For 30 stolen minutes, I let myself be completely free. This wasn’t the first time with him, and it won’t be the last—I’ll see him again next week. But in that moment, I wasn’t a wife or someone’s other half; I was just me, giving in to everything I’ve been craving. Every kiss, every touch, every look I threw at the camera was intentional, like I wanted you—him—to see. To feel it. Maybe one day, someone will send this to him. Maybe he’ll know how alive I felt, even if it was just for half an hour.