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They had a quiet romantic dinner, with candles and roses on the table. His favourite food, his favourite wine. His favourite woman? Her smile faltered. She couldn’t tell.

After dinner they curled up together on the sofa, watching a DVD. He ran his hand through her hair, stroked her arm. They soon forgot about the film.

He practically carried her up to the bedroom, discarding clothes along the way, and for a while all her fears and worries were lost, drowned in a wave of passion.

Later, limbs entwined in tangled and sweaty bedlinen, she lay with her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Her fingers idly walked across his body. She took a breath. She was ready to speak but she couldn’t find the words. Instead she sighed and laid her arm across his chest.

How did it come to this, she wondered. When did I become one of those foolish women who wants a man to leave his wife?

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note – Inspired by one of this week’s Post Secret cards.)

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