My girlfriend was intelligent, successful, and always somewhere important. I lived in her flat, grateful for the space but resentful of how little of her time felt like mine. One night, while she was out at a seminar, I found one of her cards tucked inside a drawer. I used it once without thinking. Then again. A watch. Food deliveries. Tickets. Each time I waited for the question that never came. She never mentioned it. I still don't know if she noticed and chose silence, or if I never crossed the limit that would have forced her to look. A year later, I left her. Not because of what I'd taken ' but because I was tired of waiting to be discovered. And even now, I still know everything I shouldn't.