It was all so perfectly laid out.
The anticipated reaction.
You never moved too soon. It was a double life, in all its effect, glory and splendor. There were slips here and there but they made simply cracks in a foundation that would never be shaken. I was here, she was there. I was the morning, she was the weekend. I never thought that I would be in this position. You hoped that she was doing the same. There had always been suspicions but never any concrete evidence. It became an ambition, a project. The half-truths and precision became more and more of an importance as time went by and this got bigger and bigger. Shit sticks to a rolling stone.
And then, suddenly, we didn't have anything else to go on.
Too much had been left behind.
I think she knows.