When I walked into my room, the stench smacked me in the face. Maybe I should let Jessica clean it after all? I liked the way she hated coming into the room, the nastiness of it keeping her away. That's what I wanted – her to stay away. If she stayed away, then I couldn't be mean to her. It was my plan; I stayed away from her and the children. That way there would be no more fights.

The fights came more often nowadays. At first, I relished in the swoop of energy and relief it gave me. But that faded fast. Something settled in the darkness when I fought with her, dulling the blankness, creating a gray, fine mist that was suffocating. Was it guilt?

Suddenly, I stopped short in the room. Jessica was sitting at the desk, gazing at my laptop. Rage flew through me as I watched her scroll down with the mouse.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I roared out.

Her face popped up. Instead of looking guilty for going through my stuff, like I expected, I saw tears and trembling lips.

"I came in to pick up the dirty clothes, and you left your computer on...."

"So you thought it was okay to browse through my computer? Do I go through your stuff?" I demanded, making up the space between us and grabbing the laptop off the desk. It was open to Facebook messenger. Shame swept through me. She was reading the messages... between me and a woman named Victoria.

"How could you say those things to another woman?" Jessica asked quietly, wiping the tears from her face.

"I was just playing around," I snapped, shutting the laptop's lid.

"For weeks you've been playing around?" she asked, still sitting in my chair, looking up at me with red eyes.

"It's none of your fucking business," I threw back, forcing myself to not drag her out of the room. She'd ruined another activity. Now every time I tried to talk to another woman, her ugly, puffy tearstained face would pop into my head. More fury raged through me. I didn't have to answer to her. She wasn't my mom. I was a grown fucking man.

"It's my fucking business when MY HUSBAND decides to cheat on me. Talking to another woman like that is cheating," she snapped, her cheeks bloomed with red.

"How the fuck is it cheating? I've never met the woman," I retorted. Cheating, in my opinion, was when someone made physical contact. All I did was talk a little dirty to a chick.

"Sending dick pictures and jacking off while Facebook 'sexting' with another woman is cheating, Justin," she yelled, her voice squeaking at the end.

"What the fuck ever. I'm allowed to have a little fun once in a while... It's not cheating," I yelled back. It's not cheating. She's jealous because I won't talk to her like that. "Do you want me to talk to you like that? Tell you how I'd bend you over and shove my dick up your loose pussy?"

Her cheeks paled.

"No, Justin, I would expect my husband to treat me with the respect I deserve, as his wife. Talking dirty and showing anyone else but me your dick, and sending videos of you masturbating, is cheating and disrespectful towards me," she quietly said and stood up.

She pushed the chair away and walked towards the door, pausing before she left to look back.

"You win, Justin. Do as you please. I can't do it anymore. I gave up everything to help you through this. I sat by your side not knowing what the result would be, but I knew we would get through whatever it was. I wiped your shit covered ass when you could barely stand on your own. I quit the one thing I loved because I couldn't keep appointments alongside taking care of you and doing everything else to attempt to keep us a family. I put up with infant behavior – insults from the man that once stood in front a crowd of two hundred people and beseeched me to marry him. You win – isn't that what you wanted? A win. It's all a game to you anyway. I tried, and I give up. I give up on you, I give up on us."

I said nothing in response as she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her, leaving a faint trace of her fruity perfume. I remembered then that she preferred the fruity, earthy smells, not floral. The memory brought a small smile to my lips. That's why I always wanted to take a bite out of her; she smelled like a sweet fruit.

Shame hung in the air. What had I done? I had tried to stop before it had gotten that far – with Victoria. When it had started, something inside of me told me it was wrong, nagging at my conscience with each word I typed. But, somehow, I had pushed away those feelings, replacing them with insistence that it wasn't wrong – they were just words.

Then the pictures started, and once again the sensation of doing something wrong nagged at my core. But I gradually bit away the doubts and told myself that it was okay. So, I couldn't stop. I tried. I really did try. But I couldn't.

Why should I stop? I asked myself unexpectedly. She doesn't give me anything in exchange – the times I have come onto her, I've had to force the sex.

It was her fault I had to go to the Internet for some action. I imagined myself in between the legs of one of my other "sexting" friends – Amy. Amy had great legs... or Chloe – she had a firm round ass. The thought of fucking another woman was bittersweet, but again my conscience implored for me to be reasonable, to remember my vows as a husband.

Yes, it was better to continue with the videos and pictures. After all, Jessica had just given me permission... basically.