Three Married Colleagues Trapped In A Dangerous Affair

One morning, I arrived at my office to find a stranger sitting at the desk next to mine. She didn’t seem like someone waiting for a meeting; she was comfortably settled in her chair, typing away on the computer. I greeted her, “Good morning! Who are you?” She glanced at me with a smirk and replied, “I’m Sandra, but you can call me Sandy. You must be Francis?”

“Yeah, that’s me. How did you know?”

“I started working here a week ago, and they mentioned you were on leave.”

That marked the beginning of my friendship with Sandy. At the time, she was in her fifth year of marriage, while I was in my third. Our office was small and tucked away from the main company compound, with only the cleaners passing through. It felt like we were in our own little world.

Five months after Sandy joined, we welcomed a new colleague, Evans, who was also married. Suddenly, we had three married individuals sharing a cubicle. Our conversations revolved around work and our experiences in marriage. We spoke freely and listened to each other with open hearts.

If Sandy had a rough night with her husband, she would come to us and vent, “Can you believe what your brother did last night? I was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but he wouldn’t let me, so I gave in. He lasted only two minutes!” We would laugh and tease her, while Evans would share similar stories about his own marital struggles.

It became a support system for all of us. When home life got tough and overwhelming, we had our little cubicle to escape to each morning. I looked forward to going to the office, eager to see what my friends would bring to the table that day.

However, I soon noticed a shift in the atmosphere. Evans and Sandy were growing closer, often leaving me out. They would go to lunch together, and the places we used to frequent as a trio were now just for the two of them. Their whispers and exchanged glances became more frequent. We weren’t fighting, so I tried not to let it bother me, and I continued to participate in our discussions.

One lunchtime, I asked if they were ready to go. Sandy replied, “I’m not going today; I just ate.” Evans added, “I need to finish these entries and send them up before the hour is out.” I ended up going alone, grabbing my wallet and cutlery before heading out.

On my way to the canteen, I decided to return for my phone. I turned the knob, but the door was locked. I shook it several times until Evans finally spoke up, “Who’s there?” I didn’t respond, continuing to shake the knob until the door opened. Their faces revealed a mix of guilt and shame, and they couldn’t meet my gaze. I noticed something was off with Sandy’s appearance.

“Since when did we start locking this door?” I asked. Silence filled the room as they stared at their computers, avoiding my question. I grabbed my phone and left.

I began to piece together the recent events. “These two are clearly having an affair. A locked door? Whispered conversations? Going places without me? This is definitely an affair.”

According to the Bro Code, men don’t lie to each other in situations like this, so I confronted Evans. He admitted, “Yeah, it started not long ago. We realized we had feelings for each other, so we decided to explore it.”

“Explore what? Aren’t you both happily married? Did you lie during our conversations?” I pressed. He replied, “It’s not like we’re leaving our spouses to be together. It’s just a fire we’re trying to quench.” He referred to their relationship as “fire,” and I was relieved to hear that. Fire can cook your food, but it can also burn your house down. I warned him, “You’re not kids, and I’m not pretending to be a saint, but remember that fire burns.”

Things shifted once I learned the truth. Sandy realized I was aware of their affair and shared her perspective: “It’s not serious. Evans understands, and we know our limits.” One called it “fire,” while the other dismissed it as “not serious.” I could only sit back and watch the charade unfold.

Some days, they acted affectionately around me, seemingly indifferent to my presence. When their passion flared, I would leave the cubicle, returning to find the air thick with the scent of sex. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I could swear I smelled a mix of sweat and intimacy. At times, I envied them; they appeared genuinely happy and were enjoying life.

We had started as three couples sharing our marital journeys, but now it felt like there were just two who reveled in their affair while their friend was absent. There were pros and cons to this arrangement. When they fought, it affected my work, and I struggled to get either of them to complete simple tasks. Yet, when they were happy, their energy brought a certain lightness to our small cubicle.

I didn’t judge them; I just hoped their story wouldn’t end in disaster. That was two years ago, and as I write this, they are still together, growing stronger each day. At our end-of-year party last December, they both attended with their spouses. I stayed back and observed them, amazed at how in love they seemed with their partners. They avoided each other all night, sticking close to their spouses, smiling, dancing, and appearing genuinely happy.

I wondered, “What kind of devil allows this? How can two people love their spouses so deeply yet still cheat with each other?”

Love is a strange thing. It manifests differently for everyone. Some cheat when they feel unloved in their marriages, while these two seem to have it all yet still seek more outside. What’s their excuse? What drives them?

It’s been two years, and they appear to be masters of their secret. So far, there’s been no suspicion at work, and they continue their affair. I can only hope that when their time comes, it won’t also spell the end for their marriages.

—Patrick  
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