**Chapter 1: Cracks in the Facade**

Denise and Jack sat on the couch in their living room, the tension between them palpable. It had been a year since Jack's affair with Stacey, but Denise was still struggling to get over it. "Jack, can I ask you something?" Denise said, her voice laced with anxiety. "Of course, what's up?" Jack replied, putting down his beer. "It's just...I was wondering...what it was like," Denise said, her eyes avoiding Jack's. "what do you mean?" Jack asked, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "You know, with Stacey. What the sex was like," Denise pressed, her voice barely above a whisper. Jack sighed and rubbed his temples. "Denise, do we really have to do this?" "Yes, I need to know. Was it...better than us? Did you...did you enjoy it more?" Denise's questions came tumbling out in a rush. Jack's expression darkened. "Denise, stop. You're not going to like what I have to say." But Denise wouldn't let up. "Tell me. I want to know every detail." Jack's eyes flashed with anger, but he knew he was trapped. "Fine. The sex was...incredible. It was like nothing I've ever experienced before. Stacey...she was different. She liked it rough, and she let me be dominant in a way that you never have." Denise's face went pale, but she nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. "What do you mean?" Jack's words tumbled out in a brutal torrent. "I mean, she liked to be taken control of, and she loved it when I was rough with her. She'd scream and beg for more...it was intoxicating. We'd have marathon sessions of sex, sometimes going at it for hours on end. And when we did, it was like nothing else mattered. It was just us, lost in the moment." As Jack spoke, he could see the pain etched on Denise's face, but he couldn't stop himself. He was caught up in the memories, reliving the passion and excitement he'd felt with Stacey. "And...and she liked it when I...when I did certain things to her," Jack continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Things that you never have...you never would." Denise's eyes overflowed with tears, and she turned away, her body shaking with sobs. Later that day, Jack found himself at the Queen Vic, nursing a pint and staring at his phone. He couldn't shake the memory of Denise's devastated face. He needed to talk to someone, and there was only one person he could turn to. He sent a text to Stacey: "Hey, need to talk." Stacey's response came almost immediately: "What's up? I'm at my flat. Come over." Jack arrived at Stacey's flat, and she greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, love. What's going on?" Jack slumped onto the couch, and Stacey followed, sitting beside him. "I don't know, Stacey. Denise is killing me. She's been asking me all these questions...about us." Stacey's expression softened, and she reached out, stroking his arm. "I'm sorry, Jack. I had no idea." As they talked, Stacey moved closer, her thigh brushing against Jack's. He felt a spark of attraction, and his heart began to pound. Stacey's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know, I've missed you, Jack. I've missed the way you used to make me feel." Jack's eyes met Stacey's, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. He could see the desire in her eyes, and it was like a punch to the gut. Stacey reached out, her hand stroking his thigh, sending shivers down his spine. "I've missed the way you touched me, the way you made me scream." Jack's thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew he should pull away, but he couldn't. He was caught up in the memories, the passion, and the adrenaline. As Stacey's hand continued to stroke his thigh, Jack felt his resolve crumbling. He was torn between his desire for Stacey and his loyalty to Denise. "I should go," Jack muttered, but he didn't move. Stacey's voice was a whisper. "Don't go, Jack. Stay with me. Let's see where this goes." As Jack sat there, Stacey's hand on his thigh, he knew he was in trouble. He was trapped between his past and his present, and he didn't know which way to turn.