The steam from the coffee mug slowly danced its way toward the ceiling until it eventually disappeared into thin air. I could smell the inviting aroma of the local brew. I took a few sips from the mug. My wife never made coffee this good.

“It’s Saturday. Aren’t the kids home?” Amanda placed a bowl of adobo on the table, then returned to the kitchen for the plates. She had not yet touched the coffee she had prepared for herself.

“My wife took them to the mall. I told her I was going on a business trip.”

“She believed you?” she asked, opening the cabinet full of plates and bowls.

“I think so,” I replied, lifting the mug for another sip as she returned and set the plates down.

The meal was sumptuous, as always. Her cooking had never failed me since the first time she prepared a meal for me exactly a year ago – the first time she let me into her home, the first time I began to feel reborn. With her, everything felt perfect. She made me feel perfect. Slowly, I glanced at the suit I had laid on the sofa, hoping the necklace hadn’t fallen.

“Let’s end this,” she said softly, letting out a sigh as she stared at her empty plate, her soft curls covering most of her face.

I tried to recall what had happened earlier in the day, or the last time we were together. Nothing peculiar came to mind.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” She covered her face with her hands, her words breaking through sobs. “We both know this won’t last. Let’s just end it.”

She had said those exact words a month ago – and the month before that, and the month before that. But every time we met, she would always pull me back into her arms. Always.

We always agreed never to meet again, yet I’d find myself thinking of her over the next few days and eventually showing up at her house after work. Part of me wanted to curse myself; the other half wanted to scream to the world that I didn’t give a damn.

I moved my chair closer to hers and held her face gently, urging her to look at me.

“How can you be sure that this time, it will really be the last?”

She hesitated, then spoke.

“Your daughter met me yesterday.”