The Unspoken Sins

What makes you attracted to a men? 

[Backsound] Billy Paul - Mr & Mrs. Jones

Sometimes it's hard to explain, but, not always about the appearance. But today—just with one glance, just one glance, Her thoughts danced wildly filling the meeting room's air. 

"Hi Everyone, let me introduce to our new X Brand Manager" 

"Hi! My name is Paul~" 

Paul wasn’t handsome, nor did he have a great body. He had the kind of build people call a dad body—broad, a little soft around the edges, with a short beard, tanned skin, and dimples. Not tall either. For most women, he’d be just an average guy, but not for Samantha.

Then she noticed the wedding ring. Married. Of course—most men in their thirties are. She cursed silently. It’s not that she had any right to care… but still, wedding rings come off, don’t they?

She shook her head, trying to chase away that reckless thought. Who wants to be the other woman? she scolded herself. Am I crazy? Probably.

Paul started speaking about the marketing strategies for the brand he managed. Sammy’s eyes couldn’t leave him. His voice had a calm authority, low and warm, vibrating through the room in a way that made her pulse react before her mind could. There was something about him—his scent maybe, or the quiet confidence he carried—that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Every gesture, every pause, every smile seemed to pull her in a little closer, even when she tried to look away.

The more she tried to focus, the more her thoughts betrayed her. Her pulse quickened. She adjusted her seat, cleared her throat, and looked back at her laptop, praying no one noticed that she blushed.

"Sam, have you email allocation for the goods?" 

Donna's voice broke her reverie, "Uh.. I'm so sorry? What's that's again?" 

“Um, I’m asking about the allocation of the finished goods. Have you sent the email to us… Ms…?” Paul’s voice cut through the room.

His eyes met hers—sharp, unwavering, almost too direct. Samantha froze for a split second. It’s Samantha… she managed to say, barely audible.

She held her breath, forcing herself to focus on the subject at hand. It wasn’t easy. There was something about Paul’s gaze that seemed to strip away her composure, as if he could see right through her.

Samantha took a slow breath, gathered her thoughts, and continued explaining carefully until everyone around the table nodded in understanding.

Paul finally offered a faint smile, the dimple on his cheek showing for just a moment.

The meeting wrapped up soon after, the tension in the room easing as chairs shifted and papers rustled—a quiet end to an unexpectedly intense discussion.

Samantha closed her laptop and gathered her things, trying not to think about how the air in the room still carried a trace of him. She walked briskly toward the elevator. Just as the doors were about to close, Paul slipped in.

For a moment, neither spoke. The hum of the elevator filled the silence. The space between them felt too small, too aware. Samantha kept her eyes on the numbers above the door, but she could feel his presence—steady, close, unsettling.

Since that day, their encounters had been reduced to brief nods in the hallway or accidental meetings in the elevator—small fragments of connection that both pretended not to notice. It was easier that way. The less they spoke, the safer it felt.

But every time their paths crossed, something unspoken hung between them—an invisible pull, like gravity.

That afternoon, when the elevator doors opened, Samantha stepped out and caught sight of Paul walking toward his car. A woman waited by the passenger side—his wife.

Her breath hitched. The drizzle had begun, soft and uncertain, blurring the lights outside. She stood there for a moment, watching them disappear.

After all, she thought quietly, who would ever choose to be the other woman?