Part 10

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One day, summoning all my courage, I decided to ask their real name. It was a step I'd long hesitated to take, but the mounting tension and curiosity had become unbearable. As I hit send, my heart pounded in anticipation.

Their reply came quickly, and it caught me off guard:

"Si is my real name. Simon."

The name felt strange, unfamiliar. I didn't know anyone by that name at work. Perhaps they were in a different department or a freelancer? Despite my bravery, I couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment. I'd hoped Simon would somehow be tied to my immediate world; someone I could place within my surroundings. Instead, their name only deepened the mystery.

After a pause, Simon broke the silence.

"Do you know who you're dealing with?"

I hesitated before responding.

"No, and that's unsettling. I understand that you know who I am, but I have no idea who you are."

Their next message carried a note of melancholy:

"Maybe that's for the best. You're married, and I'm married. What we're doing doesn't cross any boundaries, and there's nothing to worry about."

His words struck a nerve. While technically true, I couldn't shake the growing sense that there was more between us than just friendly chats. I cherished our conversations and everything we shared, but the mention of "boundaries" felt like a warning, as if he was reminding me to tread carefully.

And yet, deep down, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the imbalance—of him knowing who I was while remaining an enigma himself. That tension was becoming harder to bear.

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