Two Women, One Story
"I met Russell D'Amano in a spa," she said softly, her voice almost carried away by the breeze.
"I worked there as a masseuse. The day my boss introduced him as my client, I remember thinking—'Damn, how can a man look that ravishing?'"
I blinked, surprised by her candor.
"The memory of how he looked at me that day... it's still so fresh. That was the day everything changed for me."
She smiled wistfully, but her eyes were clouded, as if reliving the moment.
"I was captivated, Angel. By his gray eyes, the strength in his silence, his commanding aura. He didn't wear a ring, so I thought—maybe, just maybe, he was single. Never crossed my mind that a man like that could already belong to someone."
I didn't speak. I just listened, caught somewhere between shock and fascination.
"I tried to stay professional while massaging him, but... it was my first time touching a man like that. Hell, it was my first time touching any man. My palms were sweating. My heart was racing. And still, I couldn't stop myself from staring at his back, at the hard muscles under my fingers. I kept fighting the lust—naivety or not, I knew I was getting in deep."
She sighed and dipped her legs into the water, eyes distant.
"A week later, I ran into him again. I was walking out of a grocery store, and he was coming out of a hospital. He looked... off. Pale. Tired. I didn't even know the man, but I worried."
She paused. Her voice lowered like she was confessing to herself more than to me.
"I went back to that hospital that evening, curious. Maybe obsessed. I asked around, and someone whispered that he came to see a therapist. I didn't know what it was exactly, but I could feel he was broken. And for some twisted reason, I wanted to fix him."
Something about the way she said that echoed inside me. I'd felt that same pull toward Raul.
"He started coming back to the spa, always asking for me. I knew I should've turned him away, but how could I when his entire body melted under my hands? He never spoke much, but his silence was louder than most men's words."
Her smile twisted as if reliving a bitter sweetness.
"I had a little sister, obsessed with celebrity gossip. One day, she showed me a video of Russell at some gala... with his wife."
My chest tightened, already sensing where this was going.
"She was radiant. He was... not. His smile didn't reach his eyes. That should've made me walk away, but it didn't. I wanted him more."
I swallowed hard—it felt like I was listening to my own story, just told in a different voice.
"I told myself he wasn't happy. That maybe I could be the happiness he needed. And every time he came back to me, I believed it more."
She turned her face to me, eyes twinkling with something that felt like guilt wrapped in honesty.
"I'm sorry if this is weird or cringy. Just... forget I'm your future mother-in-law and listen like I'm your best friend."
I gave her a hesitant smile. "W-what is it?"
Her eyes glinted with mischief, but there was a weight behind them, a secret ready to spill.
"Well, every normal woman's first sexual step is a kiss. Mine..." She paused, and took a deep breath before dropping the bomb.
"Mine was a blowjob."
My mouth dropped open. "Wait, what?"
"I'm not joking," she chuckled softly.
"That day, the tension between us was unbearable. I was massaging him, and my eyes wandered... to his groin. I didn't even think. My hormones took over. I ignored the fact that he was married. I ignored the values my parents drilled into me."
There was a bitter edge in her tone now. One that told me this story wasn't all romance.
"My dad was an Israelite. Strict. And my mom was Hispanic—fiery and proud. They didn't want me working, especially not in a spa. My body was too curvy, too tempting, they said. I was supposed to be kept pure, saved for a husband they would choose."
She scoffed, looking away.
"My sister played their game, but I was different. I wanted what I wanted, no matter the cost."
She looked back at me with a trace of sadness in her expression. "Russell and I kept seeing each other in secret. A full year. And then... I got pregnant."
My breath caught. "With the twin?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. Angel."
I wanted to probe, to ask more—but I stayed quiet and let the story unravel on its own, piece by piece.
"Finally, he told me about his wife, Philomena. They were happy once, in the early days of their marriage. But she changed—grew distant, cold. He tried to fix it, went to therapy to save their marriage, but nothing worked. He couldn't keep holding on to someone who didn't love him anymore."
The tears in her eyes reflected the moonlight.
"He was still trying to be a good man when he met me because still loved her. But love doesn't always last where it begins."
She sighed deeply, her voice trembling.
"I knew it was wrong. I knew I was the villain in someone else's story... but I also knew I loved him."
She paused, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"And then the world found out. You can imagine what happened next."
I could. And yet, I couldn't help but see myself in her.