I started wanting my husbands best friend.. I just always thought of Steve as John’s buddy, almost like a brother actually. He had been around since before we got married. Game nights, birthdays, random weekends where he showed up with beer and stayed too long. He knew where the extra glasses were. He joked with John in a way that came from years, not effort. For a long time, I didn’t think about him as anything else. Then I started noticing stupid things How he always rinsed his plate before putting it in the sink. How he remembered I didn’t like onions in the salsa. How he went quiet when John got on work calls and left the two of us in the kitchen. None of it meant anything on its own. That was what made it worse. The first time it felt different was a weeknight. John was home, but stuck on a call in the bedroom. Steve had come over to return a charger and somehow ended up staying for leftovers. I was reheating food. He stood on the other side of the counter, scrolling his phone. Comfortable. Too comfortable. “You want the rest of the rice?” I asked. “If you don’t” I passed him the container. Our fingers touched for a second. Neither of us commented on it. People touched by accident all the time. I still pulled my hand back too fast. John laughed at something through the wall. Steve glanced toward the hallway, then back at me. “He’s always on calls now” he said.