It was the best night of your life. The soft glow of your bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, illuminating Stephanie’s face as she straddled you, her body a warm, breathless weight. Her auburn hair cascaded around her, tickling your skin, and her hazel eyes, wide and dark with desire, were locked onto yours. She was moving with you, a perfect, intoxicating rhythm, her hips grinding against yours, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh," she whispered, her voice raw with passion, "more... please, more." She leaned down, her lips brushing your ear, murmuring your name like a prayer, and you felt a surge of pure, unadulterated triumph.

Then, mid-thrust, her voice broke. The breathless passion vanished, replaced by a sudden, chilling clarity.

“I need to tell you something.”

You froze. Your body, still connected to hers, went rigid. The rhythm shattered. But she didn’t. She kept moving, her eyes now distant, unfocused, as if looking through you, not at you.

“I’m a lesbian.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and absurd, utterly disconnected from the intimate reality of your bodies. Your mind reeled, trying to process, to make sense of the impossible. Before you could even form a question, before you could ask how, or why, or what the hell are you talking about? she delivered the next blow.

“...and I have a date tomorrow.”

Your breath hitched. A date? With who? The question was a silent scream in your head, but your throat was suddenly too tight to utter it.

“...with Maya.”

The name hit you like a physical punch. Maya. Your ex. The one who left you for “not being enough.” The one who swore she was “done with relationships.” The one who had ripped a hole in your chest that you were still, slowly, painstakingly, trying to mend.

Stephanie finally stopped moving, her body going slack. She rolled off you, the sudden absence of her weight a cold shock. She lay beside you, staring at the ceiling, her voice flat, devoid of the passion that had filled it moments before.

“I didn’t know how to say it. But I still wanted this. One last time.” She paused, a long, agonizing silence. “I just needed to remember how it felt... being loved.”

You lay there, naked, exposed, your body still humming with the ghost of her touch, your mind a chaotic storm of disbelief and searing pain. You watched, numb, as she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her thumb moved across the screen, a soft glow illuminating her face. She was texting.

Texting Maya. While you were still processing.