Wooden door flings open, revealing the tear-eyed wife. And I...I was the mistress upon her silk-sheet bed. Naked, exposed, I scramble to cover-up the obvious. Friend, now fiend stared with cold, bloodshot eyes, pressing the question: Why? I shake my head, as the man I love marred our bitter-sweet relationship with denial, trading passionate pink romance for a mud-covered wedding. After gathering red and ebon leather and lace, worn for pleasure the night before, I scamper out of the doom relationship, closing the thick wooden door. Rain patters upon cobblestone, as I blubber tears of regret. All my fault...it was inevitable.