The Broken Rule
a oneshot.


The moment she plunged her key into the door lock, she just knew. Knew that something was different – and that "something" was going to ultimately change her. But still, she walked on – through the doorway and up the stairs.

With every step, she felt more and more surreal – because with every step, she could hear the moans and whimpers more and more clearly.

And then a loud scream – "Yes yes yes!" – finally made her stop in her tracks.

She stood still with both feet on one of the steps of the stairs, her right hand clenching the banister so tightly her knuckles were white. Her head bowed and her shoulder hunched as she felt the tears trail hotly down her cheek. And this time, the triumphant shout she heard was a familiar one.

Part of her wanted so badly to just turn on her heels and get away, to be anywhere but there. But the other part of her – the bigger, prouder part – willed her to move forward, to see firsthand what she knew she would see.

She pushed the slightly ajar door leading to their bedroom lightly open.

She thought that she had fully steeled herself to see him with another girl. But apparently, she wasn't prepared enough. Bile rose to her throat when she saw him, his body thrusting and rutting against the slim feminine writhing figure beneath him.

She didn't know where to look, or if she should look anywhere at all, so she just focused on his face. The forehead she loved to brush butterfly kisses on, the delicate nose that was so at odds with the rest of him, his lips that she loved to nibble lightly on while he was asleep.

She looked at him now, his eyes shut tightly and his face screwed up in ecstasy and lust. She just continued staring, until those grey eyes focused on her. She waited for them to widen in shock and guilt, or for him to stop pounding and ramming. But he didn't so much as falter.

Those eyes, those cold, grey eyes, stayed on her. They stayed trained on her as the nameless girl beneath him whimpered breathlessly – Yes, like that. Don't stop. They remained on her as he fucked another woman in their bed.

And then she knew. She knew that he knew she would see this – see him and another woman having sex in their house, in their bedroom, in their bed.

No, he wanted her to see this.

The reason why was as clear as the sky after a rainstorm to her. After all she should have known this would happen. Should have realized what he would do the moment she broke the rule of their "relationship" the night before.

In their post-coital bliss, feeling thoroughly blissful, she'd snuggled and cuddled close to him and had whispered, I love you.