He called me again, after all of these years. I was surprised to hear his voice, even more surprised that he'd kept my number. When he asked where we could meet, I was ecstatic, and I left work early, just so I would be on time.

He still managed to beat me there, just like he always did. It felt like a dream; I felt that it had to be.

"I thought I would never see you again."

"I missed you."

We should have said those things, but we didn't. All I know is that he pulled me close, and I was happier than I had been in a long time. It was too good to be true, or just too good to last. At that moment, it didn't matter.

We met often after that, almost every night. The days seemed to fly by at light-speed, and when I was finally able to see him, I was always wishing that time would just stop. It was heaven, and nothing else mattered; only him.

One night in particular will stay with me forever. He told me his secret. It was why we could never meet in public, why I could never let anyone know I met with him, why no one else could see his face. Those three words changed my life forever, and I'll never forget them, ever.

I felt differently about him after that. I became more obsessed, and my outward demeanor changed, too. People could see the difference, and some of them inquired to my happiness. But it was a secret, and I held him too close to my heart to risk his anger.

I was helpful to him. That gave my life purpose, and I was determined to give better than my best, if only to make him happy. Our meetings suddenly stopped being so frequent, and I knew something was wrong, but I never said a word, content to work quietly for his goal.

I should have known better. I had known better, and I still do. Hope is all I have left. To hope that he'll change his mind, that the empty dial tone echoing from the phone in my hands is just part of the dream.

But I know it's not. I'm just the first, one out of many, and all of them know his secret, too. Soon, their hands will be shaking just like mine, as I empty the tank of gasoline onto the floor, as I light the match.

Three can keep a secret, but only if two of them are dead, or so the saying goes. Well, I have a secret, too. Its three words long, just like his. My last hope is that he'll hear it, somehow, and understand. I want him to forgive me, because my best just wasn't enough, and I could never be as perfect as he needs. I hope she makes him happy, because if she's not…

One day, she'll have the same secret as I do. Her hands will shake, and she'll cry just like me, as she whispers her secret to the world.

"I love you."

But it was my secret first, and it won't be the only secret I'll take with me. I love him, and he won't have to worry, because his secret is safe with me.

I drop the match, and smile, just a little, as both secrets go up in flames.