Chapter 1: The Trap Is Sprung

Years ago, I used a burner Instagram account to flirt with a married female coworker at the office.

The memory still makes my stomach clench—one of those moments you swear will never catch up to you, until it does. I thought I was slick, hiding behind a fake handle, but deep down, I always knew the guilt was just waiting for a chance to blow up my life.

She agreed to meet up, but I blew my own cover. She saw right through me—caught me standing there like a deer in headlights.

We were both standing in the break room, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, a sad pot of coffee sitting between us. The second I realized she knew, my body went numb. I’d never seen someone’s face change so fast—from confusion to dead-on recognition. It was like all the oxygen left the room at once. My hand trembled around my coffee mug, and I nearly knocked it over, hot liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge. I gripped it tighter, hoping she didn’t notice how badly I was shaking.

The scene was so awkward, the air practically froze.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I could hear the distant whir of the copier in the hallway, but between us, everything was silent and brittle. Sweat prickled under my collar, and I wished I could fade out of existence like some cartoon character.

Honestly, I was so mortified I wanted to crawl under my desk and never come out.

If there had been a trapdoor hidden under the ugly beige office carpet, I’d have thrown myself through it without a second thought. Even the sound of my own breathing was too much, the heat of embarrassment burning through my skin.

I wanted to come up with an excuse, but in my panic, everything just tumbled out as a confession.

Words just spilled out—zero filter, zero dignity. If my boss had walked in at that moment, I probably would’ve confessed to stealing the office stapler, too. That’s how rattled I was. There was nothing left to do but face the music.