Three days later, I was sitting at my desk, the office mostly dark around me, no one else was still working at seven.

I hadn’t spoken to Carson since he’d left Saturday morning, and I had been avoiding Quinn as much as I possibly could, given that we shared a one-bedroom apartment. I didn’t know how to start the conversation we had to have. How do you tell your husband you’ve been cheating on him? With his best friend, nonetheless?

My phone vibrated on my desk, and Dani’s face filled the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, but she apparently wasn’t calling to chit-chat.

“Quinn just called me, asking all sorts of questions about you working late and being all distracted lately,” she said without a hello. “I swear to God, if you are with Carson right now, I’m going to come over and kill you both.”

“I’m not, I really am at work, I swear.”

“Why? It’s after seven, three days before Christmas. What could you possibly be doing? Never mind, I don’t really give a shit, but I’m not going to cover your fucking tracks for you.”

“Dani...” I didn’t really know what I was going to say, but it didn’t matter, because she cut me off and kept going.

“Either you tell Quinn, or fucking end it, because I’m not lying for you again.”

“I already ended it, three days ago.”

“You ended it? Or you’re just waiting for Quinn to go out of town again?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I said. “Don’t sit over there and act like you’re better than everyone else, like you’ve never fucked up before.” I was tired of her bullshit; I didn’t do anything to her. Every conversation we’d had had since she’d found out about the affair went the same way. She’d make some snide comment about how she didn’t agree with what I was doing, I’d get mad, she’d get mad, and then I’d apologize to keep the peace.

“Fuck you, Chloe. I just lied to your husband for you. Told him I had no idea what was going on, that you must just be really stressed at work when really I wanted to tell him you are a lying, cheating asshole. And now you’re going to yell at me?”

“It’s over, okay? It’s done. I’m sorry Quinn called you … I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” The words were supposed to sound sincere, but instead they sounded bitter and resentful.

“Either figure out a way to tell Quinn, or stop being shady, because I won’t lie for you again, and it won’t be pretty if he finds out from me.” She hung up before I could respond. I resisted the urge to throw my phone across the office and scream.

Instead, I packed up my things, pulled on my coat, and walked to my car.

I tried to rehearse what I was going to say on the drive home, but every time I tried to say the words, I choked up and started to cry. There was no way I was ever going to get through this conversation. What was the point anyway?

I still loved Quinn. I knew no one would believe me if I told them. Like Carson had said: who had an affair if they were perfectly happy? But it didn’t matter what anyone else said, I did love Quinn. I didn’t want to break his heart. It was over with Carson. I decided I wasn't going to tell Quinn.

I checked my make-up in the stainless-steel wall of the elevator and walked to my apartment, ready to pretend like nothing was wrong.

Quinn, unfortunately, had other plans.

“Where have you been?” he said before I even got in the doorway. He stood from the couch, turned off the TV, and walked over to me.

“I’m sorry, I was at work,” I said.

“Until eight? Christmas is in three days … you can’t possibly have any big projects due this week,” he said. I was suddenly annoyed at him and his questions.

“Yes, work is busy,” I said, my tone condescending. “I’m still doing the job of two people and sometimes that means I have to work late and you’ll just have to deal.”

“You told me you’d be home two hours ago, I was worried. Is that okay? Or am I not allowed to be worried?”

“I just don’t want to come home and get interrogated.” The more I tried to make it seem like he was the one in the wrong here, the more Quinn pushed back on me.

“What is your problem lately? You’re all moody and distracted, you literally run away any time there is even the slightest bit of conflict, you work late all the time, and that’s not like you. What is going on?”

I stood there, silent, trying to find the right words. Quinn waved a hand out in front of him as if to say, Well, I’m waiting. A million lies bubbled to the surface, but the words that came out were the truth.

“I was having an affair,” I whispered, but the words echoed through the quiet apartment like I had shouted them.

“What?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” I pleaded softly.

“With who?”

“It doesn't matter. It's over now. It's done.”

“Chloe,” Quinn said, anger building in his voice. “Who?”

A tear rolled out of the corner of my eye and down my cheek.

“Please, it doesn't matter, it was nothing,” I begged. Everything would be worse if he knew.

“Fucking tell me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Carson,” I whispered again.

Quinn stumbled backward, like I had punched him in the stomach, and grabbed on to the couch for support. His head dropped, and he took a few deep breaths. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were full of confusion and pain.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” he said. I shook my head, unable to speak.

“You are. You are lying … Carson would never do that to me.”

“Quinn, it’s the truth,” I choked out. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.

“How long?” he asked, not looking at me.

“Quinn, please, none of that matters. It’s over now. I ended it.”

“It all matters, Chloe. Don’t make me drag the information out of you,” Quinn said in a voice I’d never heard before. Low and controlled but full of fury. “How long have you been fucking Carson?” He said the words like they were poison.

“Three and a half months.”

“Jesus Christ.” He ran his hands over his face. “I never thought in a million years this was what was wrong with you. I called Dani because I was worried about you, worried that you were overworking yourself, or something was wrong and you wouldn’t tell me. But this? I never would’ve guessed this.”

He turned his back on me and leaned on the couch. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. Nothing I could say would make this moment any better, so I just stood there in silence.

“Why?” Quinn’s voice cracked on the single word.

“I don’t know!” I choked back a sob.

“Was our marriage bad? Did I miss something? Are you not happy?” Every word that came out of his mouth sounded pained.

“No, Quinn, nothing was wrong.” Tears rolled down my cheeks as I spoke. “Everything was amazing, you are amazing. I was a fool … I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Quinn shook his head and walked to the bedroom. I called after him as I followed him down the hallway.

“Quinn, it’s over. It’s done,” I repeated.

“You think that matters? A three-month affair isn’t a mistake, Chloe. It’s a fucking betrayal … it’s unforgivable.”

I watched as he grabbed a backpack and started stuffing things inside it.

“Quinn, please, don’t go. I love you.” He spun around, his half-packed backpack in his hand, and looked at me.

“Don’t talk to me about love,” he said. “I’ve always loved you, Chloe, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough for you. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think you would tell me, and I’d just forgive you and everything would still be perfect? Or were you just going to hide it for the rest of our lives? Don’t even answer, I don’t even care.” He grabbed a few more things from the bedroom, shoving them into the backpack, and then stomped out into the living room, where he grabbed his keys and wallet and laptop and shoved them inside, too. “I can’t fucking believe this. I would’ve done anything for you, Chloe. I loved you with everything I had, and this is how you repay me? I hope you fucking burn in hell.”

Then he yanked open the door and was gone. My husband was gone—the man I had loved for the last eight years, the man I had thought I was going to grow old with was gone. And I didn’t know if he was ever coming back.