At five-thirty, the phone rang, but she didn’t answer it. Beside her, her lover lay, unmoving. Cynthia sat there, wondering about him. Did he love her? Every time she looked at him, she wanted to cry. Forcing her eyes shut, she decided to pretend to fall asleep.

Gray silence seeped into her ears. Hearing him breathe was enough to drive her mad. In an instant, she was out of her bed, and into the living room. Just as she sat down on the couch to be alone with her misery, he awoke and came after her. Kissing her neck, he entreated her, "Come on, baby, let’s go back to the bedroom. Let’s heat things back up…"

"Maybe just a little…" she conceded, not showing on the outside what she was thinking on the inside, how she didn’t want to keep making love to him, how he always said he loved her at night when they were alone, but never showed his love outside of their private trysts, how she cared about him so much, enough to pretend she didn’t care that he was making love to her without loving her as he claimed to, how she wanted to cry a million tears for every time she touched him and a million more when he touched her. "Never, ever stop," he sighed lustfully as she touched him. "Oh… you are the best… I love you."

Performing her role outwardly, Cyn was tearing herself apart on the inside, trying to rationalize what she was doing to herself. Quickly and quietly she satisfied him and watched as he rolled over, muttering, "That was so great, love." Reaching for a T-shirt to cover herself, she returned to her place on the couch. She wanted so desperately to be held by someone who really cared about her. Too many times had she sat in this same spot, on this same sofa, Roger’s parents away, trying to understand why she had come back again. Unsurprisingly, she could find no answer. Visits like this one had become so confusing for her, so many mixed emotions. Why didn't he realize that he was hurting her by synthesizing these conterfeit emotions for her? Xeroxing the same "I love you" night after night and hoping that she'll still accept it. Yes, of course she will, or at least she'll try to. Zealously.