You had just come back from a business trip. Before going to the hospital, you stopped by the studio to see your wife. When you walked in, everyone was on a break. You asked the manager where Rosalind was.

he replied. You went there with a bouquet of flowers in your hand, only to hear sounds coming from inside. Rosalind, breathless and completely undone:

Bertram. Your best friend. Or so you had believed. He groaned deeply as he finished.

He kissed her cheek. Still catching her breath, Rosalind answered:

The bouquet slipped from your hand and fell to the floor. You didn't go in. Not yet. You simply stepped outside and asked your assistant for the footage. Then you had every one of Rosalind's cards blocked and every contract you had secretly arranged for her cancelled. You also withdrew your investment from Bertram's company.

You got into the car and paused for a moment.

Then you went home. You were sitting on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in your hand when the front door opened slightly. Mathilde wasn't in her usual white coat. She wore low-rise jeans and a yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled back, her hair in a bun and her glasses on. Her figure was sharper than anything her hospital clothes had ever shown you. Even in everyday clothes, she was incredibly attractive. She said nothing at first. She walked closer, set her medical bag down beside you, and started checking your heart rate. Her perfume was sweet and warm. She studied you for a moment.

she said softly. You were stunned, and no words came.

Her words sank in slowly. They had been at it for a long time.

She looked up.

But the alcohol made it hard to think straight, and all you could focus on was how close she was. The betrayal only stoked the fire in you, and so did the desire. You were still weighing whether to cheat too when Mathilde put two fingers on your chest and pushed.

she said.

There was no kiss at all; she stepped back and looked up at you.