James lay on his back, the weight of Emily’s head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. Her leg draped over him, her palm pressed against his chest just above his heartbeat. He listened to her steady breathing, melting into contentment. *This is how I’d like to spend the rest of my life…* he thought, closing his eyes.
He jolted awake as if someone had nudged him. Emily stirred beside him.
“Time to go already?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.
From the sofa, he couldn’t see the window, but the deepening darkness told him evening had fallen. It was long past time to leave their little hideaway. But he didn’t want to.
They’d met too late—both already bound by duty, by obligations to families and children. They lived from one stolen moment to the next, aching for these fleeting hours together. James sighed without meaning to, and Emily lifted her head.
“It’s completely dark!” she gasped, suddenly alert, scrambling out of bed.
Where her hand had been, his skin felt cold. She was right there—yet his heart already ached with loneliness.
“Come on, we have to go. What am I going to tell my husband?”
“The truth.” James threw off the blanket and stood.
They dressed quickly, avoiding each other’s eyes. He no longer cared what waited for him at home. He was tired of lies, tired of hiding. But Emily was tense, irritated they’d wasted precious time sleeping.
“Say you popped into a shop, ran into an old friend, lost track of time,” James suggested.
“He knows all my friends. He might even call them.” Emily refused to look at him.
“Make someone up—a schoolmate, an old acquaintance. Not a close friend.”
“And what will you tell your wife?” She stopped buttoning her blouse and fixed him with a stare.
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her, searching her eyes.
“She stopped asking questions a long time ago. She knows.” He kissed her, and she softened in his arms. The darkness thickened around them, wrapping them like a shroud—as if it, too, didn’t want to let go.
Emily pushed him away, gently but firmly.
“We’ll never leave if we keep doing this.” She hurriedly fastened her blouse.
James wanted to say something, to soothe her. He’d offered a hundred times to confess—to break free of the lies. But the children… He adored his ten-year-old Lily, and Emily worried for her twelve-year-old son.
When they’d first met, he’d thought it would fizzle out after a few encounters. But it had grown deeper, heavier. He would have given up everything for her—but would she? Emily always dodged the question, asking for more time. James exhaled sharply.
“Don’t be angry. We agreed…” Guilt crept into her voice.
“You go down to the car—keys are in my jacket. I’ll tidy up.” He started folding the sheets.
“Don’t take too long,” Emily called from the hallway.
Their time had slipped away so fast. Usually, after their passion burned out, they talked, made plans. But today, they’d fallen asleep. Now everything felt unfinished.
The dim glow of the hallway bulb barely lit the room. The door clicked shut. She was gone. James packed the sofa away, tucking the sheets into the storage drawer. The landlady never touched them. He straightened, scanning the room for any trace of their presence. Nothing.
In the cramped hallway, he dressed quickly, then pulled a few folded banknotes from his pocket—withdrawn in advance—and left them on the side table. He flicked off the light and stepped out.
The flat was rented from an elderly widow, a discreet arrangement arranged by a workmate who’d once used it himself. The landlady always left before they arrived. He didn’t ask where she went. She needed the money; they needed the privacy.
A hotel would have been easier—but risky. Too many familiar faces in lobbies, too many strangers’ histories on those sheets.
As he descended the stairs, he passed a woman carrying shopping bags. He nodded automatically and sidestepped. She said nothing, but he felt her stare burning into his back.
In his own building—where he lived with his wife and daughter—everyone greeted each other, even strangers. It was polite. Here? No one acknowledged outsiders. Maybe because the tenants had known each other for years, and a stranger raised suspicions.
James got into the car, studying Emily in the dim light.
“Ready?” He couldn’t read her expression.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should tell them. Stop all this lying.” Her voice wavered. “But where would we live?”
The unspoken question gnawed at her too.
“We’d figure something out. Rent somewhere—just for a while.”
“Like this place?” Her voice cracked.
He didn’t answer, focusing on the road. Traffic thickened as they neared the city centre. Before reaching her house, James pulled over. She leaned in for one last kiss—a final moment of closeness.
“Till Thursday?” Emily pulled back. Her eyes shimmered—streetlights or tears?
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” James said.
She got out without looking back, vanishing between the houses. He waited, foolishly hoping she might return. Then he turned the car around and drove home.
***
The flat was dark, save for a sliver of light beneath her son’s door. Emily undressed quietly and peeked in.
“Hey. Was your dad home?” she asked, looking over his shoulder at his homework.
“Hey, Mum. He came and went.”
“Did he say when he’d be back?”
“Nope,” her son replied, not looking up.
“I’ll get dinner started.” Emily left the room.
They’d met by chance. She was walking home from university when a car stopped beside her, the driver asking for directions to a tucked-away address. She didn’t know how to explain, so she offered to show him.
After that, he’d often waited outside her lectures. She’d climb into his car under the envious whispers of friends.
When he proposed, her mother had urged her to say yes.
“You’re young. He won’t cheat. You’ll never want for anything. What more do you need? Love fades faster than fire. First comes passion, then comes drinking, fists, affairs… With him, you’ll be safe. He’s older, settled, doesn’t drink.”
So she’d agreed. At the time, she thought she could learn to love him. But she never did. When she found out she was pregnant, her first thought had been to end it. Then fear took over.
“You’ll have a son—he’ll be your pride. Your husband paid for my eye surgery. He buys my blood pressure pills, my painkillers. Thanks to him, I can walk…”
All true. But how does one live without love? In comfort, in security—but hollow inside. A year ago, she’d met James. Her heart, starved for love, had answered instantly.
The front door clicked open. Her husband walked in, shrugging off his coat. He entered the kitchen and sat down.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Emily said without turning.
He didn’t reply. When the silence stretched, she glanced over. He sat rigid, staring blankly.
“Are you alright?”
He startled, then met her eyes. There was something there—unease? Fear?
“Are *you*?” he countered.
“I ran into an old schoolmate. Lost track of time…”
She could’ve stayed silent. He hadn’t asked. But the words tumbled out anyway.
“I’ll call Tom, then we’ll eat.” She hurried out, relieved for the reprieve. Something radiated off him—tension, anger.
They ate in silence.
“What’s wrong? Something’s bothering you.” She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Not anymore,” he said, eyes dropping to his plate.
*Not anymore?* Her stomach twisted.
Women sense things before they know for sure. Emily suddenly understood—he *knew*. He’d done something. But what? She barely made it to the bathroom in time.
“Are you ill?” His voice behind her made her flinch. She straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Must’ve eaten something off,” she rasped.
He just watched her, as if trying to pry into her thoughts.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” She turned on the tap, splashing water on her face. He lingered, then left.
Emily exhaled. She rinsed her mouth, staring at her reflection. *What a mess.*
She fished her phone from her bag and dialled James. *”The number you have called is currently unavailable…”* The automated voice was icy. She rarely called when he was at home. He’d asked her not to.
Stepping back into the living room, she froze. The TV showed a wrecked car—and a close-up of the license plate. James’s car.
*”—collision at the junction of Willow Lane and High Street… a 4×4 andShe clutched the phone tighter, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as the truth settled over her like a heavy fog—this was only the beginning.
