You swung your legs off of the bed, leaning down to grab your shirt and pull it over your head to keep some form of modesty, not that it mattered too much seen as you had just slept together. You had hoped that being with him would numb all the pain that you felt but everything came swimming back along with guilt.
For the last five years you had been the wife of a man whom didn't love you, a man who only wanted you to be someone on his arm, and someone he could push around every day of your life. Up until recently, you had let it happen, not knowing an escape but that was until you met Jake Peralta. He had been the cop in control of your case when your neighbour put in a domestic complaint after hearing your husbands shouting. You spouted some bullshit about nothing having gone on, that your bruises were from your own stupidity, and certainly not wanting to put in a formal charge against him. A quick friendship blossomed and soon the connection with your husband was lost, you and your new detective friend taking a greater interest in each other.
The relationship became sexual, little emotion there but greatly enjoying the company of the other. He knew the marriage was unhappy and that your husband had found company in many other women and you cared little for the affair as there wasn't an emotional connection and your husband only wanted someone to control not a wife. It was a fair agreement at first, that was before you started to full in love with Jake and that made everything harder.
Jake brushed a hand against your lower back, pushing up your shirt to see your skin.
"Has he hit you?" He asked. "You said he only hit you on that one occasion."
"We shouldn't do this," you stated, not wanting to discuss the matter and rather ending the only remotely healthy relationship that you had rather than have to face the hellish thing that was going on.
You stood up to find your pants and trousers, pulling them on as you found them.
"Y/N," he huffed, jumping up to pull on his underwear too. "How many times has it happened?"
You gritted your teeth not wanting to talk about it, but he wasn't dropping it as you hoped.
"We should have never done this. I have a husband, I shouldn't be doing this," you frowned.
"Okay, it wasn't right, but it certainly isn't the worst thing to happen to or by you," he argued. "Tell me the truth Y/N, I know we were just messing around but it's hard to not say that I care about you."
You had never heard of anyone actually caring for you and it became too much, tears winning the battle and fulling down your cheeks.
"If he knew what we were doing he'd kill me. He's slept with more women than I actually know about and when you were called wasn't the only time. It's never been a happy marriage but if I keep out of the house and he keeps fucking whomever he wants, it doesn't happen as much," you tried to justify but knew you weren't the one in the wrong, at least not as far in the wrong as your husband was.
"It's going to be okay," he whispered hesitantly going to hug you, but knew it was welcomed when you grasped hold of him wishing he would never let go. "Everything is going to be okay."
~*~
Written by Charlotte.
Requested by