands finding their way to her hair, guiding her movements. Chelsea took him back in, her eyes never leaving his, indulging in the way his chest heaved with every intake of breath. His thighs tensed and his breath hitched as she picked up the pace, her hand stroking in time with her mouth.

She licked a slow stripe up his shaft, smiling when she felt the vein pulse under her tongue. His hands tightened in her hair as she took him in again, deeper this time, her cheeks hollowing with effort. Chelsea savored the moan that vibrated through him as he hit the back of her throat, feeling his thighs quiver with restraint.

"Fuck, Chels, just like that," Joe groaned, his eyes half-closed as he watched her work her magic. The sight of her mouth wrapped around him was more than he could handle. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure mounting with every stroke of her tongue.

Chelsea looked up at him, a glint in her eye, and took him out of her mouth with a wet pop. "You like that?" she teased, stroking him gently with her hand.

"Fuck, yes," Joe managed, his voice strained. "Don't stop."

With a wicked grin, Chelsea took him back into her mouth, her hand working in tandem with her lips, her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. She could feel him getting closer, his hips starting to thrust in a rhythm she knew so well. She took him deeper, her eyes watering slightly as she fought her gag reflex. Joe's groans grew louder, more desperate, until finally, with a strangled whine, he came. She swallowed, her eyes stuck on his, watching the pleasure wash over his face.

He collapsed back onto the couch, panting. "Fuck, Chelsea," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

"Feel better?" she asked, her thumb gently wiping at the corner of her mouth.

"Mm," Joe nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "So much better." He reached for her, pulling her into his lap. "Let me return the favor, make you feel good," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

"As much as I'd love that," she began, hands holding Joe's jaw steady as he groaned with anticipation, "I have some work to finish up. We picked up a new client at the firm."

Joe leaned back into the couch, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment. "I can be quick," he offered with a mischievous grin, his hands sliding up her thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties.

"As tempting as that is," Chelsea said, placing her hand over his before shifting them to a more appropriate spot, "I have to get this done. But I promise I'll make it up to you." She kissed him lightly before she slid off his lap, walking away with a sway that made Joe's eyes follow her movements as she collected her clothes.

Joe couldn't help the smirk that played on his lips. He watched her pull on her skirt and blouse, her professional armor back in place, smiling when she handed him his discarded boxers. "I could order in," he offered, standing to dress himself.

"Sounds perfect," Chelsea said, her eyes lighting up at the idea of not having to cook. She grabbed her laptop and settled at the dining table, a warm buzz of arousal still lingering. As she worked, she could feel Joe's eyes on her, his desire not entirely sated. She focused on the screen, trying to push her thoughts back to the legal documents in front of her.

The aroma of Szechuan takeout filled the air as the delivery arrived, and they sat together, their legs intertwined under the table. The candles cast a soft glow over their dinner, creating an intimate atmosphere despite the chaos of the day. They talked about their plans for the weekend—a hike in the nearby mountains, a movie marathon, and maybe even looking at some small houses in the area.

Chelsea felt a sense of contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time. Despite the turmoil that had led them to this point, she knew that Joe was the right choice for her. He understood her, accepted her flaws, and was willing to fight for their love. By the time she curled into him, his bare skin warm and comforting against hers, eyes struggling to stay open, she could feel the earlier tension in his body dissipating.

For as long as Chelsea could remember, she feared her parents. Lee and Shayla Washington had high expectations for their only child. They had groomed her to marry a man of equal social standing, one who could provide a life of luxury and prestige. Terrence Brooks had been their dream son-in-law—handsome, successful, and an MD at that. Joe wasn't far off from their vision—a very successful CFO, but the stigma of his previous marriage to a celebrity, chef or otherwise, was something she wasn't sure they would be able to shake.

The ringtone of the outgoing call to her mother filled Chelsea with dread. She knew the conversation that was about to unfold would not be an easy one. She had rehearsed her words over and over, trying to find the right balance between honesty and respect. Her heels clicked against the floor as she paced back and forth, waiting for the line to connect. Instead of using her hour lunch break to grab something to eat, she found herself hiding in her office, the door locked firmly behind her.

"Hello?" her mother's voice was sharp, almost as if she knew what was coming.

"Hey, Momma," Chelsea began, her voice a little shaky. "How are y'all doing?"

"We're fine, honey." Her mother's tone was measured, hinting at the unspoken question of why she was calling during the workday.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her heart hammering against her chest. "I know we haven't spoken much since I told you and Daddy about Terrence and I," she said carefully, trying to keep her voice steady. "But I'd like for us to sit down and talk about it."

Her mother's sigh was heavy with disappointment. "Chelsea, darling, I'm not the one who needs convincing. I saw the way you and Joe looked at each other. I knew you and Terrence were going through something, so I wasn't surprised when you told us."

The words hit Chelsea like a ton of bricks. She had hoped to ease her mother into the conversation, but it seemed the woman was already a step ahead. "What do you mean, 'the way we looked at each other'?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of accusation.

Her mother's tone was gentle, almost pitying. "You can't hide love, Chelsea."

The revelation stung, but Chelsea pushed ahead, "Well, I want you and Dad to formally meet Joe. He's important to me, and I want all of us to have an honest conversation."

Her mother was silent for a moment before she spoke, her voice measured as she repeated herself, "Chelsea, I'm not the one you need to convince." She paused, the line crackling with unspoken words. "You need to speak to your father. He's the one who's having a hard time with this. He loved Terrence like a son."

Chelsea felt a twinge of anxiety. Her father had always been the strict one, the one who had high expectations for his only child. She knew that his disapproval would cut deeper than her mother's gentle disappointment. "Okay, I'll call him," she said, swiping at a tear that had escaped her eye.

"Your daddy loves you, baby," her mother assured her, "and he'll come around. Just talk to him. He misses you."

Her mother's words hung in the air, a faint echo of hope in the face of an impending storm. Chelsea nodded, trying to believe her. After they said their goodbyes, she sat at her desk, staring at the phone. The conversation with her father had been inevitable, but she had been avoiding it. She took a deep breath, her hand trembling as she dialed his number.

"Hey, Dad," she began, her voice small and tentative. Her heart was racing as the line connected, the silence stretching out like a tightrope between them.

"Chelsea," he greeted, gruffly. "Been a while. Nice to hear from you."

Her stomach flipped. She didn't know how to start, so she took the plunge. "Dad, I know you're upset, and I understand that. But, I had to make a decision for my own happiness. Terrence and I are getting a divorce. End of story." She paused, waiting for his reaction.

The silence was deafening. Chelsea could hear his breathing, slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to keep his temper in check. "Chelsea, you are my only child. But, I love you too much to allow you to believe your happiness is more important than your legacy," her father finally said, his voice tight with emotion.

Her chest constricted. "Dad, I love you too. And I've never wanted to disappoint you. But I can't live my life trying to make you proud if it means being miserable."

"You think cheating on your husband and moving in with another man is going to make you happy?" His words were like knives, slicing through the phone line and into her heart. "After everything we've built, you're going to throw it away for this... this infatuation?"

Chelsea took a deep breath, her grip tightening on the phone. "This is much deeper than Terrence and Joe, Dad. Every single second of my life has been about your dreams, living up to what you and Mom have told me I should be. And for 34 years of my life, I have been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect wife. Yet, all it's gotten me is a hollow marriage and a reflection that I don't recognize."

Her father's voice grew softer. "I never meant for you to feel trapped. We just wanted you to have the best life, to marry someone who could provide for you."

"Dad," Chelsea said, her voice trembling. "I need more than just material security. I need to be with someone who values me for more than my pedigree or the status of my last name. I know you love Terrence but he wasn't the right fit for me. Not if I'm being honest with myself."

Her father's silence on the other end was deafening. She could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, trying to process the information she had just laid out for him. "It's that neighbor we met in August, isn't it?" he finally asked.

"It's him," Chelsea replied, her voice firm. "I want you to officially meet him, Dad. His name is Joe. He's a business executive for a tech company, he's kind, he's smart, and he makes me happy. I know it's not what you pictured, but I think you'll like him."

Her father's sigh was heavy and long. "I don't know what to say, Chelsea. This is all so... unexpected."

"If you're worried he's not good enough for me, let me figure that out on my own," Chelsea said, her voice gaining strength. "But if you care about my happiness, then give him a chance."

"Alright," he finally conceded. "Your mother seems to like him. I'll hold off on judging until I get to know him better. But Chelsea, promise me you're doing this for the right reasons."

Chelsea felt a weight lift off her chest. "I am, Dad. I promise. I just want to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

Her father's voice softened. "Okay. I know I raised you to be strong. I just want the best for you, you know that."

"Thank you, Dad," Chelsea said, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. She knew the conversation was far from over, but at least she had planted the seed of acceptance. After they hung up, she released a deep breath and flopped down onto her chair, the tension draining from her body. She stared at the wall, contemplating her next move.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced at her watch, realizing she had lost track of time. Her lunch break was over, and the pile of paperwork on her desk beckoned. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and straightened her skirt before opening the door.

It was one of the more experienced senior partners, an older woman from Columbus named Jaclynn, with a cup of coffee and a concerned expression. "You okay?" she asked, handing her the cup. "You've had the door closed for ages."

"Yeah," Chelsea said, taking the coffee gratefully. "Just had a long call with my dad."

Jaclynn's eyebrows furrowed. "Is everything all right? You've been a bit preoccupied since you rushed out of the gala early."

Chelsea nodded, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "It's a very long story, unfortunately. But I appreciate you checking in on me." Jaclynn's eyes searched hers, and Chelsea knew she wasn't ready to let it go.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she offered, her voice gentle. "I've been through a divorce myself. It's not easy, especially with the work we do, and the personality you need to do it. It's hard feeling like you've failed at something."

Chelsea hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of confiding in a colleague. But something in Jaclynn's eyes made her feel safe, and she found herself spilling the details of her tumultuous year and a half—the move-in, her failed marriage, Joe, and the gala fiasco. Jaclynn listened intently, her expression shifting from surprise to empathy.

"Wow, Chelsea," Jaclynn said, her eyes wide with astonishment once Chelsea had finished her story. "I had no idea you've been going through all that." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "But honestly, all I can tell you is to do what makes you happy. Fuck what everyone else thinks. You've been an amazing addition to the firm, and I've seen firsthand how hard you work. Don't let anyone's judgy stares bring you down."

The genuine support from an unexpected corner of the office was like a warm embrace, and Chelsea felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She laughed, a real laugh, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Thanks, Jaclynn. I needed to hear that."

Jaclynn offered a knowing smile. "And just remember, everyone's got their own shit to deal with. They're probably more concerned with keeping their own secrets than judging yours."

Chelsea nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie she hadn't experienced in the office before. "You're right. Thank you, really."

Jaclynn stood, collecting her things. "Listen, I know it's tough, but you've got this. And if you ever need anything, I'm here." She gave Chelsea's arm a squeeze before heading back to her office.

The squeaky wheels of the metal shopping part echoed down the aisle, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on Joe's stoic face as he navigated the supermarket. Chelsea, a few aisles over, was engrossed in reading the labels on various organic snacks. Taking advantage of a rare, mutual day off, they decided to go grocery shopping together. Embracing the mundane breathed casual intimacy into their relationship, the stress of their jobs momentarily forgotten in search of the perfect avocado.

As Joe rounded the corner with a cart of protein bars and almond milk, in search of Chelsea, his eyes widened. There, in the produce section, was Terrence Brooks, a pair of glasses on the strong bridge of his nose. His own cart carried a reasonable representation of the food pyramid, all organic choices, just like Chelsea. Joe paused, considering his options—turn around, avoid the confrontation, or face the man whose life he had irrevocably changed. But as the universe had a way of doing, Terrence looked up and noticed him, his eyebrows shot up.

For a brief moment, the air grew thick with tension, as if the very molecules of the supermarket were straining under the weight of the unspoken words. Then, with a heavy exhale, Terrence pushed his cart forward, a grim determination etched in his features. Chelsea, blissfully unaware of the impending collision, turned the corner and her eyes widened, freezing her in place. She had hoped to avoid this moment for a while longer, but it seemed fate had other plans.

"Terrence," Chelsea called out, her voice a mix of surprise and resignation. Terrence stopped, his grip on the cart tightening. The three of them faced each other, Joe and Chelsea on one side, Terrence on the other, a frozen tableau of a life that once was.

Terrence took a step forward, his eyes still locked on Joe's. "Chelsea," he said, his voice tight. Chelsea swallowed hard, glancing at Joe, whose eyes never left Terrence's. "What are you doing here?" Terrence demanded, his jaw clenched.

Joe suppressed a scoff, his hands rising in a placating gesture. "Just grocery shopping," he said evenly. "Didn't expect to run into you, man."

"Clearly," Terrence spat, his eyes flitting to the groceries in Joe's cart. "Couldn't leave that to your assistant?"

Joe felt a flare of anger but kept his voice calm. "I can handle my own shopping, thanks."

Terrence's gaze flicked to Chelsea, his expression a toxic mix of pain and anger. "So, this is it then," he said, his voice low. "You're just going to flaunt this in my face?"

Chelsea took a step towards Terrence, her voice firm. "Terrence, this isn't the place for this."

Terrence's eyes narrowed, his grip on the shopping cart tightening. "You're damn right it's not," he spat. "I can't believe you have the audacity to show your face around here with him."

Joe stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "Terrence, we're all just trying to move on. No need to make this more difficult than it already is."

Terrence's gaze remained on Chelsea. "You think you can just replace me?" he hissed, the words cutting through the air like a knife. "Eight years, Chelsea. Eight years of marriage and this is what you do to me?"

Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am just grocery shopping, Terrence. You're the one making a scene." She glanced around, noticing the curious stares of other shoppers.

Terrence's eyes searched hers, desperation and anger battling for dominance. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "You're pathetic," he murmured, low and bitter.

Chelsea felt a sting of hurt, but she knew better than to engage. She stepped closer to Joe, her hand finding its way into his. "Let's go," she whispered, tugging him gently. "It's not worth it."

But Joe didn't budge. He stared at Terrence, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and resolve. "Terrence," he said calmly, "you're hurt, and I get it. But that's not my problem anymore. Chelsea's happy with me, and if you really cared about her, you'd accept that."

"You want me to accept this? I lost my wife because of your mid-life crisis, and you want me to accept that?" Terrence's voice grew harsher, the aisle around them growing quieter as other shoppers pretended not to listen. Chelsea cringed, feeling the eyes on them. "We were perfectly fine until you came along with your happiness bullshit."

"Terrence, that's enough," Chelsea said firmly, her grip on Joe's hand tightening. "You're embarrassing yourself. Just turn around and walk away."

"You want to lecture me about embarrassing yourself?" Terrence laughed. "Chelsea, you couldn't keep your legs closed, and now you expect me to just move on? To accept that this... this man is fucking my wife?" He spat the words out, the corner of his lip pulling into a snarl.

Joe's eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step forward. "Watch your mouth, Terrence."

Terrence stepped closer, their carts almost touching. "Or what?" he challenged. "You'll tell me how you did it? How you took her from me? Give me tips so I can go out and steal someone else's wife too?"

Chelsea's face grew hot, a mix of humiliation and anger simmering within her. She didn't need this, not here, not now. The eyes of the other shoppers burned into her skin like hot embers, and she wished the floor would just open up and swallow them whole. She hated that Terrence had the power to do this to her, to make her feel small and dirty. She hated that Terrence could bring this side out of Joe, that he should be the one to protect her "dignity" as if she was the only one who had been imperfect in their marriages.

Joe's hand shot out, grabbing Terrence's shoulder. "I said watch your mouth," he warned, his voice low and menacing. "You don't get to talk about her like that."

Terrence shrugged off Joe's grip, his eyes flashing with rage. "Or what, you'll hit me in front of all these people? Tryna son me in the produce aisle, huh?"

"Joe," Chelsea snapped, her voice like ice. "Let's go. Now." With a final glare in Terrence's direction, she turned to leave, choosing to walk away from the confrontation. Her hand slipped away from Joe's, reaching for the cart handle instead and stalking off towards the check-out.

Joe watched her retreat, his jaw clenched, before turning back to Terrence. "If I ever hear you speak to her like that again, we're gonna have a problem." He took a step back, collecting himself with a purse of his lips. "Take care of yourself, man. I hate to see you so angry."

He nodded stiffly, unable to form words. Joe took the cue and followed Chelsea's path, leaving Terrence in the wake of their tension. As he approached the checkout, he took in the sight of Chelsea's shoulders stiff with anger, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Joe felt his own anger dissipate into a heavy sadness as he squeezed her shoulder. "You okay?"

Chelsea shrugged Joe's hand off her shoulder, the tremble in her voice giving away the turmoil within. "Fine," she said, her tone betraying the practiced smile gracing her features. She didn't dare look at him, afraid that if she did, she would shatter into a million pieces right there in the supermarket. Before Joe could press further, she turned to greet the cashier and began to unload their groceries onto the conveyor belt.

The cashier's eyes flicked between them, the tension palpable enough to cut through the plastic bags. The silence grew heavier with every item scanned, and Joe felt a knot forming in his stomach. He nervously gnawed at his lower lip, trying to find the right words to say, but they remained elusive. The confrontation with Terrence had left a bitter taste in the air, one that not even the sweet scent of their fresh strawberries could mask.

Chelsea paid, tapping her card against the reader with more force than necessary. The cashier handed her the receipt, and she stuffed it into her purse without looking at it. They walked in silence to the parking lot, the cool air doing little to ease the heat of her embarrassment. Joe opened the trunk and started loading the bags, his movements careful and deliberate as Chelsea made her away around to the passenger seat.

The drive to Chelsea's apartment was tense, the silence between them thick and oppressive. She stared out the window, watching the blur of the cityscape pass by as Joe gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with restraint. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, anything to bridge the chasm that had opened between them. But she was at a loss for words, her mind racing with the echoes of Terrence's venomous words. Joe's posturing didn't help to ease her humiliation; it only served to highlight the mess she had made of her life.

When they pulled into the parking garage, Joe turned off the engine but made no move to get out. Chelsea kept her eyes focused on her lap, playing with the hem of her shirt, avoiding his gaze. "Chelsea," he started, his voice tentative, "I'm sorry about what happened back there."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I don't need you to protect me," Chelsea said, her voice low. "I fucked up, Joe. I know that. But I don't need you fighting my battles."

Joe's expression softened as he reached out to take her hand. "I know you're strong," he said, "but I can't just stand there and let someone talk to you like that."

Chelsea sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "I didn't ask you to defend me, Joe. I can handle Terrence." She pulled her hand away, her fingers massaging the bridge of her nose. "Am I upset that he spoke to me like that? Of course. But I know what we did was wrong, and I can't blame him for feeling betrayed."

Joe nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "But he's got no right to drag you through the mud like that," he insisted, his voice a low growl. "You didn't deserve that."

"What if I do? I did something wrong," Chelsea murmured, her eyes focused on the dark dashboard. "I don't think I stopped to consider how he might feel when we started..." she trailed off, taking in a short breath before she continued. "I was so caught up in us, in this fantasy that we built together."

Joe's mind blanked, his hands flexing and curling into a tense ball. He knew Chelsea had been wrestling with her guilt, but hearing her doubt their relationship was like a punch to the gut. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding, his voice tight with restrained emotion. "Chelsea, you're not to blame for someone else's choices. Terrence's anger is his own burden to bear, not yours."

Chelsea remained silent, lost in her thoughts. The weight of the situation pressed down on them as Joe's eyes grazed over her side profile. His chest felt heavy with the burden of her guilt. He knew that their love had come at a cost, but he never wanted her to feel like she was the villain.

"Look," she started, "I know you're right. It's just complicated, you know? I had a life with Terrence, a life that people expected us to have. And now..." Her voice trailed off, the words caught in the back of her throat. "I bear a lot of responsibility for how he feels. I mean, I cheated on him, Joe. For six months I lied to him. That's not love. That's not fair."

Joe couldn't help the flash of frustration that crossed his face. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "Chelsea, carrying all this guilt isn't going to change anything. You made a mistake, yes, but you're not the only one who made 'bad' choices. Terrence isn't blameless here either." He paused, searching for the right words. "If today's encounter with him showed you anything, it should be that he's not innocent. The way he spoke to you, the lack of regard for your autonomy even during your marriage... that's not the behavior of a saint. You left him for a reason. That's all that should matter now."

Her gaze remained fixed out the car window, the setting sun casting a warm glow on her profile. "I know," she murmured. "But that's what's so irritating about it. I know that he didn't love me the way I needed, that I deserve to be happy, but... it's just hard to shake off the power that he had over me for so long."

Joe reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going to pretend like this should be easy for you. But if you're having second-thoughts, regrets, or whatever, you can tell me. I'm here."

Chelsea took a deep breath, her eyes swimming with her pooling tears. "No regrets, I promise. I want this with you. His words just stung, I guess. I can't believe he would say that about me in public."

Joe nodded, his jaw tightening. "You're worth so much more than what he thinks of you," he said, his voice steady. "He's in pain, and he's lashing out. It's not about you; it's about his pride which has always been more important to him than you."

Chelsea turned to look at him, her eyes revealing all her vulnerability. "I wish I wasn't so stuck in my head. This is supposed to be a fresh start, but all I can think about is what everyone else is saying."

Joe brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "We're going to get through this. Together." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "I want to know every thought, every fear, every doubt. No more secrets, no more guilt."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she nodded. "Okay." Joe broke the silence that settled over them with a gentle smile. "Did I tell you about the house I've been eyeing?" he asked, changing the subject to something more uplifting.

Chelsea's eyes lit up, eager to escape the shadow of the confrontation. "No, you haven't," she said, sitting up a bit.

"Let's get the groceries inside, and I'll show you the pictures," Joe said, reaching for the handle of his door.

Chelsea couldn't remember the last time she was this nervous. So nervous she could feel the sweat beads forming at the base of her spine. She had cycled through four or five outfits, anxiously adjusting and readjusting the pale yellow dress that currently clung to her body. The fabric was soft and cottony, an appropriate length and neckline she hoped would be welcoming yet respectful. It was her mother's favorite color, and she hoped it would give Joe's parents the right image of her. She took one last look in the mirror, her heart racing like it was the first day of law school all over again, and took a deep breath.

"You look stunning," Joe said, his eyes sweeping over her as she stepped into the bathroom. He was already dressed in a well-tailored suit, his tie perfectly knotted. Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her, his compliment soothing her nerves a bit.

She looked up to find a black velvet box in Joe's hand, her eyes widening in shock. "What's this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hammering of her heart in her ears.

"Babe," he laughed heartily, stepping closer to her. "It's not what you think. Just a little something to make you feel special tonight." He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous drop diamond necklace that glittered under the soft glow of the room's lights. "You mentioned you liked this shape at the gala. I thought meeting my folks might be a little less nerve-wracking with something to boost your confidence."

Her eyes lit up like the diamond, a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Joe, it's beautiful," she said, taking the necklace and feeling the coolness of the metal against her fingertips. She turned, allowing him space to fasten it around her neck. The weight of the jewel rested comfortably on her collarbone, a symbol of his care and affection. "Thank you," she murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

"Just be yourself, babe," Joe whispered as they pulled away, his hand gently squeezing her waist. "They're going to love you."

"I wish I could reassure you my parents are going to love you," she sighed, wrapping her arms around him, "but I really don't know what to expect."

Joe held her tight in return. "I know," he whispered. "But they're going to see how much I care for you, and hopefully, that'll be enough."

"I love you," she whispered. "I don't say it enough, but I do. Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know that."

Joe kissed her forehead, his eyes full of love. "I know," he said. "And I love you too."

They chose a restaurant that was a blend of their worlds—upscale yet relaxed, a place where their parents could meet on neutral ground. As they waited for the others to arrive, Chelsea's palms grew damp with nerves, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum. She looked up at Joe, his hand resting reassuringly on her thigh beneath the table, and took a deep breath.

His parents, Robin and Jimmy arrived first, wide-eyed as if still out of place within their son's affluence. Robin was kind enough, blue eyes that matched Joe's sparkling with curiosity as she took in every detail of Chelsea's appearance. Jimmy, however, had a stern look that could cut through steel, his handshake firm and his greeting brusque. They sat down, the tension thick as a winter fog, and Chelsea found her mouth suddenly dry.

She tried to remember what Joe had told her about them. That they were salt of the earth, hardworking folks who had raised their son with strong morals. She could only hope they would see beyond the scandalous nature of their relationship to the genuine love that existed between them.

Her parents arrived just as Robin and Jimmy found their seats, her mother's designer handbag clutched tightly to her side, her father's face unreadable. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat as she watched Joe stand up, a smile plastered on his face, extending his hand to her father first.

"Sir," Joe said, his voice steady, "It's a pleasure to have you."

Her father took Joe's hand, his grip firm, his eyes assessing. "Joe," he replied curtly, nodding towards Chelsea.

Chelsea's mother, ever the socialite, offered her cheek for Joe to kiss, which he did with grace, his eyes warm but guarded. Chelsea watched her mother's expression, looking for any sign of disapproval, but all she saw was the tiniest hint of pride. Her father embraced her, his hug tight and sincere. "You okay?" he whispered in her ear. She nodded, her eyes filling with tears she hadn't realized were there.

The dinner was a delicate dance of small talk and probing questions, Joe's charm weaving in and out of the conversation like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Her parents were impressed, she could tell, but the undercurrent of tension remained. They talked about their careers, their shared love of charity, and their plans for the future, which seemed to ease the tension slightly.

"So, I guess we should talk about the elephant in the room?" Robin laughed awkwardly, reaching forward to take a sip of her white wine.

Chelsea's heart raced. This was it—the moment she had been dreading. She took a deep breath, looking at Joe who gave her a reassuring nod. "I know this is a tough situation," she began, her voice quivering slightly. "And I'm sure finding out about our divorces was shocking, but we have every intention of making this work."

Joe's parents exchanged a look that she couldn't quite read. Jimmy spoke up first, "How long were you with your ex-husband?" His tone was pointed, but Chelsea sensed a hint of curiosity behind the question.

"Thirteen years," she exhaled, meeting her mother's soft gaze across the table. "We met my sophomore year of college, got married after my first year in law school."

Robin leaned in, her eyes shrewd. "And what changed? What made you decide to leave him?"

Chelsea took a sip of her water, buying time to collect her thoughts. She could feel Joe gently squeeze her thigh, a silent promise of support. "Well, we weren't right for each other to put it nicely," she said finally. "I realized I wasn't living my life for me. I was living it for everyone else—for Terrence, for our families, for the image we had built. Even if Joe hadn't been in the picture, I don't think we would've been married much longer."

Her mother's eyes darted between them, noting the proximity between the two of them. "And Joe?" she asked softly. "What about your marriage to your ex?"

Joe took a moment before responding, his hand still on Chelsea's thigh, a silent declaration. "We had been together since high school, married for eleven years," he hesitated, casting a glance towards his parents who both sat quietly observing; heads cocked in interest. "I gave up a lot of myself to stay in our marriage. And I reached a point where I had to face the truth, that I wasn't truly happy. I'm not trying to justify my actions, but I couldn't keep pretending."

"And how did Chelsea fit into that?" Her father spoke up gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest.

Joe swallowed hard, his thumb stroking the smoothness of Chelsea's skin. "I think we found each other when we both needed a change. When we were at our lowest, we saw something in each other that we hadn't seen in anyone else before. And we fell in love." He looked into Chelsea's eyes, the honesty in his words resonating through the room. "I know that doesn't make what we did right, but it's the truth. And I'll never apologize for finding happiness, especially not when it's with Chelsea. I want to give her the world, and I know she feels the same about me."

Chelsea could feel her heart melt at Joe's earnest words. Under his gaze, the busy hum of the restaurant faded away. She reached up to touch his face, her hand lingering on the freshly shaved skin of his jaw. "Thank you," she whispered, finding his lips in a kiss filled with hope and promise.

As she pulled away she could recognize a glimmer of softness in her father's eyes, something she hadn't seen in a long time. Her mother, on the other hand, boldly smiled. "Well, Joe," she said, placing her napkin on her plate, "you've got a way with words. I can see why my Chelsea is so smitten."

Joe felt his cheeks warm, but he returned the smile with confidence. "Thank you. Sometimes the heart just knows what it needs." He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip to ease the nerves that were still simmering beneath the surface.

"Speaking of hearts," Jimmy leaned in, his voice even, "have you two talked about your future? Remarriage, maybe? Neither one of you have children, right?"

Joe's grip on his wine glass tightened. "Well, we're taking things one step at a time," he said, glancing at Chelsea, who nodded in agreement. "If getting married is in the cards, we'll make sure it's for the right reasons at the right time."

"The last thing either of us want to do is jump into another marriage without being sure," Chelsea said, her voice steady. She took Joe's hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But Joe's been incredible. You've raised an amazing man, and I'm lucky to share a piece of him."

Robin's gaze softened, and she leaned back in her chair. "Well, I can see you both love each other," she said with a small smile. "That's what matters in the end." Chelsea's father nodded quietly, his expression unreadable.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of small talk and forced laughter, the undercurrent of tension never fully dissipating. Chelsea was pleasantly surprised when her mother suggested a toast to "new beginnings," raising her glass with a knowing look that seemed to envelop the entire table. They clinked glasses, a solemn reminder of the hurdles ahead. As the evening drew to a close, they found themselves waiting on the curb for valet to bring their cars around.

Out of the corner of Chelsea's eye, she could see Joe pull their fathers to the side, their heads bent in a hushed conversation. She hoped Joe could find the right words to win her father over, to show that he was serious about her and their future together. Meanwhile, her mother and Robin chatted amicably, a small victory in itself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the valet pulling up in their parents' cars. She watched Joe and her father part ways with a firm handshake and a nod. Was that a good sign? She couldn't be sure, but she felt a glimmer of hope. They said their goodbyes, Joe's hand lingering on her waist, guiding her to the passenger seat of his sleek sedan.

As they pulled away from the restaurant, the silence grew heavier. The smaller the restaurant shrunk in the rearview mirror, the easier she could breathe. "How do you feel? Talk to me." She opened the conversation, needing to break the tension. Her hand reached for his, grasping it tightly.

Joe's grip was firm and reassuring. "I feel... pretty good about it," he said after a moment. "They're just trying to wrap their heads around it. Your dad's tough, but he loves you. We had a good conversation. Your mom seems to like me, though."

"Yeah, she called my bullshit when they came down to visit last year," Chelsea said with a small laugh, recalling her mother's intuition. "She's always been the one to read me like a book."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights twinkling outside the car windows like distant stars. When they reached the penthouse, Chelsea could feel her nerves start to tingle, a soft smile gracing her lips as she thought about the future.

"My parents loved you," Joe murmured softly once they reached the bedroom, his arms finding their way around her waist. His lips found her exposed shoulder, left hand moving to shift the strap of her dress aside.

"You said they would," she hummed back, eyes glued to their reflection in the mirror. He didn't respond right away, focusing his attention on the soft skin of her neck as his kisses grew more urgent. She shivered slightly under his touch, the weight of the evening's events seeming to dissipate as he pressed himself against her.

"I meant what I said earlier." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. One hand squeezed at her hip, the other trailing up the length of her torso to cup her clothed breast. "I want to give you the world..." his teeth nipped at the column of her neck, "make you the center of my universe..." she sighed under his touch, "get on my knees and thank whatever gods are listening that you chose me." She moaned, bracing herself against the bathroom counter as Joe's hips ground against hers.

"Joe," she breathed, her body responding to his every touch. The fabric of her dress fell away as his hands unzipped and slid it down her body, leaving her in just her black lace lingerie. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, and she shivered with desire.

The bathroom light cast a warm glow, reflecting off the marble fixtures and gleaming surfaces. Joe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of her, his own passion mirrored in hers. He reached around to unclasp her bra, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud. She turned to face him, her lips finding his in a desperate, hungry kiss as his hands roamed over her bare skin. Chelsea's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her urgency building with every touch.

They stumbled into the bedroom, a tangle of limbs and fabric. The floorboards creaked beneath their weight as Joe laid her down, his mouth moving down her body, kissing and licking a trail of fire. Chelsea arched her back, her breath hitching in anticipation. He paused, looking up at her with a question in his eyes, and she nodded, needing him as much as he needed her.

Joe slid her panties off with a gentle tug, revealing her wetness. He took a moment to admire her, his eyes lingering on her most intimate parts before he leaned down, his tongue teasing her clit. She gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. His mouth worked her slowly, savoring every taste and sound she made until she was panting with need. Chelsea's hands found his hair, her nails digging in as she tried to control the sensations overtaking her.

Her thighs settled over his broad shoulders as he buried his face between them, his breath tickling her skin. The room was filled with the sounds of her heavy breaths and the occasional groan from Joe as he pleasured her. Chelsea's eyes rolled back, and she whispered his name over and over again, her body shaking as she approached climax. The sensation grew until it was all she could focus on, the world around them fading away into a sea of pleasure.

When she finally came, it was like a wave crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Joe didn't stop, his mouth moving lower, his tongue sliding into her. She gripped the bedsheets tightly, her body writhing under his touch. Each stroke brought a new wave of sensation, and she felt herself losing control.

"God - Joe, fuck," Chelsea panted, her legs trembling around his neck. He chuckled against her, his hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. She felt a warmth spread through her body, her eyes fluttering as they rolled back in her head. Her chest heaved as she squirmed against him, unable to think or breathe or do anything but feel.

Joe pulled back, his fingers finding her folds and gently sliding into her. She gasped, her body tightening around him. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. Chelsea couldn't find the words to respond, her brain too overwhelmed with sensation. He began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, and she watched him, his eyes locked on hers, as if he were trying to read every thought, every feeling that passed through her.

"Gimme another one," Joe whispered, his voice husky with need. Chelsea's body responded instinctively, arching up to meet his touch. Her orgasm had barely subsided, but she was already on the edge again. He slid in a second finger, curving them to hit just the right spot, and she moaned, her eyes closing. The room was a blur of shadows and soft light, her gasps and whimpers echoing off the walls.

He watched her face, the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes rolled back. It was like watching a masterpiece come to life under his fingertips. He leaned in, his thumb brushing against her clit, and she let out a sigh, her hips stuttering under his touch. He felt the tightening of her muscles around his hand, the clench of her inner walls. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, this woman, his woman, lost in pleasure because of him.

"So beautiful, baby. Just breathe," Joe murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to focus as the sensations grew more intense. His thumb circled her clit, and she felt her body tighten even further. With a final, desperate moan, she came again, her back arching off the bed.

Joe watched her, his own arousal evident in his eyes. He kissed her stomach, her breasts, her neck, before finally claiming her mouth again. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and angle, memorizing her. He slid into her, the sensation of their bodies joined making them both gasp.

She was sensitive, so Joe went slow, letting her body adjust to the new sensation of him inside her. They moved together, finding a rhythm that felt like home. The world outside melted away, and all that mattered was the heat between their bodies and the need to devour each other whole. They kissed, their breaths mingling, as their hips danced.

His tongue traced a line up the center of her throat, pressing kisses to her jaw and cheekbones. Chelsea felt a renewed surge of energy, her body responding to the tenderness in his touch. Their movements grew more urgent, the passion between them igniting like a wildfire. The room was filled with the sound of their muffled moans and the slap of their bodies coming together. The bed rocked beneath them, the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

"Love this, the way we fit," he murmured, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that had her gripping the sheets. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, needing him to fill her completely. His eyes never left hers as he reached the peak of their shared passion, his breathing heavy and erratic.

With a final, deep thrust, Joe groaned her name, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Chelsea felt her own orgasm crest, her body spasming around him as she cried out. They held onto each other tightly, their hearts beating in unison, the room spinning around them. She couldn't distinguish up from down, her thoughts an unyielding swirl of pleasure and love.

Afterward, they lay entwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Chelsea's heart was still racing, her body feeling both exhausted and alive. Joe's chest was warm and solid beneath her cheek, his heart thumping a steady, comforting beat. She had never felt so connected to someone before, so herself, so perfect.

LOVE DROUGHT, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x oc [chelsea brooks]. word count⠀⁎⠀26k.

summary⠀⁎⠀chelsea's life appears perfect. a beautiful home, a great job, and a valuable last name. leaving behind her life in atlanta to come to cincinnati presents new opportunities and new challenges in her marriage. the biggest challenge comes in the form of the handsome neighbor next door, every married inch of him.

author's note⠀⁎⠀don't do this ???? lmao. should really be named "joe and chelsea have an affair", happy ending! we love happy endings. i might have a part two in me, we'll see. takes place over a year give or take. this takes place in an alternate universe where joe never transferred to lsu/didn't go to the nfl, joe's "backstory" is entirely made up lmao, joe is 36, chelsea is 34, longest thing i've ever written in my life lol sorry? warnings⠀⁎⠀don't like it? don't read it <3 don't let your husband stop you from meeting your soulmate <3, infidelity, literally everyone in this story has questionable behaviors, several mentions of masturbation, mirror sex, infidelity as dirty talk?, booty calls.

Chelsea Brooks stepped out of her sleek black Mercedes, her Nike sneakers crunching the autumn leaves against the concrete driveway. She took a deep breath of the crisp, Cincinnati air, feeling the chilly breeze caress her cheeks. The house she and her husband, Terrence, had just bought was a beautiful monstrosity of stone and glass, a stark contrast to the warm, cozy homes of her Atlanta roots. She surveyed the quiet neighborhood, noting the perfectly manicured lawns and the welcoming porches that seemed to whisper tales of family gatherings and long summer nights.

Her husband, Terrence, was already inside, unpacking boxes filled with their lives from their old home. He was a neurosurgeon, a man of precision and order, and Chelsea knew that the chaos of moving would only add to his stress. But she couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement as she approached the front door. The house was a symbol of their success, a testament to their hard work and their families' legacies. As she stepped into the foyer, she heard the distant sound of Terrence's voice, muffled by the walls that now stood between them.

The house was cool and unfamiliar, smelling faintly of paint and new carpets. The echoes of their footsteps made it seem like a cavernous museum rather than a home filled with love and laughter. The grandeur of their new abode was a stark reminder of the expectations that had been placed upon them since childhood. Chelsea and Terrence had worked their asses off to maintain the status quo, to be the poster children for "love" and "excellence". But as she looked around, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It was as if their lives had been painted by numbers and they hadn't had the courage to scribble outside the lines.

"Terrence, where are you?" Chelsea called out, her voice echoing through the vast, empty space.

Terrence emerged from the depths of their future dining room, sweat beading on his brow. "In here, baby. I'm just getting the last of the china unpacked. Your momma's gonna love that we finally have our own china cabinet."

Chelsea couldn't help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. It was true, their parents had been thrilled with their move to Cincinnati. It was a step up for both their careers and a chance to rub elbows with the upper echelon of society. But for Chelsea, the move had brought a sense of suffocation. She was an entertainment lawyer, used to the fast-paced, glitzy world of celebrities and sports stars in Atlanta. Here, she felt like a fish out of water.

"I brought lunch," Chelsea announced, holding up a bag from the deli they passed on the drive in. She set it down on the marble kitchen countertop and opened it, revealing hot sandwiches and a side of chips. "I know how you hate eating cold food, so I figured I'd be nice and get you something warm."

Terrence looked up from the box he was unpacking, his eyes lighting up. "You're a lifesaver, baby," he said, stepping over to give her a quick smile. His hand lingered on the small of her back, a gesture that was somehow both casual and possessive. "How was your first day at the firm?"

Chelsea shrugged, trying to keep the doubt out of her voice. "It was great. Met some interesting people. The office is nice, but it's going to take some getting used to." She handed him a sandwich and watched as he took a bite, his eyes closing briefly in satisfaction. "It's not Atlanta, that's for sure," she added, unable to hide the wistfulness that crept into her tone.

Terrence looked at her, his expression softening. "I know it's a change, but it's for a good reason. I'm making more money, saving more lives... we're in this together." He took another bite, then paused. "What do you think about the neighborhood? They got some crazy-ass houses around here."

Chelsea nodded, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's nice. You saw the fuckin' three-story McMansion next door? I ran into the retired couple who own it, the Chens. They had their grandkids over, screaming and playing in the yard. It was cute." She took a bite of her cold sandwich, savoring the flavor of the turkey and avocado.

Terrence chuckled. "I'm sure it'll be quieter when they're not around." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Speaking of neighbors, I've heard the couple on the other side are pretty cool. The wife owns that fancy ass restaurant downtown. We should pop over there and introduce ourselves."

"Gianna Mora?" Chelsea's eyes widened. "The celebrity chef from that travel show? Are you for real, she's our neighbor?"

"That's the most excited I seen you all week," Terrence said with a laugh, his eyes sparkling at the mention of their famous neighbor.

"Well, it's not every day you live next to a celebrity chef," Chelsea replied, her curiosity piqued. "I've seen her show a few times. She seems really down-to-earth."

Terrence nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she's got that whole 'girl next door' vibe going on. Her and her husband, they seem like good people." He took another bite of his sandwich, his voice muffled slightly. "I think I saw him out jogging this morning. He got to be pushing six-four, 220 pounds, easy."

Chelsea felt a twinge of curiosity about the mysterious neighbor, Joe Burrow. She had heard Gianna's name often in the entertainment circles, but never knew much about her husband. The idea of a quiet, introverted man being married to a vibrant, outgoing celebrity was entertaining. She imagined him as a silent supporter, the rock that kept Gianna grounded amidst her culinary stardom.

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts, and Chelsea wiped her hands on a spare napkin before walking over to answer it. She was surprised to find Gianna on the other side, her bouncy, jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a warm smile on her face. "Hey, I hope you guys aren't too busy," she said, her eyes scanning the still-boxed living room. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself properly. I'm Gianna."

Chelsea stepped aside, gesturing for Gianna to come in. "Of course, we've been meaning to do the same," she said, feeling a little guilty for not taking the initiative. "I'm Chelsea, and this is my husband, Terrence."

Gianna's smile grew as she stepped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "It's so nice to meet you both," she said, her midwestern accent adding a layer of charm to her already bubbly personality. "I figured you guys might need a break from all the unpacking. Plus, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. My husband Joe will be home from his business trip, and I love any excuse to mess around in the kitchen."

Terrence wiped his hands on his pants, setting down his half-eaten sandwich. "That's incredibly kind of you, Gianna. We'd love to come over."

Gianna's smile widened. "Perfect. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"We'll be there," Terrence said, flashing his most charming smile. "Looking forward to tasting some of that famous cooking of yours."

Gianna's eyes twinkled with excitement. "It won't be anything too fancy," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just a little welcome dinner for the new kids on the block." She handed Chelsea a business card with the address of her restaurant. "And if you're ever in the mood for something special, feel free to stop by the restaurant. I can always whip something up for you."

"Thanks for the invite, Gianna," Chelsea said, her eyes flicking to the paper before setting it down on the counter. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. We'll see you tonight."

As the door closed behind Gianna, Terrence turned to her. "You okay with this?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. "I know you've had a long week."

Chelsea nodded, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. "Yeah, I'm fine. It'll be nice to get to know our neighbors."

Terrence leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And maybe get a little gossip on the local celeb scene," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Chelsea couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You just want to get closer to her recipes," she said, tossing a napkin at him. "But sure, let's get ready. I need to find something to wear that doesn't look like I just rolled out of a moving van."

"Wait, baby, hold on," Terrence called out, reaching for her hand as she moved to stand up. "I think we have to christen the house, don't you?"

Chelsea sighed, the weight of his words not lost on her. She knew what he wanted, and while the timing was less than ideal, she also knew it would be a quick and easy way to keep him satisfied. She nodded, a forced smile playing on her lips as she let him pull her back down to the couch. He kissed her, his hands moving to the zipper of her skirt. It was a dance they had performed countless times before, a routine that lacked the passion it once had.

As they undressed each other, Chelsea couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. Terrence was still the same romantic he had been in college, but that was precisely the problem. He had stayed the same while she had grown into a woman who craved more. More excitement, more adventure, more everything. But she pushed her thoughts aside as she focused on the task at hand, trying to find some semblance of satisfaction in their lovemaking.

Terrence, oblivious to her inner turmoil, whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he kissed along her neck. Chelsea closed her eyes, willing herself to feel something, anything, other than the coldness that had settled in her chest. She let out a moan, hoping to convince herself more than him, and he took it as an encouragement to go harder. The couch creaked under their weight as they moved in a rhythm that had become all too familiar.

Afterwards, Chelsea stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, and she looked tired. She quickly cleaned herself up and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the feeling of emptiness that lingered. When she emerged, she found Terrence getting dressed for the dinner, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

"You look amazing," Terrence said, his eyes appreciating her figure as she stepped out of the bathroom. "Like you just stepped out of a magazine."

Chelsea forced a smile, wrapping a towel around her body. "Thanks, T," she said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. She had chosen a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was a classic choice, one that she knew would make her look put together without trying too hard. She didn't bother with the lingerie Terrence typically encouraged her to slip on; it was just for show tonight.

They arrived at Gianna and Joe's home promptly at eight, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, making Chelsea's stomach rumble. Terrence knocked on the door, and after a moment, it swung open to reveal Joe. He was dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans, his hair slightly ruffled as if hastily blow-dried.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea a beat too long before looking at Terrence. "I'm glad you could make it. I'm Joe Burrow." He shook Terrence's hand firmly and then offered his hand to Chelsea. She took it, feeling a spark of something unfamiliar jolt through her at the touch. The two men exchanged a bottle of Terrence's homemade apple cider, as Chelsea attempted to moderate her heartbeat.

Gianna emerged from the kitchen, a vision in a flowy red dress that hugged her petite frame. She had a warm smile that seemed to light up the room, and her eyes were bright with excitement as she greeted them. "Come in, come in," she said, her accent a delightful blend of her midwestern roots and her PR training. "I hope you're hungry, I made some pozole rojo that I've been dying to share with someone other than Joe."

The four of them settled around the dinner table, the conversation flowing easily. Chelsea found herself drawn to Joe's deep blue eyes and the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he reached for the bread. He was handsome in a way that was almost old fashioned, like a 1940s movie star who'd stepped out of the screen into their modern lives. And there was something about the way he talked, the quiet confidence in his voice, that made her want to lean in closer, to hear every word he said.

Terrence and Gianna talked about their work, the challenges of balancing their demanding careers with their personal lives. Chelsea listened, nodding along, but her mind kept drifting back to Joe. She could feel the tension between them, a palpable force that seemed to thicken the air in the room. It was as if they were the only two people there, and everyone else was just a blurry backdrop to their clandestine attraction.

Dinner was a delightful array of flavors and textures, each bite a testament to Gianna's culinary talents. But Chelsea had to admit, she was having a hard time focusing on the food. Her focus kept wandering to Joe, the way his strong hands moved as he reached for a tortilla, the way his voice rumbled in his chest when he laughed. She took a sip of the wine from the winery Gianna and Joe owned, trying to keep her cool. The conversation turned to their hometowns, and Chelsea talked about growing up in the bustling streets of Atlanta, the vibrant culture and the endless energy that had shaped her into who she was today. Joe spoke of his small-town upbringing, his voice filled with a hint of nostalgia that made Chelsea's heart ache.

Terrence excused himself to take a work call, leaving Chelsea, Gianna, and Joe to continue the evening. Chelsea felt a strange sense of relief, as if she had been waiting for this moment all night. The conversation grew more intimate, the three of them sharing stories of their college days and their early careers. Chelsea found herself laughing at Joe's tales of his college football days, his face lighting up with the memories. Gianna, ever the gracious host, listened intently, her eyes shimmering with pride.

As the wine bottle grew empty, Joe suggested they move to the living room, where a crackling fire and comfortable couches beckoned. Chelsea agreed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her body, loosening her inhibitions. She across from Gianna whose head rested against Joe's broad shoulder, his wedding ring glistening as he rested his left hand over the back of the couch. Terrence joined them, his eyes glazed over with the fatigue of a doctor's schedule.

The conversation took a turn to their respective careers and how they had met their spouses. Chelsea and Terrence talked about their college romance, their paths diverging and then converging again in the world of law and medicine. Gianna shared her journey from culinary school to opening her own restaurant, which Joe had supported her through every step of the way. It was clear that Joe and Gianna had a strong bond, built on respect and a shared history. Yet, as the night grew late, Chelsea couldn't shake the feeling that Joe's eyes kept straying to her.

When Terrence finally stood up, yawning and checking his watch, Chelsea felt a jolt of disappointment. She didn't want the evening to end, not yet. But she knew she couldn't ask him to stay. "We should get going," Terrence said, "It's been a long day and I've got an early surgery tomorrow."

"Let's exchange numbers," Chelsea suggested, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "We should get together again once we're all settled in."

Gianna beamed, and the two women exchanged numbers while Joe quietly observed. Chelsea felt his gaze on her as she said goodbye, the intensity of it making her heart race. They stepped out into the cool Cincinnati night, the stars glinting in the sky above their heads. Terrence walked them down the sidewalk to their home, his hand resting protectively on the small of Chelsea's back.

The next few weeks saw Chelsea and Joe's paths crossing more often than not. They'd wave from their respective lawns as they mowed the grass or tended to their flowers. They'd bump into each other while out at their mailboxes, exchanging pleasantries and small talk. Yet, the charged energy between them grew with each encounter, the unspoken desire thickening like the humidity in the air before a summer storm.

Work kept both Chelsea and Joe busy, allowing their attraction to simmer under the surface of their daily lives. Yet, every time their eyes met, the electricity was undeniable. Chelsea found herself looking forward to these casual meetings, her heart fluttering as she anticipated their next encounter.

Chelsea closed out a huge contract with a professional basketball player about two months after moving to Cincinnati, feeling a high she hadn't experienced in weeks. As she pulled into the driveway, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Terrence's car in the garage. He was rarely home before dark. She bounced into the house, her heels echoing through the grand entryway, and found him in the living room, surrounded by the last of their cardboard boxes. "Surprise," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I took the afternoon off. I thought we could finally get this place in order."

Their relationship had been chilly since the move, but Chelsea felt a spark of hope at his gesture. They worked side by side, unpacking and rearranging furniture, and when the last box was empty, they collapsed onto the couch, laughing and sweaty. It was the most relaxed she'd been around him in months, and Chelsea allowed herself to feel a flicker of affection for him.

"Thank you for helping me today," she said, leaning into his side.

Terrence grinned, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the TV. "No problem. It's what we do for each other."

But as the days rolled into weeks, the spark didn't catch. The routine of their marriage resumed its monotonous cycle, and Chelsea found herself looking out the window, watching Joe jog past her house in the early mornings. His tall, muscular frame was a stark contrast to Terrence's slim build, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel those arms around her instead.

"I'm all packed, Chels," Terrence called out from their bedroom, interrupting her thoughts. "Don't wait up for me tonight, I've got a full surgical schedule and an even longer flight. I'll be back in a week." He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded. Terrence would be attending a medical conference in London, leaving Chelsea to hold down the fort and entertain her best friend flying in from Atlanta for the weekend.

Chelsea watched Terrence's taillights disappear into the early morning sunlight, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. The house was quiet, almost too quiet without his constant presence. She had the weekend to herself, but she knew the silence would only amplify her thoughts of Joe. But with her best friend, Jasmine, arriving that evening, she had no time to wallow in her illicit desires.

With a deep breath, Chelsea turned her focus to the impending weekend. She had plans to take Jasmine to all the local hotspots, including Gianna's restaurant. As they unpacked her luggage, Chelsea's phone buzzed with a message from Gianna, supportive of Chelsea's suggestion they all grab dinner together the following night at the restaurant.

That evening, as Chelsea and Jasmine lounged on the plush couch with a bottle of wine, both Terrence and Joe were the furthest thing from her mind. They laughed and reminisced about their old antics, filling the air with nostalgia. Chelsea had missed this, the genuine connection with someone who knew her before she became Mrs. Brooks, the high-powered, ultra-successful attorney. Jasmine was a reminder of the wild, carefree woman Chelsea used to be before the expectations of her family and marriage had tamed her spirit.

The next night, Chelsea and Jasmine got dressed to the nines for dinner at Gianna's restaurant. The scent of garlic and spices wafted from the kitchen, tantalizing their senses. As they waited for their table, Joe strolled in, looking as suave as ever in a tailored suit. Chelsea felt a jolt of electricity at the sight of him, and she knew that she hadn't been able to shake the attraction she'd felt that first night. She introduced Jasmine and the two of them chatted for a bit before Gianna whisked them away to show off the kitchen.

Jasmine leaned in to whisper, "Damn, girl, your neighbor is fine."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, "Really? I didn't notice."

The evening passed in a delightful blur of exquisite food and lively conversation. Gianna regaled them with tales from her show, and Joe shared stories from his corporate world. Despite their different backgrounds, Chelsea found herself drawn into Joe's world, his quiet confidence and sharp wit a refreshing change from Terrence's stoic nature. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of something she hadn't felt in a long time—desire.

As they said their goodnights, Joe's hand grazed Chelsea's arm, sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't resist the allure of the flame. The following day, as Chelsea pulled out of the driveway to drive Jasmine back to the airport, she saw Joe outside, dressed in a suit again, presumably heading off to work. He waved and she felt her cheeks warm, the memory of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between Chelsea and Joe grew thicker than the humid Cincinnati air. They saw each other in passing, exchanging polite smiles and lingering stares, but not much else. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying her thoughts in contracts and negotiations, but Joe's magnetic presence was never far from her mind.

One sweltering afternoon, as Chelsea returned from a particularly grueling day at the office, she spotted Joe in his backyard, sweat glistening on his forehead as he tended to the garden. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and strong hands. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she found herself walking over, her high heels sinking into the soft grass.

"I didn't know Mr. CFO had a green thumb," Chelsea called out, her voice carrying over the fence that separated their properties.

Joe looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's one of the few things that keeps me sane," he responded, straightening up to give her a better view of his body. His white dry-fit pulled taut across his broad chest. "Gigi likes to grow her own herbs and somehow, I got roped into it."

Chelsea stepped closer, the heat from the sun matching the warmth that spread through her body. "I can see the appeal," she said, her eyes raking over his muscular physique. "It's therapeutic."

Joe nodded, his gaze lingering on her figure. "It's a good distraction," he said, the double meaning clear in his voice.

"I could use a distraction," Chelsea admitted, her voice low and sultry. She stepped back from the fence, work bag in hand. "It was nice to see you. Happy gardening."

Another five weeks passed, and Chelsea found herself getting ready for the annual fundraising gala for her firm. The event was a mix of high-profile clients and potential new business connections, so the pressure to make a good impression was high. As she slipped into her form-fitting black gown, she couldn't help the sinking disappointment flood through her when Terrence called to say he had to cover an emergency surgery. He'd miss the gala, leaving her to attend alone.

The hotel ballroom was a whirlwind of glitz and glamour, the air thick with ambition and expensive cologne. Chelsea felt both out of place and completely at home as she mingled with the city's elite. She had hoped to use the evening to put Joe out of her mind, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Sure enough, when she turned to grab a glass of champagne from the waiter, she saw him standing by the bar, looking every inch the powerful CFO he was. His eyes met hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. They hadn't talked since the day she saw him in the garden, but the heat was as potent as ever.

"Joe," she said, trying to sound casual. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

He approached her, his smile wry. "Gianna had a last-minute filming gig," he said, holding up his own glass. "I thought I'd come to support a good cause. I didn't realize this was your firm?"

Chelsea felt her heart race as she took a sip of the bubbly. "It's a small world," she murmured, her eyes darting around the room. "But I should probably go mingle."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Or you could stay here and mingle with me," he suggested, his hand brushing against her bare back.

Chelsea's skin prickled with desire, and she knew she was playing with fire. "I shouldn't," she whispered, trying to pull away. But Joe's touch was like a magnet, drawing her back in.

"Why not?" he challenged, his voice low and seductive. "We're just two adults enjoying a bit of conversation." His hand slid down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The heat of his palm seemed to burn through the fabric of her dress.

Chelsea's resolve was slipping. The room felt too warm, the noise of the party a distant buzz. "Because we're both married," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "to two great people who don't deserve to be hurt."

Joe's expression grew serious, his hand lingering on her back. "You're right," he said, "but we're also two people with needs." His thumb traced small circles on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "Needs that aren't being met."

Confusion flickered in Chelsea's eyes, the conflict between her desires and her conscience playing out on her features. "Gigi's drop-dead gorgeous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "and Terrence... he's a good guy. Why isn't that enough?" She practically scoffed at the thought as if scolding herself for being unfulfilled.

Joe's gaze grew intense. "It's not about what's enough," he replied, his hand sliding lower to rest just above the curve of her ass. "It's about what we want." His voice was a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep within her. "And I know what I want."

Their conversation was interrupted by a colleague of Chelsea's, breaking the tension like a knife through hot butter. She was torn, part of her relieved for the interruption, the other part craving Joe's touch. As she was dragged away to schmooze with potential clients, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. The evening grew longer, the conversations more forced, and she found herself counting down the minutes until she could be alone with her thoughts.

When the event finally wound down, Chelsea made her escape to the hotel's lobby, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She was about to call for a ride home when Joe appeared beside her, his hand on her elbow. "Let me take you home," he offered, his voice thick with intent.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed the consequences of her decision. With a deep breath, she nodded. They made their way to his car, the cool night air doing little to calm her racing thoughts. The drive was filled with tense silence, their eyes meeting every time they stopped at a red light. The anticipation was palpable, a silent crescendo building between them.

When they arrived at her house, Joe's hand lingered on the gear shift. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with unspoken desire. He turned to her, his eyes searching hers.

"Chelsea," he began, his voice gruff with want.

With a surge of control, Chelsea moved to open the passenger door. "Thank you for the ride, Joe," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I should get inside. I'm exhausted."

He nodded slowly, the tension in the car thick as they both knew what they were walking away from. "Alright," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she replied, her voice a soft sigh. "See you around."

The door clicked shut, and Joe waited until she was safely inside before driving away. Chelsea leaned against the door, her hand on her racing heart, feeling the weight of the evening's events pressing down on her. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't deny the excitement that danced within her.

Her body felt heavy as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the memory of Joe's touch still electric on her skin. She slipped out of her dress and into her silk nightgown, her mind replaying the night's events in a dizzying loop. As she slid between the cool sheets, she couldn't shake the feeling of Joe's eyes on her, his touch, his voice. Her hand traveled down her body, tracing the same paths he had earlier. Her breath grew ragged as she reached her own release, moaning his name out loud into the darkness, the syllables falling off her tongue as if destined.

The next day, she found herself unable to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed by Joe. The office felt stifling, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same. She found her eyes darting to her phone, waiting for a message that never came. It was as if the universe knew she was teetering on the edge, and it was holding its breath.

When she got home, she was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep with a note that simply read, "All my best." She knew immediately they were from Joe, and the gesture sent a shiver down her spine. She brought them inside, placing them on the kitchen counter, and stared at them for what felt like hours, the scent of roses filling the room.

They kept running into each other, the tension growing with every passing encounter. They exchanged glances that spoke volumes, but neither made a move. The weight of their secret grew heavier with each shared smile, each lingering touch. It was a dance they both knew could end in disaster, but the music was too tempting to resist.

The next time she spoke to him was a Saturday afternoon in May. Terrence was out playing golf with colleagues, and she had spent the day cleaning from top to bottom. The house was finally starting to feel like home, but she couldn't ignore the emptiness that echoed through the halls. The sun cast a gorgeous glow over the neighborhood as she stepped outside to get some fresh air. She exchanged her usual business attire for a pair of shorts and a simple tank top, her freshly pressed hair pulled into a high ponytail.

As she sat on the porch swing, the sound of faint grunts and huffed counting from Joe's backyard caught her attention. Curious, she slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look. She found him shirtless, a sheen of sweat glistening on his broad chest and shoulders as he worked through a set of push-ups. Chelsea couldn't help but admire the play of muscles beneath his skin, her gaze lingering longer than she intended.

Their eyes met, and Joe paused mid-push-up, a smirk playing on his lips as he held his hover over the shaded pavement effortlessly. He didn't bother getting up, instead continuing his workout, clearly enjoying the attention. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks and turned away, looking down as she pretended to examine the fence. The sound of his footsteps grew closer until he was standing on the other side, just a few wooden slats separating them.

"You know, I could use a spotter," he called over with a laugh, his voice low and teasing. "Or are you just here to admire the view?"

Chelsea rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her own smirk. "I wouldn't dare interrupt your workout routine, Mr. Burrow," she quipped, trying to sound more casual than she felt.

"Joe," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "And I could use the company."

The air thickened between them, charged with unspoken desire. Chelsea felt her heart quicken. She knew she should go inside, maintain the facade of a contented wife. But she didn't move. Instead, she found herself saying, "I make a kick-ass iced tea, if you're thirsty."

Joe's grin widened, and without missing a beat, he responded, "I'm parched. I'll be right over."

The moment Joe stepped into her kitchen, the air grew electric. Chelsea poured two tall glasses of iced tea, her hands shaking slightly as she handed him one. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast, and she took a sip, the sweetness and coolness providing a brief respite from the heat building inside her. He drank deeply, watching her over the rim, his eyes never leaving hers. The silence stretched out, a taut thread ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Your house is beautiful," Joe said finally, breaking the silence as he scanned the open-plan living room. "I don't think I've seen it all put together yet."

"Thank you," Chelsea replied, her eyes following the trail of condensation down the side of her glass. "It's still a work in progress, not 100% what I want, but it's coming together." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the space, making the house feel both smaller and more alive than it had in months.

They made small talk as they walked around the house, Joe nodding and making the occasional comment about the decor, though his eyes never strayed from hers for long. The conversation grew more intimate as they sat down in the living room, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea's eyes flicked to the clock on the mantle, reminding her that she had a few hours before Terrence was due home.

"So, what's been keeping you busy?" Joe asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

"Coaster, please," Chelsea said with a smile, gesturing to the spot where his glass was leaving a ring. Joe's eyes followed her gesture and he chuckled, placing it on the provided coaster. "I got thrown into an image rights case last minute," she continued. "I've been in and out of court most days, so not much time for anything else."

"Sounds hectic," Joe said, leaning back into the couch, his muscular arms flexing under the fabric of his shirt. "But I'm sure you're crushing it."

"I try," Chelsea said, sipping her tea, her gaze lingering on the way his biceps bulged. "But sometimes, I wish I could just take a break from it all."

Joe leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "What would you do if you could?"

Her breath hitched. "I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe just escape."

Joe set his glass aside and shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere tropical," she said, observing the brown drink in her hand. "White sand beaches, clear water, and zero cell service. Terrence gets so antsy when he's away from work, I doubt he'd even come with me." She lifted her eyes to find Joe studying her, his expression unreadable.

"You deserve a break," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone should take care of you."

The words hung in the air, and Chelsea's heart raced at the implication. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "I'm sure you're busy too, with the winery and your work."

Joe leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's been a grind. But sometimes, you need to make time for what's important." His hand hovered over her thigh, and she felt the warmth of his touch pressing into her skin. She didn't move away.

The room grew quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the AC and the distant sound of a lawnmower outside. Chelsea's skin prickled with anticipation as Joe's hand slid closer to her, the fabric of her shorts the only barrier. She took another sip of tea, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, the sound amplified in the tense silence.

"What do you think is important?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe's hand stilled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her thigh. "Well, I think taking care of yourself is pretty high on the list." His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel both exposed and desired. "And maybe," he paused, his smile growing, "finding someone who enjoys taking care of you too."

Chelsea's breathing grew shallower, her eyes flicking to his hand, then back to his face. She knew what he was implying, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. "We're married, Joe," she reminded him, her voice strained.

Joe shrugged, his thumb continuing its tantalizing dance. "Doesn't mean we can't take care of each other."

Chelsea's resolve was wavering, the heat of his touch spreading through her like wildfire. She set her glass down on a duplicate coaster, her hand trembling slightly. "Joe..." she began, unsure of what to say next.

He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against her ear. "No one has to know," he whispered. "We can keep it our little secret." His hand inched higher, and she could feel the heat of his palm through the material of her shorts. "Tell me you don't want this."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine a life where she could be with Joe, free from the shackles of her unfulfilling marriage. But reality crashed back down on her, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "We can't," she said firmly, moving his hand away. "We're married to other people, and we have to respect that."

Joe leaned back, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "I know," he said, his voice softer. "But I also know that sometimes, you need more than what you have."

Chelsea sighed, unable to deny the truth of his words. "Fuck," she whispered, feeling the weight of the unspoken agreement between them. They sat there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desires.

Then she leaned in, her lips a breath away from his. "Fuck me," she murmured, her voice thick with need. "Here. Now."

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He stood, pulling Chelsea to her feet, their bodies colliding in a frenzied kiss. His hands roamed her body, and she moaned into his mouth, feeling alive in a way she hadn't in years. They stumbled through the living room, knocking over a vase in their haste. Chelsea didn't care. All she could focus on was the heat of Joe's touch and the promise of the pleasure he offered.

They fell onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and need. Joe's hands were everywhere, pulling her tank top over her head and unhooking her bra with deft fingers. Chelsea's own hands were equally busy, her nails trailed down his back, feeling the power beneath his shirt. They were like starving lovers, desperate to devour each other, their clothes flying off in a frenzy of passion.

The couch creaked under their weight as Joe positioned himself over her, his erection pressing against her thigh. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him closer. His kisses grew more demanding as he kissed a trail down her neck, making her arch her back in response. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her collarbone, eliciting a gasp. The feel of his stubble against her skin was exhilarating, opposing the sleek smoothness she was used to with Terrence.

Chelsea reached down and fumbled with his athletic shorts, her heart racing. The fabric slid down his hips, revealing his hardened length concealed under his boxer briefs. She took him in her hand, stroking him gently. Joe groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her touch. His own hand found her center, and she was wet and ready for him. He teased her with his fingers, exploring her folds and finding her clit. She moaned, pushing herself into his hand, eager for more.

With a growl, Joe kissed her again, his tongue claiming her mouth as he entered her. Chelsea's eyes widened with pleasure, her body responding to him in ways it hadn't for Terrence in so long. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. The couch protested with every movement, but the sound was lost in their muffled cries and gasps. Chelsea's breasts bounced with the rhythm, her nipples tight and sensitive. Joe's eyes were locked on hers, the intensity in them making her feel like the only woman in the world.

The room spun as Chelsea moaned out at the feeling of the stretch. She raked her nails down his back, urging him on. He responded, his strokes growing more erratic and his breathing more ragged. The friction between them was electric, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She willed him closer, pulling her into her sweet heat, as if wanting to embed his skin onto hers.

"Wait, do you have a condom?" Chelsea managed to ask breathlessly, the realization hitting her like a cold shower. Joe paused, looking surprised for a moment before nodding and reaching for his discarded pants. He fished out a foil packet from his wallet and tore it open with his teeth, sliding it onto himself with an efficiency that spoke of experience.

She couldn't bring herself to think too hard about the implications of Joe carrying a condom at the ready. Instead, she focused on the feeling of him sheathing himself and sinking back into her. The sensation was exquisite, filling a void she hadn't even realized existed. They moved together, their bodies syncing in a way she had thought was reserved for movies and romance novels. The passion between them was intoxicating, the air thick with desire.

Sweat glistened on their skin as Joe picked up the pace. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge of a climax she hadn't experienced in years. Her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, her toes curling into the plush rug beneath them. When it finally crashed over her, she called out his name, her voice echoing in the quiet room. Joe followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into the latex barrier.

Chelsea's body felt like jelly as Joe pulled out and they both lay panting on the couch, their clothes in disarray. The moment of passion hovered over them like a cloud, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Chelsea's mind raced as she stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what they had just done. The weight of their actions settled on her shoulders, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction that coursed through her veins.

They both knew they had crossed a line, and the guilt began to creep in. Chelsea sat up, smoothing her hair before reaching down to pull her underwear back up her shapely legs. She searched Joe's eyes for a sign of what was to come, but all she found was a mirror to her own tumultuous emotions. He stood and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. They were silent as they redressed, the sound of fabric rustling and their hearts beating loudly in the quiet.

A notification pinged, echoing through the tense space. Chelsea's phone vibrated on the coffee table, and she reached for it almost instinctively. It was a message from Terrence, checking in on her evening. The irony wasn't lost on her as she typed out a quick response, playing the role of the devoted wife. Joe leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her with a mix of satisfaction and something else she couldn't quite place. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust that hadn't fully subsided.

"We should probably talk," Joe said, his voice low and serious, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

Chelsea's head shook from side to side, her mind racing with the gravity of their actions. "What is there to talk about?" she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "We both know this can't go anywhere. We are married, Joe."

Joe's eyes searched hers for understanding. "I know, Chelsea. But I can't ignore this connection. And I don't think you can either."

"But we have to," Chelsea insisted, her voice trembling as she tried to convince herself more than him. She knew the rules of their social circles, the expectations of their families. A scandal like this would ruin everything they'd worked so hard to build. She stepped away, creating a physical distance between them as she tried to reconstruct the walls she'd allowed to crumble.

"I don't know what your marriage is like," Joe began, his voice gentle yet firm, "but I know mine hasn't been the same in a long time." His eyes searched hers, looking for a flicker of understanding. "And something tells me you're not exactly thrilled with yours either."

Chelsea's heart thudded in her chest as she took in his words. The truth in them resonated deep within her, making it difficult to maintain her stance. She knew he wasn't wrong, but admitting it aloud was another matter entirely. "It's complicated," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just throw away everything I have with Terrence."

Joe nodded, his expression understanding. "I'm not asking you to," he assured her. "But I'm also not going to pretend that what just happened didn't mean something." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush her palm to her warm cheek. "I want to see you again, Chelsea. I want to explore this—whatever it is—between us."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to lean into it. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their situation pressing down on her. When she opened them, she found Joe's gaze still fixed on her, filled with a determination that she hadn't seen before. "Joe, we can't," she said, her voice a barely-there whisper. "This isn't right."

"I know," Joe replied, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "But sometimes, things that aren't right feel incredibly right." His hand dropped, and he took a step back, giving her the space she needed to breathe. "Look, I'm not asking you to leave Terrence or for us to run away together. But we both know we can't keep pretending we don't feel something. If we can find a way to do this without hurting anyone, I think we owe it to ourselves to see where it goes."

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing. The thought of being with Joe, of feeling alive again in a way she hadn't in years, was tempting beyond measure. But she was also a woman of integrity, and the thought of deceiving her husband and new friend was unbearable. She searched Joe's eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or insincerity. What she found instead was a man who was lost, just as she was, seeking solace in a connection that transcended their stagnant marriages.

"I think you should leave," Chelsea said finally, her voice trembling with the effort it took to keep her emotions in check. "I'm sorry, Joe, but we can't do this again. It's not fair to either of them."

Joe nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Okay," he murmured, "but you know where to find me if you change your mind." With a sigh, he pulled back, collected himself, and walked out the door. For a moment she watched him go, the ache in her chest growing with every step he took.

The days that followed were a tumultuous blend of guilt and longing. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying herself in contracts and negotiations to keep her mind off Joe. But every time she saw his car pull into the driveway next door, her resolve wavered. The memory of their illicit encounter burned into her every thought, tempting her to abandon caution and explore the depths of their shared desire.

Terrence was increasingly more absent, a side effect of his new position that required frequent travel and long hours. Chelsea's mind wandered to Joe during the lonely nights, the quiet house a punishing reminder of the void in her life. Her fantasies grew more daring with each passing day, and she found herself craving the thrill of their clandestine meeting. She could practically smell Joe's cologne still. It was dark, musky, and filled her with a hunger that she had never felt with Terrence.

Work proved to be the only respite from the chaotic whirlwind of emotions Chelsea felt. Each day at the office was a battle to keep her thoughts from drifting to Joe, the way his eyes had lit up when they talked, the warmth of his touch, and the raw passion that had overtaken them that night. Her interactions with Gianna had become that much more painful, knowing she was hiding such a massive secret from her friend. The weight of their affair grew heavier with every shared smile or casual wave between their houses.

Chelsea couldn't help the scoff that escaped her as she read through the loophole-ridden contract displayed on her computer screen. The office had been buzzing as usual, the Monday morning rush bringing in a wave of new cases and clients. With Terrence being so busy with his new role, she had logged more hours in, catching the attention of a senior partner at the firm. He had, not so subtly, hinted at a promotion to junior partner on the horizon if she kept up her current pace.

So she dove head first into her work, the pile of legal documents becoming a welcome distraction from the tempest of guilt and desire that swirled within her. Her days grew longer, her nights lonelier, and with each passing hour, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

Months ago she had known things with Terrence had grown stale, but now, with Joe's presence a constant reminder of what she was missing, the cracks in their marriage had become a chasm. The weight of her secret grew heavier with every encounter, yet she couldn't bring herself to confess.

Part of her knew that she was reluctant to confess because she was holding onto a bit of hope that things would change. That the infatuation she once held for the older, charming medical student would return. That the man who had swept her off her feet and promised her the world would remember that they had once been each other's everything. But with each passing day, she realized that hope was fading into the shadows of her reality.

If she was being honest with herself, the most disheartening part of her marriage was the fact that she couldn't tell if Terrence had noticed the change in her. His work kept him away more and more, and when he was home, it was as if he couldn't be bothered to see her, blind to the tumultuous emotions she wrestled with.

Maybe it hurt her so much because she knew he wasn't entirely oblivious. There were moments when she'd catch him looking at her with a hint of longing in his eyes, as if he knew she was slipping away but was too proud to ask why. There were others still when he would attempt to reconnect with her, hinting at their former passion with gentle touches and whispers. But it was only ever through sex that he seemed to try to bridge the gap between them, and even that had grown mechanical and forced.

The ringing of the office phone cut through her focus and Chelsea found herself eager to escape the claustrophobic walls of her thoughts. The caller ID revealed the incoming call from the reception's desk. "This is Chelsea Brooks," she answered in her professional tone, hoping it was a new client or an emergency that could occupy her mind and free her from the spiraling thoughts of her personal life.

The receptionist's voice was smooth, unknowing even, "Mrs. Brooks, there's a Mr. Joe Burrow here to see you. He said it's important and that he won't take up much of your time."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She had told Joe to stay away, yet here he was, barging into her workplace like he had every right to be there. "Tell him I'm busy," she instructed firmly, trying to keep her cool.

The receptionist's voice returned a moment later, "Mr. Burrow insists it's urgent, Mrs. Brooks. He says he'll wait if you're busy."

Chelsea sighed, her hand tightening around the phone. She couldn't risk a scene at work. Not with Joe. "Send him in," she said, resigned to the inevitable.

Joe entered her office with the same confidence he had that day in her kitchen, his tall frame and broad shoulders seemingly swallowing the space. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair. His tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places, reminding her of the power she felt when he was inside her.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with a hundred different ways to tell him that this couldn't continue. She had to end it before it destroyed everything she had worked so hard to build. "Joe, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

He stepped closer to her desk, his eyes glued to hers. "Chelsea, I can't stop thinking about you," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

Her chest tightened. She knew she should be firm, but the raw desire in his words made it difficult. "Joe, we agreed..." she started, but he cut her off.

"I know what we agreed," he said, his voice gruff with passion. "But I can't help it. When I see you with Terrence, it kills me. You deserve more than what he's giving you."

Chelsea felt the heat of his words, the truth of them burning through her resolve like a hot knife through butter. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond. "What about Gianna? Do you think this is what she deserves? For you to be here, showing up at my office, telling me you can't stop thinking about me?"

Joe took a step closer, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Gianna and I have our own issues, Chelsea. You know that. And I don't expect you to fix them. But I can't ignore what we have either. I can't let this go without knowing if there's something more to it."

Chelsea felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his body invading her space. The smell of his cologne, so different from Terrence's, was intoxicating. She wanted to lean into it, to let him take her again. But she knew she couldn't. Not here. Not now. "Joe, please," she whispered, her voice a plea for sanity. "Don't make it harder on me than it already is."

He stepped back, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a mix of regret and apology. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I just..." He trailed off, his hand raking through his hair. "I miss you."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was raw need. She stood up, the need to keep distance between them overwhelming. "Miss me?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "Joe, we can't. We're married to other people."

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching out to her. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But we can't ignore this either." His hand grazed her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "I need to feel you again, Chelsea."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or regret, but all she found was a deep, burning passion that mirrored her own. The room felt smaller, the air charged with a tension that was palpable. The sound of her own breathing was loud in her ears, her pulse racing with every beat.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. But Gianna's in Europe filming for the rest of the week, and I'd like to talk, really talk, over dinner. Just us," Joe said, his voice low and urgent. "Swing by around 8, I'll cook. It'll just be us, no expectations, no pressure."

Chelsea hesitated, Joe's gaze holding hers. The room seemed to spin around them, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. She knew she should say no, that she should put a stop to this dangerous dance before it spiraled out of control. But the memory of his touch, the way he made her feel alive, was too strong.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Joe stepped back, giving her space. "Think about it," he said gently. "I'll be waiting for you, whether you come tonight or not."

The rest of the day was a blur for Chelsea. Her mind raced with thoughts of Joe, their passionate encounters, and the life she had built with Terrence. She tried to focus on work, but her mind kept wandering. She knew that going to Joe's tonight was playing with fire, but she also knew that she was already burned. The flame between them had never truly been extinguished, and she was drawn to it like a moth to a candle.

When 8 PM rolled around, Chelsea found herself standing in front of Joe's house, her hand hovering over the doorbell. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. This was wrong, she thought. But then she remembered the emptiness she felt in her marriage, the lack of connection with Terrence, and the way Joe looked at her - like she was the only person in the world that mattered. She pushed the button and waited, her heart hammering in her chest. No going back now.

Joe answered the door, looking surprised yet pleased to see her. He was dressed casually, his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her body as she took in the sight of him. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, stepping aside to let her in. The house was filled with the aroma of something delicious cooking, and Chelsea's stomach rumbled in response.

They sat in the cozy dining room, the candlelight flickering across their faces. The dinner was simple yet exquisite, a far cry from the fancy meals they'd shared before. As they ate, Chelsea felt a sense of ease she hadn't experienced in months, a comfort that was intoxicating. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on their hopes, fears, and the paths that had led them to this moment.

For the first time in a long time, she laughed—truly laughed—at a man's jokes. The candlelight danced in Joe's eyes as he told her a story from his college days when he played quarterback for the Ohio State University before giving it all up to support Gianna's culinary dreams. But as the night grew later, the conversation grew heavier, and the weight of their situation settled on the room.

"Why do you stay with him?" Joe asked, his voice low and intense. The question hung in the air like the last note of a heartbreaking melody. Chelsea looked down at her plate, her appetite lost amidst the swirl of emotions. She knew he was referring to Terrence, but the question was more about her than her husband. She took a sip of wine, buying time to formulate a response.

"Because it's what's expected," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My family, Terrence's family... they've all imposed their idea of what our marriage should look like to be perfect." She paused, looking into Joe's eyes, searching for understanding. "And what we have... on paper, it is perfect. Successful careers, a beautiful home, the potential to have beautiful, intelligent children." She paused again, her voice thickening with emotion. "When I first met him, I just knew that we'd be here. I knew that I had to marry him. Because he was exactly what was expected of me, you know? From a good family, studying to be a neurosurgeon, it was all so destined. I couldn't say no."

Joe reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. His touch sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the passion that had been missing from her life for so long. "I gave up a lot to marry Gianna. My dreams, my career... all for her restaurant. With the show, it's like we're back in high school again. Everyone loves us, everyone thinks we're the perfect couple." He squeezed her hand gently. "But it's all just an act. I can't remember the last time we talked about anything real. Anything that wasn't about the restaurant or her show."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt, recognizing the echo of her own discontent in Joe's words. "So why do you stay?" she asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Joe's gaze drifted to the floor, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly at the skin on her hand. "Honestly, I don't know what the alternative is," he said, his voice thick with unspoken pain. "We broke up for a year when we were in college because of my football dreams, and she was so angry with me. Our moms, they were devastated. They’ve had our lives planned out since we started dating in high school."

Chelsea nodded, her own heart aching for him.

"I've spent my whole adult life making Gianna happy," Joe continued, his eyes returning to meet hers. "I gave up football. I make appearances on her show. I work in finance because it helps keep her restaurant afloat. And now..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts. "Some days I can't even tell if we're together because we truly love each other or because we're afraid of what everyone else would say."

Chelsea felt a knot in her stomach tighten. She knew the feeling all too well. Her own marriage had become a performance, a dance of appearances and expectations. "It's like you're trapped with no way out," she murmured, her voice filled with a sadness she hadn't realized she felt.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air. Chelsea knew that she should pull her hand away, stand up, and leave. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned closer to Joe, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You wanna know something really fucked up?" Chelsea said, her voice laced with a mix of anger and desperation. Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sometimes, when I'm with Terrence, all I can think about is you. How you make me feel, the way you touch me, the way you look at me." She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. "And then I hate myself for it. I'm supposed to love him, to only think about him, to only want him. But I can't."

Joe leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "You don't have to justify how you feel, Chelsea," he murmured. "Gigi and I have been married for 11 years, and I feel like she barely knows me. But when you showed up on my doorstep, it was like the wind got knocked out of me. You're all I think about."

Their faces were so close that Chelsea could feel the warmth of his breath. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But I don't know how to stop wanting this."

Joe reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he said softly. "But we can't keep pretending."

Their eyes held for a moment longer before Joe leaned in and kissed her, gentle but urgent. Chelsea's body responded immediately, her hand curling into his shirt as she pulled him closer. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues dancing together as the heat between them ignited once more.

"Damn," Joe hissed under his breath, his hands holding Chelsea's face in his hands. His thumbs traced the line of her jaw as they broke the kiss, both of them panting. "I want you so badly."

"I know," she replied, her voice a ragged whisper. "This sucks."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions thick in the air. Chelsea's heart pounded in her chest, the guilt she'd been feeling for months now mixed with something new—relief. It felt like a dam had burst, releasing all the pent-up emotion she'd been holding onto.

"So what do we do now?" Joe asked, his voice hoarse.

Chelsea looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and desire. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I guess we have to figure out where this goes. If we can keep it just between us. Just for the time being."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "Okay," he said. "But I need to tell you something." He took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "I'm falling for you, Chelsea. I'm falling for you so hard, I'm gonna do something stupid if I can't have you."

Chelsea's stomach flipped. She didn't know what to say. Her heart raced, torn between the love she had for Terrence and the fiery passion she felt for Joe. She took a moment, looking into his eyes, searching for answers. Finally, she spoke. "So have me."

The words hung in the air, and Joe leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed down her body, pulling her closer until she was straddling him on the dining room chair. Chelsea moaned into his mouth, the sound echoing through the quiet house. They were lost in each other, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been building for so long.

As they kissed, their hands explored, pulling at clothes and unbuckling belts. The air was electric with tension, and the smell of their arousal filled the room. They managed to undress, Joe again reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a condom. They didn't bother moving to the couch this time; the chair was as good as anywhere. Chelsea wrapped her legs around him, and Joe pushed into her, both moaning desperately into each other's mouths.

The sex was raw and unbridled, fueled by their months of repressed desire. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through Chelsea's body, and she could feel Joe's need growing more intense with every second. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync, as if they'd been doing this for years. Joe gripped her hips tightly, guiding her movements, her hands tugged at his dark blonde hair, her nails digging into his scalp. There should have been a hint of shame in the way they were acting, but all Chelsea felt was a fierce craving that only Joe could satisfy.

The chair creaked under their weight, a symphony of passionate sounds that filled the room. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she threw her head back, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Joe's eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a mix of power and vulnerability. They were risking everything for this fleeting moment, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming.

As their pace grew frantic, Chelsea felt the familiar tightness in her core that signaled an approaching climax. She bit down on Joe's shoulder to muffle her cries, her nails digging deeper into his skin. He grunted in response, his hands pressing harsh marks into her skin, as if he was trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. The tension grew, coiling tightly inside her until she couldn't hold back any longer. She came hard, her body shuddering around him, and Joe followed soon after, burying his face in her neck and groaning out his release.

They remained intertwined, panting and trembling, for several moments. Unlike the first time, however, Chelsea allowed herself to bask in the afterglow. Joe's arms were strong and warm around her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that soothed her racing heart. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, feeling the sticky warmth of their combined sweat. The guilt was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind, but it was dulled by the overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

Joe eventually pulled out, and they both stood, his hands reaching for her in an effort to redress her, his touch gentle yet still searing into her skin. Chelsea felt a strange mix of emotions: excitement, fear, and a deep-seated longing for more of what they had just shared. She allowed him to fix her clothes, her eyes watching his strong features, searching for any sign of regret or hesitation. But Joe's gaze remained steady, filled with a tenderness that she hadn't seen from Terrence in a long time.

"Thank you," Chelsea murmured as Joe tucked her shirt back into her pants, his hands lingering for a brief moment longer than necessary. The words felt strange in her mouth, a blend of gratitude and apology for what they had just done. He nodded, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip before dropping away.

They stepped out of the dining room, the air thick with their combined scents of arousal and the faint aroma of their lunch. Joe walked her to the door, his hand resting on the small of her back. As he opened it, Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. The sun had set, casting a soft glow over the neighborhood. The sight of the quiet, suburban street was a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions raging within her.

"Wait," Joe said suddenly, his hand on her arm as she stepped onto the porch. "Come here. Gimme a kiss."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't resist. She leaned in, her body colliding with his, and kissed him with the same passion that had just consumed them. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things they hadn't yet said out loud—their magnetism, their fear, and the understanding that there was no going back.

As they parted, Joe whispered, "I'll see you soon, okay?" His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded, not trusting her voice to respond. With one final squeeze of her hand, he stepped back, allowing her to leave. Chelsea walked home, her mind racing with thoughts of Joe and what had just transpired. She knew that she couldn't continue down this path without consequences, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was already lost in it.

That evening, as Terrence returned from work, Chelsea tried to slip back into her position, fixing dinner and asking about his day. But every time she glanced at him, she saw Joe's face, heard his voice, felt his touch. The guilt was a heavy weight that she couldn't ignore, and she wondered if it would ever get easier. Terrence seemed oblivious, his eyes lighting up when she asked him about his surgeries and consultations, hoping it would keep him talking, and keep her from thinking about the man next door.

The next two months passed in a blur of work, stolen moments, secret lunch dates, and heated exchanges between Chelsea and Joe. Each time they saw each other, the tension grew thicker, a palpable electricity that neither could ignore. Chelsea found herself looking forward to the nights when Terrence was at the hospital, the quiet house providing the perfect cover for their clandestine meetings. They tried to keep things casual, but every touch, every whispered word, felt like a declaration of something much deeper.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, Chelsea received a text from Joe. "Can you come over?" it read. She felt a thrill of excitement and a stab of guilt. She knew she should say no, that she needed to end this before it spun further out of control, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Terrence was away, again, off to San Francisco for a medical conference, leaving her with an empty house and an empty bed.

Chelsea slipped into something less than business casual, opting for a short, floral sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She knew Joe liked it—he had told her so the last time they were together. With a quick spritz of perfume and a final look in the mirror, she stepped out of her house and into the mild summer evening. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of the Chen's grandchildren running around in their backyard. She walked over to Joe's, her heart racing with every step.

When she arrived, he greeted her at the door with a smoldering look that sent her stomach into a frenzy. His tie was loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, showing a hint of the warm skin she had come to yearn for when she was away from him. "You look gorgeous," he murmured, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but friendly. Chelsea melted into him, letting his arms wrap around her and his hands roam her body. They stumbled into the living room, their kisses growing more desperate, as if they hadn't seen each other in years rather than mere days.

The dinner they had planned remained untouched, forgotten in the face of their overwhelming need for each other. They made their way upstairs, shedding their clothes along the way, leaving a trail of fabric that whispered their secrets through the quiet house. In the guest bedroom, Joe's large hands turned her around to face the mirror, pressing her against him as he kissed her neck. Chelsea could see their reflection, their bodies entwined, and the desire in their eyes as Joe's hands cupped her breasts, teasing her already hard nipples.

"I love watching you," Joe growled in her ear as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. Chelsea's breath hitched as his hands slid down her waist and around to the zipper of her dress. She felt the heat of his arousal pressing against her, and she knew that she wanted him just as badly. They had been playing this dangerous game for months now, and the thrill of it had only grown stronger.

"You're so down bad, Joey," Chelsea teased, her voice breathless as she reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair. He smirked in the mirror, his eyes dark with need. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over their bodies.

"Call me that again," Joe responded playfully, his hand slipping down to her ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Chelsea giggled, the sound a stark contrast to the heavy lust in the air.

"Joey?" Chelsea repeated with a grin, watching his expression in the mirror. "Is that what you want, baby?" She could feel his body tense with every word, his grip tightening slightly. "Want me to call you cute little names?"

"Chelsea," Joe groaned, his voice strained with restraint as he shook his head, blue eyes squeezing shut in concentration. "What do you want to call me?"

Chelsea leaned back into him, her eyes locked on their reflection. "Joey. Baby. Mine." The last word was a whisper, but it held the weight of their unspoken truth. He audibly swallowed, his hands moving to unzip her dress, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, leaving her in nothing but a matching set of skimpy, lace lingerie.

"Want me to be yours?" Joe murmured into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, spinning around to face him. "I want a lot of things," she said, her voice low and seductive. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, lingering kiss. His hands slid over her body, exploring every inch of her soft curves, as they kissed with an urgency that had been building for months.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathless whispers and the rustling of clothing as they undressed each other. The tension was palpable, a heady mix of excitement and guilt that only made the moment feel more forbidden and exhilarating. They tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entangled as they explored each other with hungry kisses and roaming hands. Chelsea felt alive in a way she hadn't in years, her skin tingling with every touch from Joe's rough, calloused hands.

"Get on your stomach, face the mirror, baby," Joe ordered, his voice thick with desire. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat as she obeyed, the coolness of the silk sheets against her skin making her shiver. Joe's strong hands gripped her hips, positioning her just right so that she could see their reflection in the full-length mirror. He slid into her from behind, their eyes locking as he began to thrust, slow and deep.

One hand steadied himself on the curve where her back met her ass, the other hand gripping the plush of her hip. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and completely owned in the best way possible. Each thrust was a declaration of his possession, a silent shout of possession echoing in the quiet room. Her cheek pressed into the cool silk as she watched their reflection. He looked so commanding, so powerful, and she looked blissed out of her mind. Her eyes met his in the mirror, the blue of his burning into hers, and she could see the raw hunger there. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Tell me you want this," Joe murmured in her ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Say it."

"I want this," Chelsea whispered, the words escaping her in a rush. "I want you."

Joe's eyes darkened, a smoldering intensity in his gaze that made Chelsea's knees wobble. He leaned over her, a thumb reaching underneath to tease her clit as he whispered, "Say it louder."

With a gasp, Chelsea's voice grew stronger, "I want you, Joe."

The room seemed to vibrate with the weight of her admission, the words echoing through the silent house like a confession whispered in a hallowed space. Joe's hand slipped away from her throbbing core, his touch replaced by the coolness of the air. He leaned back on his heels, pulling Chelsea up with him so she was fully exposed in front of the mirror, her body quivering with need. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She could feel his arousal leaking into the condom, warming her insides as he pushed into her, setting a rhythm that mirrored the erratic beat of her heart.

Their eyes locked in the reflection, a silent dance of passion and power that neither could deny. Chelsea's hands gripped his forearms as Joe's hands roamed her body, teasing her nipples, pressing into her needy clit. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Joe's strokes grew more demanding. She felt the tension coiling in her belly, her orgasm approaching, unstoppable and exhilarating.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. "You make me feel so good, baby. So, so good."

Joe's grip tightened on her hips, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his own release. "You're fuckin' everything to me, Chelsea," he grunted, his voice strained. "Look at yourself. Look at us."

Chelsea's eyes remained glued to the mirror, watching Joe's face contort with pleasure as he claimed her body. His words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of euphoria and trepidation. This wasn't just a casual fling anymore; it was love wrapped in a dark, illicit embrace. They climaxed together, their bodies trembling and skin slick with sweat.

They collapsed onto the bed, both trying to catch their breaths, their hearts beating in a chaotic symphony. The silence was deafening, filled with the weight of their shared secret. Joe leaned back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, Chelsea allowed herself to believe that this was real, that they could somehow make this work.

"How do you manage to do that?" Chelsea panted, rolling onto her side to face Joe. "Every single time."

Joe smirked, tracing a finger along her jawline. "It's all you, darling," he said, his voice smoky. "You do this to me. You come around me and suddenly I'm like a man who hasn't had water in days."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of regret or doubt, but she only found hunger and adoration. It was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't experienced with Terrence in a long time. The guilt of their infidelity was a constant presence, but in the throes of passion, it was a distant echo. They lay there, their bodies entwined, basking in the aftermath of their love-making. The scent of their desire lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of their connection.

They tore away from each other reluctantly, Chelsea needing to make a quick run to pick up dinner before Terrence returned from his shift. As she slipped into her clothes, Joe watched her with a sense of longing that made her heart ache. They'd agreed to keep this between them, but the cracks in their façade were starting to show.

"I'll text you later," Chelsea murmured, kissing him softly before slipping out the door. The pout on his lips almost drew her back in, his blue eyes clouded over with sadness as she left. She stepped into the cool evening air, trying to ignore the feeling that she was leaving a part of herself behind.

Her mind raced as she drove to a local Italian spot. How had it come to this? She'd never been the type to cheat, had never even thought about it. Yet here she was, carrying the weight of a love affair she didn't know how to end. Her phone buzzed with a message from Joe, a simple "I miss you already," that sent a warmth through her chest she hadn't felt in years. She replied with, "I'll see you soon. Promise," and forced herself to focus on the mundane task of picking up dinner.

When she got home, Terrence was already there, the smell of antiseptic lingering. He greeted her with a squeeze to her arm and took the bag of food from her hand. As they sat down to eat, that pesky sense of apathy spread through her chest. She didn't want to be here, with him, going through the motions of a loveless marriage. Her thoughts drifted back to Joe, and she felt a pang of regret for what she'd left behind.

"Did you hear me?" Terrence's voice pulled Chelsea back to reality. He was looking at her expectantly, a question hanging in the air. She realized she'd been lost in thought, her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she replied, snapping out of her Joe-induced trance.

Terrence raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of concern and annoyance. "I don't know why I bother sometimes," he muttered under his breath. "I said I might be promoted to head of the Neurosurgery department. It's longer hours, but that's why we moved here. So we can both achieve our dreams."

Chelsea's eyebrows furrowed, an unsavory sense of irony coating her tongue as she responded, "More hours? Terrence you worked 90 hours last week, how many more can you possibly take on?"

"It's what I have to do to be the best," he said, noticing the weariness in her voice. "What about you? Any big cases coming up?"

"Don't change the subject on me, Terrence. How effective could you possibly be when you're working almost 100 hours a week?" Chelsea retorted, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation. She had been trying to bring this up for months, but he always had a new excuse or a new goal to pursue. She was never her husband's priority.

Terrence sighed heavily, his eyes searching hers for a brief moment before he turned away to grab a beer from the fridge. "You know I have to make my mark," he said, his back to her. "It takes hard work to be the best."

Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched him, the coldness in her marriage starkly highlighted against the heat of her secret affair with Joe. "Yeah, I know," she murmured, trying to push down the resentment bubbling up. "But you're never home. You don't eat well, you don't sleep enough, and you're always stressed. That's not good for you and it's not good for your patients. What's the point of being the best if you can't even enjoy it?"

Terrence paused, his hand hovering over the fridge handle. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You don't get it, do you, Chelsea?" he said finally. "This isn't just about me. It's about our legacy, what we leave behind."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, feeling a surge of anger. "Oh, please. Legacy, huh? You know what our legacy is looking like right now? A tired, burnt-out doctor with a lonely, lawyer wife. Is that really what you want?" Terrence didn't answer, instead popping the cap on his beer and taking a long gulp.

"Does everything have to be about you, Chelsea?" Terrence said, his voice tight with frustration. "If you had a real, life or death job, maybe you'd understand. But you go drinking with celebrities and throw parties when someone signs their name on a dotted line. You don't know what real work is, Chelsea."

The room grew colder with each word, and Chelsea felt a sting of anger. She had worked hard to get where she was in the field, and she wasn't about to let him belittle her. "I'll tell you what's real work," she shot back, her voice rising. "It's trying to keep a marriage afloat when my husband is more in love with his career than he is with me. It's real work pretending to be satisfied with a man who can't even bother to make time for me! It's real work covering for you when your mother calls me every afternoon asking why you haven't spoken to her in a month!"

Terrence slammed the beer bottle on the counter, the sound echoing through the kitchen. "You think this is easy for me?" he yelled. "I'm trying to make a difference here, trying to be more than just another man with a fancy title! I'm doing this for you, Chelsea. For us!"

Chelsea's eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer to him. "Don't you dare say you're doing this for us. You're doing this for yourself and your ego! You haven't thought of me since we left our honeymoon. As a matter of fact, Terrence, tell me something. What's the name of my firm?"

Terrence's jaw tightened as he stared at her, unable to answer. The silence between them was deafening.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her chest heaving as her eyes began to cloud with tears. "Do you know what's pathetic?" she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "It's that I can't even be mad at you for not knowing the name of my firm. Because I've become so used to being second best in your eyes. I've accepted that your work comes first. That your success has to come at the cost of our marriage."

Terrence looked at her, his expression a mix of shock and pain. "Chelsea," he started, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Don't," she said, jerking away. "Don't touch me." She turned away from him, her eyes landing on the fridge, where their wedding photo stared back at her. They looked so happy then, so full of hope and promise. Now, it felt like a lie.

Terrence's silence was deafening as he took in her words. He knew she was unhappy, but he had always thought it was just a phase. That her passion would return once the dust of their new life in Cincinnati had settled. But now, hearing it laid out so starkly, he was forced to confront the truth.

"Chelsea," he finally managed, his voice thick with regret. "You know I love you. You're everything to me."

"No, I'm not, Terrence." she said firmly, her voice steadying. "If I was, you'd know what I do for a living. You'd know that my work isn't 'drinking with celebrities', you'd know that I was just going through the motions. That every day feels like I'm drowning in a sea of your ambition."

He took a step towards her, but she held up her hand. "Don't. You don't get to fix this with your charm. This isn't just about tonight."

Terrence stopped in his tracks, the weight of his wife's words sinking in. "If that's what you think of me, what could I possibly do to change your mind, huh? After everything I've given you?"

Chelsea faced him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm not doing this with you, Terrence. After a full day of drinking with celebrities, I'm exhausted." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she turned on her heels and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Terrence standing there, feeling more lost than ever before.

The days that followed were tense and fraught with unspoken tension. Terrence tried to make amends, bringing her flowers—notably, the wrong ones—and making grand romantic gestures, but Chelsea remained distant, her heart and mind elsewhere. Her thoughts swirled with Joe's touch, his whispers, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world that mattered. At work, she threw herself into her cases, finding refuge in the cutthroat world where the only battles she could control were the ones she waged on paper.

When Terrence announced that Joe invited him, and a few of the other guys in the neighborhood, to go golfing the next weekend, Chelsea couldn't even bring herself to care.

The day of the golf trip dawned bright and early. Terrence was practically bouncing out the door, eager to bond with his new neighbor and escape the suffocating silence that had settled over their marriage. Chelsea watched him go with a mix of resentment and relief. As the door clicked shut behind him, she felt the weight of their unresolved issues crash down on her, but she quickly shoved the thoughts aside, focusing instead on her plans to spend the day with her friends, popcorn and wine.

The green of the gold course stretched out before them, the crisp spring air carrying the faint scent of freshly trimmed grass. Terrence felt a strange sense of relief as he swung his club, sending the small white ball soaring into the sky. The conversation between the men was light, mostly about their jobs and the neighborhood gossip. Joe was completely carefree, his Cartier sunglasses reflecting the sun's rays. Terrence couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how relaxed he looked, especially knowing that Joe's job required so much less of him than his own demanding career.

"Chelsea's been on my ass about my hours this past week," Terrence complained, taking a sip from his water bottle as they approached the next hole. "It's like she thinks I don't give a shit about our marriage."

Joe's grip tightened around his golf club, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Well, you know what they say, work is the best form of birth control," he quipped, watching Terrence's face fall. "But in all seriousness, man, marriage isn't easy. Sometimes you've got to make sacrifices for the girl you love."

Terrence nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of Chelsea. "Yeah, I know. I just... I don't know. The last time we had sex, she straight up couldn't orgasm. It's like she's not even into it anymore." He took a swing, the ball soaring through the air in a perfect arc before landing on the green.

Bryan, one of the other golfers, chuckled cruelly. "Maybe she's taking care of herself, man." The lewd remark hung in the air, gaining a few snickers from the group.

Terrence shook his head grumbling, "Chelsea? Nah, she's too... I don't know, too classy for that." He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his water, reaching in the cooler for a beer instead.

Joe felt a strange mix of guilt and triumph at Terrence's words. "Classy or not, everyone has needs," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Inside, his mind reeled with the memory of Chelsea's cries of pleasure just a few nights ago. He knew all too well the passion she kept hidden from her husband.

"See, if that was me, Chelsea wouldn't be able to think about leaving the bedroom. They'd have to do a wellness check on her to see if she was alright," Chris, another one of the golfers, chimed in, slapping Terrence on the back.

Terrence's eyes narrowed slightly, the conversation suddenly taking a turn he wasn't expecting. "I know, I know." He took a sip of his beer. "We used to be like that when Chelsea was in college." He chuckled, but Joe didn't miss the hint of sadness in his voice. It was the same sadness Chelsea had confessed to feeling in their own relationship.

"Maybe it's just stress," Joe offered, trying to keep his tone light despite the dark thoughts swirling in his head. "The move, the new job, all that can really mess with someone's head." He knew it wasn't just stress. He had felt it in her touch, heard it in her moans when they were together. The desperation and craving for something more.

"Personally, I don't think I've ever seen you even think about tapping that ass," Bryan, one of Terrence's golfing buddies, chimed in, nudging Terrence with a laugh. "Not even a kiss. Terrence, you gotta do better."

Joe's jaw clenched, the comment hitting too close to home. He shot a warning glare at Bryan, who shrugged it off, oblivious to the tension he had just stirred up. Chris, the more foul-mouthed of the two spoke up again, "I'm telling you, if she was mine, she'd be begging for it every night."

Terrence's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he replied, "Alright, alright. Remember this is my wife we're talkin' about? Joe, you got any advice? Gianna's always skipping around all happy, I'm sure you've got some moves."

Joe's heart thumped in his chest. He felt like he was being goaded, and his mind raced with the desire to reveal all. Instead, he took a deep breath and replied, "Nah, man. I've only ever been with Gianna long-term, so I wouldn't know what to tell you." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he knew the truth was too explosive to share.

The golf game continued, but Joe's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but think of the times Chelsea had whispered sweet nothings in his ear, her nails digging into his skin as she climaxed. The way she looked at him with a mix of adoration and hunger was something Terrence would never know. Despite the guilt, Joe felt alive in a way he hadn't in years.

Back at the office, Chelsea was busy wrapping up a case when her phone buzzed with a text from Joe. "You have fans," it read. She raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding the context. He followed up with a, "Your husband's golf buddies talked about you a lot today." A chill ran down her spine, and she felt a strange mix of anger and arousal. She texted back, "What did they say?"

Joe's response was succinct. "Doesn't matter. They'll never get to hear your pretty voice moan for my cock." The possessive undertone was unmistakable, sending a jolt of excitement through Chelsea's body. She quickly put her phone away, trying to compose herself before her colleagues noticed her flustered state. She was torn between the thrill of Joe's claim and the fear of their secret being exposed.

Chelsea stepped out of her downtown office building, the cool breeze of Cincinnati's early autumn brushing against her cheeks. The scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street filled her nose, momentarily distracting her from the mountain of work emails waiting for her attention. She took a deep breath, letting the aroma mingle with the exhaust from the passing cars. It was a peculiar blend, but somehow Cincinnati was starting to feel more and more like home.

Though she was sure Joe had a lot to do with that, Chelsea couldn't ignore the comfort she felt when she thought of the city now. The two of them had been sneaking around for nearly five months, finding moments of stolen intimacy amidst their chaotic schedules. They had become experts at choosing the most discreet locations, the quietest times of the day, and the most unassuming town cars to keep their affair under wraps. As she walked towards their usual spot, a cozy Italian restaurant tucked away from prying eyes, Chelsea felt her heart race in anticipation of their lunch date.

Once a week, Chelsea and Joe met for lunch at the Italian restaurant. The hostess knew them by name and always reserved the same booth at the back, the one with the slightly faded red velvet seats that had seen better days but somehow added to the intimate charm of their secret rendezvous. The restaurant was typically empty this time of day, with a disinterested college student working the register and a tired-looking, middle aged chef peeking out from the kitchen. A soft murmur of Italian jazz would play, providing a backdrop to their stolen conversations. By this point, Chelsea knew the rotation of songs almost by heart.

Joe was already waiting, his tall frame bent slightly over the menu he always pretended to need to read. He was stubborn, alternating between his usual Margherita pizza and the chicken parmesan sandwich, but Chelsea knew he had it all memorized by heart. She slid into the booth opposite him, her eyes lingering on the strong line of his jaw, the way his tie was just loose enough to show a hint of the collarbone she was sure had a fading love bite where the bone met his shoulder.

"Hey, you," Joe said, looking up with a smile that never failed to make her stomach flutter.

Chelsea returned his smile, sliding the menu aside as she delicately placed her purse on the seat beside her. "Hi," she whispered, her voice soft and warm. "How was your morning?"

Joe leaned back, his eyes scanning the room to ensure no one of importance was within earshot. "The same as always," he replied with a hint of weariness. "Just trying to keep up with the numbers and the egos."

Chelsea nodded sympathetically. She knew the type; the kind of people who thought the world revolved around their next big deal or their latest acquisition. "Wish I could make it easier for you," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. Her wedding band felt heavy on her left ring finger, a constant reminder of the life she had chosen, or rather, the one that had chosen her.

Joe took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You do," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "More than you know."

Their conversation today was different from their usual lightness. There was a weight in the air, a heaviness that neither of them could shake off. It was as if the walls of their secret hideaway had grown thin, threatening to expose them at any moment. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she wondered if Joe was feeling the same way she was: trapped in a life that didn't quite fit.

"I've been thinking," Joe began, his eyes searching hers. "About us, I mean."

The words hung in the air like a question unasked. Chelsea felt the knot in her stomach tighten. "What about us?" she prodded, her voice steady despite the tumult in her chest.

Joe took a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I can't help but wonder if things might've been different if we had waited, if we hadn't married so young." His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of agreement or a spark of hope. "It's funny, I feel like a dumbass whenever I think that if I had just waited, I could've found you."

Chelsea felt the air thicken as the gravity of his words settled between them. The what-ifs of life had always been a silent companion to their secret affair, but today, they were speaking louder than ever. "I know," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the table. "I've been thinking about that too."

The waiter arrived, a young man with a crooked smile and a notepad at the ready. They ordered their usual, the routine comforting in its predictability. As he retreated, Joe leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. "Did I tell you much about my family?"

Chelsea tilted her head, trying to recall any details beyond the fact that he had worked hard to support them. "Not really," she said, intrigued.

Joe's eyes took on a distant look as he spoke about his childhood in a small town in southeastern Ohio. His parents had been high school sweethearts, just like he and Gianna, but they had struggled to make ends meet. His father had coached at the junior college while his mother held down two jobs to keep their heads above water. He had two older brothers, both of whom had moved away to escape the shadow of their hometown's limitations.

"They had big dreams for me," Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. "They pushed me to do better, to be better."

Chelsea nodded, understanding the unspoken burden of parental expectations all too well. "And football was your way out?"

Joe's smile was bittersweet. "Yeah, it was. I was okay at it. Nothing special, I had a couple of offers but I didn't want to be too far from my parents or Gianna. So I chose Ohio State, thinking I'd keep playing, maybe make it to the NFL." His eyes grew darker with the memory. "But Gianna was already set on becoming a chef, and she had this opportunity in New York to work under a big name. I couldn't ask her to wait for me."

Their food arrived, the warm scents of cheese and marinara sauce briefly interrupting the flow of their conversation. They picked at their plates, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea listened intently, her heart aching for the sacrifices Joe had made. Her own family had mapped out her life from birth: the right schools, the right job, the right husband. Terrence had been the perfect package, but she had never felt like she had made the choice.

"So what happened?" she asked softly.

Joe took a bite of his pizza, the cheese stretching like an elastic band before breaking with a satisfying snap. "I quit football," he said, swallowing before continuing. "I figured if I couldn't have it all, I'd focus on making sure Gianna got what she wanted. I transferred to NYU to be with her. That's when I started getting serious about finance. I figured if I couldn't throw a ball for a living, I might as well find another way to make some real money."

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. Chelsea reached across the table, her hand resting gently on his forearm. "It wasn't a complete loss," she said, trying to ease the tension. "Look at you now, CFO of a Fortune 500 company. I'm sure your family's proud of you."

Joe nodded, but his eyes remained clouded. "They are," he admitted. "But it's not the same. I gave up something I loved for… for what? A marriage that feels more like a business deal every day?" He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the window where passersby walked in pairs, oblivious to the turmoil inside the restaurant. "Gianna's always been the star, you know? And I've just… I've just been her plus-one, the guy who writes the checks and makes sure she's happy."

Chelsea's heart twisted at the raw honesty in Joe's voice. She knew all too well the feeling of being an accessory to someone else's ambition. "You said you retired both yours and Gianna's parents, right? That's a big deal, Joe," she offered, trying to remind him of his worth beyond his marriage.

He nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. "It is," he said, his voice devoid of the pride she knew should accompany such an achievement. "But it's like… I don't know. Like I've spent my whole life doing what everyone else wanted, and now…" His voice trailed off as he took a sip of his water, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. "I just don't know if I have anything left for myself."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt for her part in adding to Joe's burdens. "What about you?" he asked, his gaze back on her. "What would you have done if you weren't married to Terrence?"

She took a moment to consider the question, the weight of the words sitting heavily on her tongue. "I don't think I've ever really considered any alternative, honestly," she said, her eyes meeting his. "My parents had my life mapped out for me from the day I was born. They picked out everything. The perfect name, the perfect schools, the perfect career, and of course, the perfect husband. If it wasn't Terrence, it would've been someone just like him."

Joe leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty young when the two of you got seriou-"

"I was a sophomore in undergrad," Chelsea interrupted, the words spilling out like a confession. "Terrence was in medical school, already the golden boy of our families. He was charming, ambitious, same frat as my Dad, everything my parents wanted for me. They didn't even blink an eye when he proposed on my birthday less than a year after we met. It was like they had been waiting for it."

Joe nodded, understanding the weight of familial expectations. "And do you think you'd have chosen differently?" His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of regret or perhaps a hint of a road not taken.

Chelsea's gaze fell to the breadsticks on the table, her mind racing back to those college days filled with hope and promise. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe. But by the time I realized I didn't love him the way they wanted me to, it was too late. I was standing at the altar, reciting vows I didn't even believe in. Just holding my breath, hoping someone would stand up and shout their objections."

Joe reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You can't change the past," he said gently. "But you can decide what you want for the future."

Chelsea nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I know," she said, her voice wavering. "It's just hard to imagine a life without Terrence, without the life my parents worked so hard to set up for me. Anytime I try to imagine something different, it feels like I'm betraying them, like I'm throwing it all away."

Joe squeezed her hand tighter. "What do you think you'd be doing if you weren't married to Terrence?"

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. "I'd probably still be in law," she said after a moment. "But maybe I'd be dabbling in politics, like I always talked about in college. Or maybe I'd start my own firm, one that focused on helping people who couldn't afford representation."

Joe's eyes lit up with genuine interest. Pausing to think as he observed the way Chelsea's eyes sparkled with the thought of a life untethered from her current reality.

"What about you?" Chelsea asked, eager to shift the focus. "What would you be doing if you weren't married to Gianna?"

Joe's gaze grew distant, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd probably still be in finance," he said. "But I'd be traveling more, see the world." He chuckled, a sound that was a rare treat in their secret meetups. "But more importantly, I'd be taking chances, you know? Investing in little start-ups with potential instead of playing it safe."

Their conversation grew quieter, their food forgotten as they shared more of themselves than they ever had before. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in around them, insulating them from the outside world and the lives they had left at the door.

"Joe," Chelsea began, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want from this?" She searched his eyes, desperate for an answer that could give her clarity in the chaos of their situation.

Joe took a moment to consider, his thumb still tracing circles on her hand. "I want to be happy," he said finally. "I want what everyone wants, I guess. To love and be loved in return. To feel like I'm living my own life."

The words hung in the air like a confession, and for a moment, Chelsea felt like she could see right through to his soul. "What does that mean for us?" she asked, her voice barely audible above the clinking of silverware and the muffled conversations of other patrons.

Joe took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't want you to feel trapped, Chelsea. I want you to be able to explore those things you've always talked about. If we can help each other find happiness, maybe that's enough for now."

Chelsea felt a tear slip down her cheek. "It's just…" she began, her voice cracking. "I've never felt like I could disappoint my family. They've given me so much, and I owe them so much."

Joe leaned in, his voice gentle. "But what about what you owe to yourself?"

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a reflection of the same yearning she felt. "I just don't know how to do that without letting them down," she confessed. "My identity is so tied up in being the successful daughter, the perfect wife. What happens when I'm just… Chelsea?"

Joe's smile was kind, understanding. "You're more than that already," he said. "But I get it. Sometimes it feels like we're all just playing roles, huh?"

The waiter refilled their water glasses, oblivious to the gravity of the conversation happening in the dimly lit corner booth. Chelsea nodded, taking a sip to gather her thoughts. "To this day, I slip up and forget that I'm 'Mrs. Brooks' and not 'Miss Hayes'." She chuckled sadly. "It's like I'm watching someone who looks like me live a life I didn't choose."

Joe leaned in closer, his voice low and earnest. "I was just Joey Burrow, the kid who could throw a football pretty good. But then I became 'Gianna's husband' and I wonder if I lost myself in that transition." His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding. "I know we can't change who we are or where we come from, but maybe we can start making choices that feel more like us."

Chelsea nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. "It's just…" she began, her voice trailing off. "What if we make the wrong choice?"

Joe's expression grew solemn. "There's no way to know," he said. "But I'd rather live with the regret of a risk taken than the regret of a life never lived. Gianna and I haven't been happy for a long time. I keep telling myself it's for the sake of stability, for Gianna's brand, but the truth is, I've been living for her happiness, not my own." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm tired of pretending."

Chelsea felt a lump form in her throat. The honesty in Joe's voice was stark and raw, mirroring her own thoughts. "Terrence still doesn't know what it is I do all day," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "He's so caught up in his own world, he doesn't see me. I'm just another trophy for him to show off to his colleagues and family."

Joe nodded, his gaze never wavering from hers. "We both know what it's like to be someone else's accessory." He took another deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say next. "But I'm not going to lie to you, Chels. Being with you…it's the first time in a long time I've felt like myself again. It's refreshing. You're refreshing."

Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "I feel the same way," she confessed.

"Then maybe," Joe began, his voice hopeful, "we could start making choices that lead to us being happy. Together."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, the implication of his words sinking in. The thought of being with Joe, openly and without fear of judgment, was both terrifying and exhilarating. She took a moment to process, her mind racing with the consequences and the potential joy that could come from such a choice.

"I've been holding off on saying this," Joe continued, reaching for his water after he quickly glanced at his watch. "But I love you. I know it's crazy, given the circumstances, but I think I have for a while now."

Chelsea's breath caught in her throat. Love? That was a word she hadn't dared to entertain in the context of their affair. She felt the weight of their secret pressing down on her, the fear of the consequences of admitting such a powerful emotion. But when she looked into Joe's eyes, she saw something that she hadn't seen in a very long time: genuine affection, untainted by duty or expectation.

"Joe," she said, her voice barely audible over the soft jazz playing in the background. "That's… I'm not sure how to respond to that."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of his confession. "You don't have to say it back," he said quickly. "I just wanted you to know. I need you to know that this isn't just about the physical stuff for me. You're more than that. You're the only one who gets it, who gets me."

The air grew thick with the unspoken words hanging between them. Chelsea felt the weight of his love like a warm blanket, comforting yet suffocating. She had never allowed herself to believe that someone could love her beyond her status or her marriage to Terrence. But Joe was different; he saw the real her, the woman buried beneath the layers of expectations and responsibilities.

"I… I love you too, Joe. I didn't know how to say it," Chelsea admitted, her voice trembling. The words felt strange on her lips, but also incredibly right. For the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was lying to herself or to someone else. "But I'm sure I do. You feel right."

Joe's smile grew, a warm light in the dim restaurant. He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. "I know we're in a tough spot, Chelsea," he said, his voice earnest. "But I want us to find a way to be happy together. To build a life that's ours, not anyone else's."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all she saw was a man who had found something precious in her, something she hadn't realized she had lost until she saw it reflected in his gaze. Casting a quick glance around the empty restaurant, Chelsea leaned in, cupping Joe's face in her hands to kiss him. It was a soft, lingering kiss filled with a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of.

When they finally pulled apart, the silence was deafening. The realization of their confession settled over them like a warm blanket, both comforting and suffocating. "I need to get back to the office," Joe said, his voice husky with emotion.

Chelsea nodded, her eyes still locked on his. "Me too," she said, the gravity of their conversation still weighing heavily on her. They both knew that their lunch break was over, but the world outside the restaurant felt foreign and daunting.

They gathered their things and Joe helped her with her coat, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary on her arm. As they stepped out into the cold Cincinnati afternoon, the reality of their situation crashed down on them like a wave. They walked side by side, their hands brushing but not quite touching, the air between them charged with a tension that was no longer just sexual.

"I'll see you next week," Joe said, his voice a mix of hope and resignation. "It's about seven days too long, but I'll take what I can get."

Chelsea nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Seven days," she echoed, the number feeling both endless and insignificant. They stood outside the restaurant, the chilly breeze a stark contrast to the warmth they had shared inside.

"Yeah," Joe said, his eyes searching hers. "You'll text me when you get back to the firm?"

"I will," Chelsea promised, her hand reaching for her phone to ensure it was still there. The cold air stung her cheeks, reminding her of the world waiting outside their bubble. "And Joe…" she called out as he started to walk away. He turned back to her, the wind ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Thank you."

Joe stopped in his tracks, his breath puffing out from his lips as he mouthed, "I love you," before turning back around. Chelsea watched him disappear into the crowd of people, feeling a pang of something akin to teenaged infatuation. As she walked towards her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that their lunch had irrevocably changed things. The weight of their confessions hung heavy in the air, a secret they both now had to carry.

The next month, Chelsea was whisked off to a work trip in Dayton. Her job required her to be there for a few days, and as much as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Joe. She missed the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel alive again. On the second night of her trip, she found herself in her hotel room, alone with nothing but room service and a bottle of wine for company. The silence was deafening, and she couldn't ignore the ache between her legs that Joe so effortlessly satisfied.

Manicured fingertips reached for her phone, tapping on Joe's contact with a sense of urgency. "Miss me?" he answered, his voice deep and smooth, like a fine whiskey. Chelsea bit her lip, her heart racing as she whispered into the phone, "I need to see you."

"Aren't you in Dayton this week?" Joe's voice held a hint of surprise.

"And?" Chelsea challenged, biting at her bottom lip. She could almost see the heave of his chest as he sighed through the phone. Suppressing a giggle, she waited for his response.

"Goddammit, Chelsea," Joe murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Send me the address, I'll be there in 45."

"Joey, it's an hour drive," Chelsea protested, her voice a blend of excitement and caution.

"I'll do it in 40, don't argue with me," Joe said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Just send me the damn address before I lose my mind."

The anticipation grew as Chelsea sent him the details, her heart hammering in her chest like a drumline. She took a quick shower to wash off the day's stress and slipped into a lazy pair of Calvin Kleins. The minutes ticked by like hours until finally, she heard the door to her hotel room click open. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, her eyes widening at the sight of Joe in a crisp suit, looking like a man on a mission.

"I came straight from work," Joe said, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. He dropped his briefcase and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing his broad shoulders and the muscular physique Chelsea craved. She stepped into his arms, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth as if he'd been starving for her taste. Their kiss was desperate, hungry, and filled with the kind of passion that could never be contained within their marriages.

The room was suffocating with the scent of their desire as they tugged at each other's clothes, needing to feel skin on skin. Joe's hands were everywhere, tracing the contours of Chelsea's body with a familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. They stumbled backward to the bed, tearing away the barriers between them, leaving a trail of fabric scattered across the floor.

"So fuckin' needy for me, begging me to drive an hour just to fuck you?" Joe whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer, his hands cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Chelsea felt a thrill of arousal at his words, biting her lip to hold back a moan. He carried her to the bed and tossed her down onto the soft hotel comforter. He stepped back and took a moment to admire her, his eyes raking over her naked body as if she were a feast laid out just for him.

"Bless me," Chelsea murmured, her eyes locked on Joe's as he undid his tie with purposeful strokes. She watched as each button of his shirt came undone, revealing his chest, his abs, the V of muscle that pointed down to the bulge in his trousers. He stepped closer, kicking off his shoes and dropping his pants. He was already hard for her, and the sight made her wetter.

"You're so beautiful," Joe said, his voice thick with desire. He climbed onto the bed and claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her feel alive. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach, and Chelsea arched her back, eager for his touch. His mouth found her clit, and she gasped as he flicked his tongue against it, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Joe's skilled hands worked their magic as he brought her to the edge, her moans growing louder with each stroke. Chelsea's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, her hips bucking against his mouth. She felt herself falling apart, her orgasm building like a crescendo. And when it hit, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with pleasure.

He slid up her body and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, the taste of her own desire on his lips. Chelsea wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him into her. He filled her completely, stretching her with his thickness. They moved together in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, a dance of passion and need that transcended their marriages. The sounds of their skin slapping together melded with their gasps and moans, echoing in the quiet hotel room.

It was uninhibited, raw, and absolutely everything Chelsea had been craving. With every thrust, Joe seemed to claim a piece of her she hadn't realized she had been holding back. She clawed at his back, her nails digging in as she matched his intensity. They moved as one, their breaths mingling in the air, their hearts beating a tempo of pure desire. The room was filled with the scent of their passion, the heat from their bodies raising the temperature of the space.

"I think you enjoy this too much," Joe murmured, his breath hot against Chelsea's ear as he drove into her.

"You think?" she quipped, her voice thick with sarcasm.

He smirked, his blue eyes piercing hers. "I know."

The truth of his words stung, but she didn't refute them. Instead, she pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and taking control. She set the pace now, her hips rolling and grinding against him, drawing out every delicious sensation. Joe's hands found her breasts, teasing and playing as she rode him, their eyes locked in a silent challenge.

"What? You want me to feel guilty about enjoying this?" Chelsea challenged, her voice low and husky as she rocked her hips against Joe's. "Want me to feel guilty—fuck, yes—about the way you get me so wet, so hot, so—" she gasped as he sank his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, "—so fucking desperate to feel you inside me?"

Joe's eyes darkened at her words, his grip on her hips tightening. "I could never ask you to feel guilty about that, baby. I know he isn't giving you what you need."

Chelsea moaned at his words, her hips moving faster as she neared another peak. "And her?" she panted, needing to hear him acknowledge it. "You ever fuck her like this?"

Joe's expression grew serious. "No, never." He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "I haven't touched her in months, baby. Not since I first saw you."

The confession sent a thrill through Chelsea's body, and she leaned down to kiss him hard, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she rode him with a newfound urgency. The truth was a heady aphrodisiac, making her feel even more alive and desired. She didn't want to think about the consequences or the pain they were causing. Right now, all that mattered was Joe's cock filling her up and the sound of their skin slapping together.

"I love you, Joey," Chelsea murmured against his lips, the words slipping out as he began to buck up into her.

He stilled beneath her, his eyes searching hers. "You can't just drop that shit, Chelsea," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to hold off his climax. "You know what that does to me."

Chelsea felt a surge of power, her heart racing as she leaned back slightly to look down at him. "You're all I think about. I love you." Her words were like a drug, pushing him closer to the edge. He groaned, his hands clutching her hips, and she knew she had him.

"Fuck," Joe growled, his eyes snapping open. "I love you too. So much it scares me." His hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as he began to thrust up into her. The room was filled with their desperate moans and gasps, their bodies moving in a symphony of passion that neither of them had ever felt before.

Their lovemaking grew more intense, the emotions bubbling up inside of them fueling the fire between them. They were no longer just two people caught in a moment of passion; they were two souls confessing their love in the most primal of ways. Chelsea felt her orgasm building, her entire body tightening around Joe as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

"Chelsea," he moaned, his voice thick with lust and love. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, and she knew he was close too. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. It was all she needed. With a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain, she shuddered around him, her muscles clenching as she came hard.

Joe watched her, his own climax following close behind, his eyes never leaving hers. They held onto each other tightly as they rode the waves of pleasure, their breathing heavy and erratic. When it was over, Chelsea collapsed on top of him, her body feeling boneless and satisfied. They lay there for a moment, their hearts pounding in unison, their limbs tangled together.

"Joe," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he kissed her forehead. "I know," he murmured, understanding the unspoken question in her eyes. They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and now they had to deal with the consequences.

The silence was heavy as they both thought about the future of their affair. The hotel room felt like a sanctuary, a bubble where the outside world couldn't touch them. But reality waited just beyond the door, and they both knew it couldn't last forever.

Joe pulled her closer, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I know it's not my place to say, but maybe it's time to think about what you really want," he murmured. "You deserve to be happy, Chelsea. If you want something different, if you want more from your marriage, you should take it. Whether it's with me or not, I just want you to be happy."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a genuine concern that she hadn't seen in a long time from Terrence. She knew Joe was right, but the weight of expectations and the fear of losing what she had built was too much. She leaned her forehead against his, whispering, "If I pull the trigger, everything changes. Our families, our reputations, our lives."

"But if you don't," Joe countered, "are you just going to keep living like this?" His voice was soft, but the question hit hard. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach, acknowledging the truth in his words.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love, fear, and indecision. "I don't know what's going to happen," she admitted. "But I can't keep lying to them, Joe. And I can't keep lying to myself. I love you, but I'm terrified."

Joe kissed her gently. "I know, and I'm scared too. But we can't keep going on like this. We need to make a choice." He held her tightly, feeling her warmth, her heart racing against his chest. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken truth of what lay ahead.

The Dayton trip came and went, leaving Chelsea fluttering from room to room, preparing her home for her parents' first visit to Cincinnati. She was a tornado of emotions, trying to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Joe and the love they'd confessed in that hotel room. She knew she needed to keep up appearances, especially with her mother's keen eye for detail.

The doorbell chimed, pulling her out of her reverie, and she took a deep breath, pasting on a smile before opening the door. Her parents swept in, her mother's arms wide as she greeted her with a tight hug. "Look at you, living the dream," she said, her voice filled with pride. Chelsea's father nodded in approval, shaking Terrence's hand firmly.

The four of them sat down for dinner, the tension palpable as they made small talk. When the doorbell rang, Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She excused herself, expecting it to be a delivery or a neighbor. To her shock, it was Gianna and Joe. The celebrity chef was holding a bottle of wine, her perfectly manicured hand outstretched. "I saw your parents flew in. Thought we'd pop by," she said, her smile bright and genuine. Chelsea managed to keep her cool, inviting them inside.

Joe's gaze lingered on Chelsea, a silent apology in his eyes. She knew he could feel the electricity between them, the secret they shared threatening to crackle into the open. Terrence was oblivious, chuckling at something Joe said about golf as they settled into the living room. Naturally, Gianna dazzled everyone with stories of her latest television appearances and culinary adventures. Chelsea's parents were delightfully entertained, nodding along and sharing their own tales with their daughter's neighbors.

As the evening progressed, Chelsea's mother stood, requesting her daughter join her in the kitchen for a brief moment. None the wiser, Chelsea followed, trying to play it cool despite the knowledge that Joe was likely watching her leave.

In the kitchen, her mother's eyes searched hers, a stern look replacing her earlier smile. "I hope you know what you're doing, Chelsea," she whispered, the clinking of glasses from the living room a stark contrast to the gravity of her words.

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. "Momma? What are you talking about?" she replied, feigning ignorance as she reached for a glass of water to steady her nerves.

Her mother leaned in closer, her voice low. "I've never seen you look at a man like that before, not even Terrence, the man who's supposed to be your husband. What are you doing with that man, baby?"

Chelsea froze, attempting to collect herself before responding. "Momma, I don't know what you think you saw, but nothing is happening. He's just a neighbor." She took a sip of water, trying to ease the dryness in her mouth.

Her mother's gaze was unwavering. "Chelsea, I've been married to your father for thirty-five years. I know love when I see it and I know lust when I see it. And let me tell you, honey, you don't got either one of those for Terrence." She paused, giving her daughter a moment to absorb her words before continuing. "And compared to the way you look at Joseph, I don't think you ever have."

The room grew still, the air thick with accusation and truth. Chelsea felt the heat rising in her cheeks but she kept her composure. "Momma, you're reading too much into it," she replied, trying to lighten the mood with a forced smile. "Nothing to worry about."

Her mother's expression softened, but the knowing glint in her eye didn't fade. "Look, baby," she said, taking Chelsea's hand, "I'm not judging you. But I am your mother, and I know you. I want you to be happy. And if that means making some hard choices, then maybe it's time for you to consider what truly makes you happy. I know I have put a lot of pressure on you to find a good man, to marry well, and I'm sorry. I really am. But that doesn't mean you should settle for someone who doesn't take care of you."

Chelsea felt the weight of her mother's words, and she couldn't help but look over at Joe, who was chuckling at a story Gianna was telling. His eyes caught hers briefly, and she saw a hint of understanding in them, as if he knew what she was feeling. She turned back to her mother, unsure of what to say. "Momma, I'm okay. Really. Terrence is a good man. We're just going through a rough patch, that's all. Don't worry about me."

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. "Chelsea, I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about you wasting your life on a man who doesn't make you feel like the way you should." She took a deep breath. "Your father and I, we have our problems, but we always make sure to keep the spark alive. And let me tell you, the way you look at Joseph? That's a spark that could light up the whole damn neighborhood."

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug, whispering into her ear, "Just remember, baby, you deserve to be happy. And if that happiness isn't with Terrence, then maybe it's with someone else. I will always be proud of you, no matter what." With a knowing smile, she released her and returned to the dinner table. Chelsea felt a mix of relief and fear wash over her. It wasn't the first time her mother had hinted at her dissatisfaction with Terrence, but it was the first time she'd ever suggested that Chelsea's eye had wandered.

The evening ended with polite goodbyes and promises of future visits. As Joe and Gianna left, Joe gave Chelsea one last lingering look that sent shivers down her spine. Terrence, blissfully unaware of the tension, collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost instantly. But as Chelsea lay in bed, her thoughts were consumed by Joe's words and her mother's warning. Was she really just going through a phase, or had she found something real? And if so, was it worth risking everything for?

The following days were a blur of work, social engagements, and secret glances. Chelsea and Joe danced around each other, the air thick with unspoken desires and fears. They didn't dare to text or call, not with their spouses so close by, but the silence between them was deafening. It was during one particularly stressful workday that Chelsea decided she needed to get out of the office. She drove aimlessly, her mind racing until she found herself parked outside Joe's office building.

Her heart pounding, she waited until she saw him emerge, his tall frame cutting a stark contrast against the grey concrete. He looked surprised when he saw her, but there was something in his eyes that told her he'd been expecting this. They decided to grab a quick lunch at a nearby café, choosing a secluded booth in the back. The conversation was stilted at first, filled with awkward pauses and forced laughter, but eventually, the dam broke. They talked about their marriages, their dreams, their fears, and their longing for something more. Chelsea felt as though she was peeling back layers of herself she hadn't realized were there, revealing parts she'd kept hidden even from her own husband.

"I hired a divorce attorney," Joe announced, his voice low and serious. "I can't keep pretending anymore, Chelsea."

Her eyes widened, and she took a sip of her iced tea, the condensation on the glass slipping over her fingers. "Okay," she breathed out. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. Chelsea felt a rush of emotions—relief, excitement, fear, and guilt. She knew that she felt the same way, that she couldn't continue living a lie, but the prospect of the truth coming to light was terrifying. She took a deep breath and leaned in, her eyes finding Joe's.

"Look, I don't expect you to leave Terrence today, or even a month from now," Joe said, his gaze focused on hers. "But I want you to know that I'm serious about this. I haven't seen Gianna in weeks, and when I do, it's for appearances only. Even if we weren't doing this," he gestured between them, "I would've ended it because neither of us is happy and I know she's just waiting for me to take the first step."

Chelsea's stomach twisted into knots. The thought of leaving Terrence and the life she'd built with him was overwhelming. Yet, she felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could have the love she craved with Joe. She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll think about it," she murmured.

They finished their lunch in near silence, the conversation drifting back to work and the mundane. It was a strange dance of normalcy in the face of a revelation that could shatter their worlds. When the check came, Joe reached for it, his hand brushing hers. The electricity that passed between them was undeniable. As they stood to leave, Chelsea felt a strange mix of excitement and dread.

They both retreated back to their own offices as the day wound down. As Chelsea drove back home, every red light, every stop sign, felt like a countdown to a moment that would change everything. When she pulled into her driveway, the house was dark. Terrence was still at the hospital. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Once inside, she poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, the same couch where she and Joe had first given into temptation. She couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her at the memory. But she knew that if she acted on Joe’s confession, she would be crossing a line from which there was no returning. The weight of their shared secret grew heavier by the second.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Joe, "You okay?"

Chelsea took a sip of wine, the liquid doing little to soothe her nerves. She responded, "Yeah, just processing."

Joe's reply was almost instant, "We don't have to rush into anything. I just needed you to know where I stand."

The gravity of Joe's words sank in. Chelsea knew that once they made this move, there would be no going back. The walls of her marriage, which had felt so stifling, now felt like a cocoon protecting her from the inevitable storm that lay ahead. But as she sat there, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her, she knew she didn't want to be protected anymore. She wanted the raw, unfiltered passion that Joe brought to her life.

The next night, Chelsea had resolved to break the news to Terrence. She waited for him to come home from a short day of consultations, her heart racing as she heard his footsteps through the front door. She took a deep breath as she opened the door, a bit miffed but not surprised when he completely brushed past her, heading for their drinks cart without so much as a hello. He was always like this after a day of dealing with patients and their families—distant, cold.

"Terrence, can we talk?" she called out, her voice echoing through their grand foyer. He didn’t respond immediately, taking his sweet time to fix himself a whiskey on the rocks before finally walking into the living room and reaching for the TV remote. Chelsea bit her lip, steeling herself for the conversation she’d been dreading. She’d picked out her words carefully, rehearsing the speech in her mind a hundred times. But now, with him so disconnected, it was harder than she thought.

He took a sip, his eyes never leaving the flickering screen. "What is it, Chelsea?"

Chelsea took a step closer to him, her heart hammering in her chest. "I have to tell you something. It's important."

"Yeah, okay," Terrence said distractedly, his gaze still glued to the TV.

Chelsea took a deep breath, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. "Terrence, I've been thinking a lot about us."

He finally tore his eyes away from the TV, looking at her with a mix of irritation and curiosity. "Chelsea, what is it?" The words were choppy, as if he had to force them out.

"I'm having an affair with Joe," Chelsea blurted out, the words leaving her mouth before she could second-guess herself. Terrence froze, the glass of whiskey halfway to his lips. For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the low volume from the TV. His eyes grew wide, and his grip on the glass tightened.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Terrence's voice was low, a warning growl. He set the drink down hard on the coffee table, the ice clinking against the glass.

Chelsea swallowed, her throat dry. "I've been seeing Joe. We've been having an affair."

Terrence's face contorted into a mask of rage and disbelief. He took a step towards her, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You what? How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, Terrence," Chelsea said, her voice trembling as she took a step back.

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say?" Terrence's voice was a thunderstorm, his eyes flashing with anger. He took another step closer to her, and she could almost feel the heat of his rage. "How long has this been going on?"

"It just happened," Chelsea lied, her voice shaking. "I'm filing for divorce."

Terrence's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare do this to me, Chelsea." He stepped closer, his towering frame looming over her. "We had an agreement, a promise to each other and our families."

"I know, but I can't help how I feel," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not happy anymore, Terrence."

"You're not happy?" Terrence's voice was incredulous. "So you go fuck your married neighbor? Do you hear yourself?"

Chelsea flinched at the harshness of his words, but she stood her ground. "It's not just that, Terrence. We've been drifting apart for a while now. We're not the same people we were when we met in college."

"You think I don't know that?" Terrence snapped, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Does Gianna know that you fucked her husband?"

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt stab at her. "I don't know, Terrence. That's on Joe to tell her."

Terrence took another step towards her, his breath hot on her face. "You're unbelievable. You're going to ruin everything we've built together."

Chelsea's eyes filled with tears. "I know, but I can't keep living like this. I need more than just a good last name and a nice house."

Terrence's expression softened slightly, but the anger was still a palpable force between them. "What do you want from me, Chelsea? What could I possibly do to fix this?"

"It's not about fixing, Terrence," she said, her voice firm but filled with sadness. "It's about accepting that we're not right for each other anymore."

Terrence's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of doubt or regret. Finding none, he sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say. I just... I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Chelsea replied, wiping away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. "I just need you to understand that I'm walking away. I don't expect you to be okay with it, but I need you to respect my decision."

The silence between them grew thick, each one of Terrence's breaths seemingly louder than the last. Finally, he spoke again, his voice quieter, more measured. "What now, Chelsea? What's your plan?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. "I'm going to file for divorce. I booked a room at Marriott Downtown for a few days. I need some space to think."

Terrence's face fell, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "And Joe? What about him?"

"What about him?" Chelsea challenged, her voice laced with defensiveness. "He's going to leave Gianna. He loves me."

Terrence scoffed. "Love? You think this is love? You're throwing away our marriage for a quick fuck and a few moments of excitement? That's not love, Chelsea."

Chelsea's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to define love for me, Terrence. You don't get to tell me what I feel. Even if Joe doesn't leave Gianna, I need to find myself again. This isn't just about sex. It's about connection and what I need to be happy."

Terrence stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I can't believe this is happening." He turned away from her, his hand rubbing at his forehead. "Go to the Marriott, whatever. Just do me a favor and break the news to our parents yourself. Tell them what the fuck you did, yeah?"

With that, he stormed out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. Chelsea stood there, trembling, her heart racing in her chest. She had never seen Terrence like this before—so raw, so broken. The reality of what she had done began to sink in, and she felt the weight of their crumbling marriage pressing down on her. She picked up her phone, staring at the screen, Joe's contact staring back at her but she couldn't bring herself to press the call button.

Instead, she turned and walked out the front door, the cool night air hitting her like a slap in the face. The quietness of the neighborhood was eerie, a stark contrast to the tumultuous storm brewing in her soul. She wandered the streets, her thoughts racing. Was this love? Was she being selfish? Would she regret this? But with each step, she felt a sense of relief, as if she were shedding a heavy burden she had been carrying for too long.

The drive was a blur of streetlights and the occasional passing car. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was driving away from everything she had ever known and into the unknown. Her mind was racing with the consequences of her actions, the potential for scandal, and the pain she knew she had caused Terrence. Yet, as she pulled into the Marriott parking lot, she felt a strange sense of liberation. For the first time in years, she was making a decision solely for herself.

In the hotel room, Chelsea took a deep breath and picked up the phone, her hand shaking. She dialed Joe's number, the anticipation building with each ring. When he finally answered, she could hear the tension in his voice. "Hey," she whispered, "I did it. Terrence knows."

There was a heavy pause on the other end, and then Joe exhaled. It was a deep, relieved sigh, one that told her everything she needed to know about his reaction. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

"Honestly, yeah," she replied truthfully, "I think I've been holding this in for so long that it feels like a weight has been lifted. What about you?"

Joe took a moment before speaking, "It was weird, she didn't fight with me. Just said 'okay' and asked me to leave," Despite the tension in his voice, Chelsea couldn't miss the hint of relief. "But it's the right thing to do, I know it is."

"What's going to happen now?" she asked, her heart racing.

"I could come see you?" Joe suggested tentatively, "We could talk about it in person."

Chelsea felt a warm rush of excitement at the thought. "Okay," she murmured, "I'll be waiting." She hung up the phone and paced the room, trying to calm her racing thoughts. When Joe finally arrived, the tension between them was palpable. He looked tired, his eyes carrying the weight of the day's revelations. His arms were warm, strong, and comforting as he pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean for it to go down like that."

Joe held her tighter, his breath warm against her hair. "It's okay," he murmured, "This is on me too. We both knew this wasn't going to be easy." He led her to the bed, his hand never leaving hers, and they sat down. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

"I want you to know that I'm all in," Joe said, his voice firm but gentle, breaking the silence. "Whatever happens next, I'm here for you. Romantically or otherwise."

Chelsea looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. All she found was a fierce determination that mirrored her own. "I'm all in too," she whispered, her heart swelling with emotion.

They lay down together, their bodies fitting perfectly. Chelsea felt a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in years. Joe kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, before capturing her lips in a gentle, yet urgent kiss. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate, as their bodies began to move in sync. They made love slowly, savoring each touch, each caress, as if it were the first and last time. Their moans filled the quiet hotel room, echoing off the walls in sweet surrender.

Afterwards, they lay entwined, the silence between them no longer filled with tension but a quiet understanding. "On the bright side," Chelsea spoke up, a small smile playing on her lips, "I don't mind taking you to a firm event. Terrence never gave me the chance to introduce him to my coworkers."

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I guess that'll be our first official appearance together, huh?" He stroked her arm lightly, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. "I can't wait to tell the world you're all mine. That you chose me over all the other eligible married men out there."

"Stupid," Chelsea muttered, narrowing her eyes as Joe laughed at his own joke. "But true," she conceded with a smile, snuggling closer to him. "I can't wait to kiss you in public. Without hiding."

Joe's eyes grew serious as he pulled her closer. "We'll do it right," he promised. "I'll introduce you to my colleagues, my friends, my family. And we'll tell them the truth—that we're together because we love each other, no more guilt, no more anxiety."

The warmth of Joe's embrace washed over Chelsea like a gentle summer rain, soothing her raw emotions. She nodded, feeling the weight of her decision settle into her bones. As they lay together, the silence was punctuated only by their synchronized breaths and the muffled sounds of the bustling city outside. The reality of their newfound freedom both thrilling and terrifying.

whoever decided to start implementing ads on here that automatically unmute and cut off any music app you might have on in the background as you scroll by should be hunted for sport

Hamda Al Fahim 'Earthly' Fall 2024 Haute Couture Collection

Valdrin Sahiti 2024 Ready-to-Wear Collection

Favourite Designs: Zuhair Murad 'Dark Romance' Fall 2024 Ready-to-Wear Collection

Top five gowns of 2023 as voted by my followers: Tran Hung fall 2023 ready to wear in fourth place

Bows and Ribbons 🎀

Paolo Sebastian

Aden

Just to be abundantly clear,

This Account Stands With Palestine.

Ines Di Santo

friendly reminder for the new twitter refugees:

change your icon/pfp and put something coherent in your blog description or you're going to get blocked bcs people think you're a bot

this site is built around reblogs, so please actually reblog posts(especially art and fics!!)

you can set your likes and follows to private

checkmarks here are a meme and mean nothing

follower counts are private and we like it that way, so get used to not judging people by that metric

drama and discourse is boring, use your blacklist and block button liberally

DON'T CENSOR YOURSELF!! we can swear and say kill and make fun of corporations all we want, and if you tiktok-ify your tags people who have things blacklisted for whatever reason will still see them, and people who want to see that content won't be able to find it!! spell words out normally, you won't get in trouble!!

tumblr live is sketchy as hell and full of fake accounts, if you decide to use it anyway may god have mercy on your soul o7

be nice to the reddit refugees, they're our friends <3

dealing with the worst case scenario

your condom breaks

you feel a lump on your breast

your friends are ignoring you

you’re stranded on an island 

you got rejected by a crush

you get into a car accident

you got stung by a bee/wasp

you got fired from your job

you’re in an earthquake

your tattoo gets infected

your house is on fire

you’re lost in the woods

you get arrested abroad

you get robbed

your partner cheated on you

you’re on a ship that’s sinking

you fall into ice

you’re stuck in an elevator

you hit a deer with your car

you have food poisoning

your pet passed away

you fall off of a horse

you or your friend has alcohol poisoning

you have toxic shock syndrome

your house has a gas leak

had that exact one and only played Dora’s cooking club

sorry professor i did not do this asisgnemtn becuase i was too sad! NO consequences please. goodbye

A BLACK GIRL RUNS THIS BLOG BITCH

First look at Halle Bailey as ARIEL in The Little Mermaid (2023)

this is how the movie went right

original post:

POSTING THIS AGAIN!!!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE CAREFUL OUT THERE!!!

PENELOPE GARCIA + AARON HOTCHNER in 1x20 “CHARM AND HARM.”

Sanctuary [OC]