The night had been warm, laughter spilling through the cracks of their modest apartment as Harold and Diana sat on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles and the remnants of a lighthearted evening. They were playing their usual drinking game—truth or drink. It had been a way to unwind, a way to connect. But that night, the air shifted, and the game took a darker turn.

Diana’s voice wavered, her glass trembling in her hand. “I cheated on you a night before our wedding,” she whispered.

Harold froze. The words hit him like a sledgehammer. His body tensed, goosebumps prickling his skin as he stared at her, searching her face for some sign that it was a joke. “What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as the alcohol loosened her tongue. “Your stepdad,” she muttered before collapsing into unconsciousness, leaving Harold stunned.

“Diana, wake up!” He shook her gently at first, then harder. “Wake up and talk to me! Diana!”

But she didn’t stir. He spent the rest of the night wide awake, sitting on the edge of their bed, staring at her sleeping form. Questions swirled in his mind, each one more unbearable than the last. Why had he pushed her to play that stupid game? Why had it gone so far?

The next morning, the tension was palpable. Diana woke up groaning, her head pounding from the hangover. Despite her discomfort, she insisted on getting ready for church. Harold, on the other hand, couldn’t focus on anything but her confession.

“Did you sleep with my stepdad?” he asked abruptly, his voice low but sharp.

She stopped mid-motion, her hairbrush suspended in the air. “What?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he said. “Answer me. Did you sleep with him?”

“That’s ridiculous!” she scoffed, turning back to the mirror. “Where did you even get that idea?”

“From you!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You said it last night!”

She turned to face him, her expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “I said that? Oh, come on, Harold. I must’ve been drunk. Don’t take it seriously.”

“How can you expect me not to?” he shouted. “This isn’t some random nonsense. This is serious, Diana!”

“Well, if it’s so serious,” she said coldly, “then let me remind you—it was a game. A game where you said you’d listen and not judge.”

“When I said that, I didn’t think you’d confess to something like this!” he fired back.

“Maybe it wasn’t even true,” she said, her voice icy. “Maybe I said it just to see how you’d react. Or maybe I don’t remember saying it at all. Either way, I expect you to stick to your word and listen—not judge.”

But Harold couldn’t let it go. Suspicion gnawed at him, driving him to confront his stepfather. The confrontation exploded into chaos. His mother was outraged, his stepfather denied everything, and Harold found himself alienated from his family. He eventually apologized to restore peace, but the unease in his heart didn’t fade.

Six months later, they played the game again. This time, Harold wasn’t drunk. He laughed and poured her drinks, waiting for the right moment to press her again.

“We listen,” he reminded her, smiling as he topped off her glass. “We don’t judge.”

Diana giggled, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Okay, okay,” she slurred. “You remember when I really wanted that job at the multinational company? The one that pays double what you make?”

Harold nodded, his heart pounding.

“Well,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, “your dad said he could recommend me. But he… he wanted something in return. So I gave it to him. And now I have the job.”

Harold’s world shattered. He kept his composure as she rambled, knowing she’d deny everything come morning. Quietly, he took her phone, saved his number under her stepdad’s name, and blocked his stepdad’s actual number. Then he waited.

The next day, he texted her. “Hi, it’s been a while. How’s that husband of yours?”

“That’s your son,” she replied, followed by a laughing emoji.

“Lol. Does he still suspect anything?”

“No, he’s stopped mentioning it for a while now. But we should stay away from each other. It’s still not safe.”

“But I miss you.”

“I miss you too. But it’s dangerous.”

“Okay, fine. Send me something to hold me over while we take this break. You know what I mean.”

Diana sent laughing emojis and then a string of illicit photos and videos. Harold stared at the screen, his heart breaking with every image.

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That weekend, he hosted a family party. His mother, stepfather, and Diana were all present. The atmosphere was jovial until Harold dimmed the lights and projected the messages and photos onto the wall.

The room fell silent. His mother gasped, his stepfather’s face turned ashen, and Diana’s eyes filled with panic.

“I’m sorry, Diana,” Harold said, his voice calm but resolute. “I listened, and I judged. I can’t be with a woman like you. You’ll get your divorce papers soon.”

He turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the stunned silence. As he stepped into the night, a wave of sadness washed over him. But beneath it all, he felt a profound sense of relief. It was over. It was finally over.