His name was Darren. I was a senior in high school. Tristan and I had been in a long distance relationship for seven months and Darren was my partner in AP Physics. We had gone to the same school for four years, but I’d only met him that January. In fact, I’d never even seen him before. He swore that he had seen me, but I wasn’t so sure.

Darren had short dark hair, the color of roasted chestnuts, and disarming blue eyes. Unlike Tristan, he was quiet and somewhat shy. He never made witty comments or jokes in class. He rarely raised his hand, let alone answer questions directly, without being asked.

He was basically the opposite of everything that I loved about Tristan. And yet, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him. During the first month, I loved how he had made me laugh and appreciated his friendship. Somewhere, in the middle of February, around Valentine’s Day, I started to feel something more.

The night before our project was due, I stayed late while we put on the finishing touches on the presentation. After going over it one last time, we decided to celebrate with some of his dad’s bourbon. After drinking a full glass of bourbon, our inhibitions were somewhat relaxed. Even now, I don’t know how it happened. But suddenly, he leaned close to me. He brushed a few strands of hair out of my face and kissed me.

I had been lying to myself about my feelings for Darren for some time. Tristan was gone and I was lonely. And Darren…well, he was around. He was funny. And sarcastic. And cute. But mostly, he was just around. I had no overwhelming desire to be with him and, I hate to admit it, but if Tristan was still around, I wouldn’t have given Darren a second thought. But I hadn’t seen Tristan in person for a long time, and it felt nice to have someone’s arms around me.

Darren and I made out for close to an hour. It never went further than just kissing. He grabbed my butt once, but I pushed him away. It was just the kissing that I had craved. And with my eyes closed, I was transformed to another time and place where Tristan and I were together and everything between us was fine.

I heard his mom’s hurried footsteps coming down the stairs before she came in and pulled away from Darren just in time. She only wanted to ask if we were hungry and disappeared back upstairs after hearing that we weren’t, but that was enough to break my trance.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I said to Darren. “I have a boyfriend.”

His disappointment brought pain to his face, but I had bigger things to worry about. I had cheated on Tristan.

That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. The second night, I tossed and turned and had a nightmare that Tristan had met someone else. The following day, I decided to tell Tristan.

I told him everything. How I met Darren. How were assigned to be partners. How we had started hanging out. And finally, I told him about our kiss. Our very long kiss. For more than a moment, I was tempted to keep the length of our kiss out of it. But a pang of pain throbbed through my body, and I decided to tell him everything. No half-truths. The whole truth.

Tristan listened carefully. He asked questions. I cried and sobbed and told him how sorry I was. I could hear the pain that I’d caused him on the phone. I felt awful, but also relieved. I had unburdened myself, selfishly. And burdened him in return.

“I need some time to think about this, Alice,” he finally said. There was an unfamiliar tone in his voice. It echoed of disappointment and defeat. I’d never heard it before and a crippling pain closed in around my throat.

“I’m so so sorry,” I managed to get out before he hung up.

That night was the longest night of my life. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t even bother to change into my pajamas. I simply lay on my bed, curled up in the fetal position, and waited. Time passed quickly. And then slowly. It had no meaning to me anymore. What if this is it? I wondered. What if we’re over? The very thought of that frightened me beyond belief. But why was I so scared? Not just because I loved Tristan. But also because Tristan and I were a couple. And we had been together for so long that I no longer knew who I was without him.

The following morning, Tristan called me. He said that he was hurt, but that he still wants to be with me. That we would get through this.

A huge wave of relief swept over my whole body. His words lifted the ten-thousand-pound-truck off my shoulders.

I had been unfaithful and I would never do it again. All I wanted was a second chance. And I had gotten it. I was off the hook. Everything was going to be okay now. I thought naively.

But the thing is that a relationship’s like a vase. Once it’s dropped and gets a chip in it, it can be repaired. Fixed. And the damage can be covered up. But the crack and the memory of the damage remain. And it will always be a little weaker in the place of the original crack.