Rob left for work just after eight, dropping a kiss on the top of my head as he grabbed his keys. I stood in the doorway, waving him off, feeling the new weight of Maggie's wedding ring on my finger. Alvin was in his playpen, gurgling happily, oblivious to the chaos in my mind.
Once the car disappeared down the street, I exhaled, my anxiety and excitement flooding over me again. I was alone. Really, completely alone. I almost didn't know where to start.
I paced the house. The living room was neat, elegant, a little bohemian, with a framed wedding photo on the mantel. I picked it up, examining the smiling faces of Maggie and Rob. What was it like being married to him? What was it like being married to me?
My hands fell on my chest again as I set the photo down. Maybe it was okay to touch, to learn, to know. To really know her, the way I never thought I would. To know me now.
I felt dizzy with it, with the freedom, the thrill of standing here, alone. Alone to explore, to feel, to indulge. To look at her as long as I’d like without getting in trouble for it.
I raced to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I stood in front of the mirror, heart pounding with anticipation and disbelief. Was I really doing this? Was I really going to—
Yes. I had to know.
I peeled off my clothes, one piece at a time, slowly, savoring the reveal. I watched with fascination, with growing excitement, as more of Maggie's skin came into view. She was perfect.
I wanted to cry with the thrill of it, with the impossibility of it. There was no shame in the way I looked at her now, no guilty glances when she was turned away. She was the body of my dreams, the body I had desired without ever admitting it.
“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck,” I could barely breathe as I discarded the top and panties.
I gasped as I let the last of the clothes fall away, as I stripped off every bit of fabric I'd been hiding behind. “Oh fuck." The words choked out of me, raw with disbelief and thrill. The panties landed in a careless pile on the floor, the tank top beside them in a heap of cotton, and suddenly there was nothing left between me and the mirror.
I stood naked, unguarded, exposed. I stood in front of the mirror, in front of myself, in front of her. I stood in front of Maggie.
"What have I done?" I whispered to the empty room, unable to tear my eyes away from the reflection, the impossibility, the reality of it. "What have I wished for?" My voice was a breathless confession of desire and horror, a mix of joy and shame.
What had I traded for this?
"I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to," I croaked as I touched her, touched what I had become.
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