Evil whispers disappear as soon as I lay my head on your chest. Your palm caresses my hair, dusting lingering worries away. I feel the fresh air tickling us through the open window. I hear your heartbeat. So calm and reassuring.

Our love is the reason why they talk. It’s the reason I walk on eggshells around the office. Muted laughs in the cafeteria. Secret eye rolls behind their desks. I’ve got myself to blame for the love that I caused that causes me so much pain.

But then I see you, and the cracks in my heart stitch themselves up without blinking. Like I know it’s all worth it because the unease is only temporary.

We dared to overstep the line. We became the dirty cliché they warn you about in handbooks, something to be declared to HR. I’m your midlife crisis and you’re my daddy issue.

Except I’ve got it worse, because I’m new to the workplace. The witch who cursed their nice-guy boss. The b*tch who broke his home.

It’s too late for you to tell them she had moved out six months before you hired me. Silence protected your dignity. Now the truth would look like a lie. People love to gossip anyway. The more you give them, the louder your life gets.

So we stay quiet. Locked in our own little peace. Patiently waiting for the outside fire to die down, hoping the smoke won’t poison the air tickling our skin.

I pray your heart won’t panic and my worries won’t crawl back. I hope my head will always find its place on your chest. And one day, we’ll walk hand in hand. Down the street, down the aisle, down the life. When whispers turn into cheers, and our love becomes a reason to celebrate.