Mustafa smelled it the second he entered the hotel room. The stench of sex hanging heavy in the air. She had been with someone else again. And as always he pretended not to smell it as he looked at her. She looked good in that little red set of mini skirt and top. Red looked good with her black pixie cut and her dark brown eyes.
"You're going out?" He asked.
"Having drinks with the girls," she answered.
He knew she didn't lie. She wouldn't cheat on him twice on the same day. She wasn't a whore. And if she was a whore for cheating, so was he. They both did it. They both hurt each other again and again, kept quiet, and never talked about it.
He could always ask who it was. There was a small list of names to pick from, and he knew them all. The only question was who she had chosen today. Who had been the lucky one to fuck his woman in their shared hotel room? He didn't ask though. Not anymore. And neither did she. He was already going through the list of women in his head, wondering who he should pick tonight as payback, and undoubtedly she knew he would do it.
"Lauren?" He asked.
"Yeah, baby?" She looked at him.
His mind tried to tell him all the things he should say. He should make her stay, force her to come clean, tell her how bad he was hurting inside. Instead he said the only words that were honest and true.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," she said.
He wanted to smile, but he couldn't. There was a time their love had been pure and innocent. Now it was raw and painful. Their love hurt, but he wouldn't want to live without it. This was the type of love poets and songwriters wrote about. Hurting love, bleeding love, painful love. Love he couldn't live without.
"Sometimes I don't want to," he confessed lowly.
There, he had said it. Kind of. She had to understand this meant he was hurting. Her eyes looked sad when she answered him.
"Sometimes I wish that you didn't," she said.
They couldn't even fight. Even like this, when they were fighting without actually fighting, they were still on the same page. She managed to put on a little, fake smile as she walked over to him and gave him a little kiss.
"Don't wait up," she said.
With those words she disappeared on her black heels and closed the door. He sighed as he sat down on the bed. He bowed down to pull out an item from his suitcase. A black ring box. He opened it and looked at the silver ring inside.
One day he would give it to her. One day he would ask her, and she would be his for good. No more fucking around for any of them. One day they would find their way back to each other. Their love would become pure again, and they would only have eyes for each other.
One day... but not today.
He closed the ring box and buried it under his clothes again. He had been holding on to it for a little over seven weeks now. It could wait. Even if it took years, it could wait. He took out his phone and scrolled through the list of names until he found a female name he would like to spend an hour or two with. In her room though. Their room already had someone else's stench hanging in the air. There was no need to add more fuel to the fire.