She didn’t reply. Instead, she opened the notebook and began to write. Confession #14: I don’t actually love him. I love the version of myself that he gets to see. The one without groceries to buy or rent to pay. The one who laughs at his jokes and doesn’t ask where he was last night. But that woman isn’t real. And neither is his promise to leave her. She closed the notebook and reached for her wine. Tomorrow, she’d delete his number. Tomorrow, she’d pack up the silk robe he liked and donate it. Tomorrow, she’d stop being the side piece.
Here’s a short story inspired by the title and mood you suggested—blending confession, desire, and the tension of a hidden life. Confessions of a Side Piece -Vixen- Gina Valentina - Confessions Of A Side ...
“You’re trouble,” he’d said, exhaling smoke like a confession. She didn’t reply
That was eighteen months ago.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she’d replied. I love the version of myself that he gets to see