“Come When You Can”
“Hello, Emily?” The familiar voice sent a jolt through her. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might wake her husband, if not for the drone of the telly in the background.
“I missed you. Couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Let’s meet,” the smooth male voice on the line said.
Emily slipped out of the bedroom, pressing her back against the wall in the hallway. Her legs felt weak, unsteady.
“Emily, are you there?” His voice was magnetic, tempting, terrifyingly real.
She shouldn’t have answered. Shouldn’t have picked up without checking the caller ID. She’d tried so hard to forget him, that mad night. Told herself she had a stable marriage, a good man, years of history. She didn’t need anyone else.
She’d known her husband, William, since school. He’d been the quiet, bookish type—top marks in maths and physics, glasses perched on his nose, earning him the nickname “Bookworm.” Not exactly the sort boys like James or Liam, with their quick wit and easy charm.
But years later, running into William in London after uni, she’d thought, “He’s sweet, actually.” He’d swapped his glasses for contacts, landed a steady job at a firm. Her mum had nudged her: “You’re not getting any younger. Give him a chance.”
So she did. It was comfortable. Safe. He proposed, and she said yes. Their daughter, Olivia, came along—spoilt rotten by both grandmas, who’d have loved another grandchild to dote on. But Emily never could bring herself to try again. There was no passion, just predictability.
Then, six months ago, Emily got promoted to head of the clinic. More meetings, more conferences.
That’s where she met Daniel.
Tall, charming, the kind of man who turned heads. At the closing gala, she’d planned to leave early—until her colleague convinced her to stay. “Networking, love. You never know who you’ll meet.”
One drink led to another. Laughter, dancing. Then Daniel’s quiet suggestion: “Let’s get out of here.”
She followed him. To his hotel room. To a night that made her realise how much she’d been missing.
After, she’d sworn to forget it. But now, months later, his call shattered that resolve.
“I’m at The Royal Oak, near your place. Come when you can.”
She hung up, trembling. Told herself she wouldn’t go.
But when William asked who’d called, she lied. “No one. Just the telly.”
Later, after she’d packed his lunch, she said, “Popping round to Charlotte’s. Her little boy’s poorly.”
William’s fork froze mid-air. “You said no one called.”
She didn’t answer. Just grabbed her coat.
At the hotel, she hesitated. One look through the window, and Daniel was there, taking her hand.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
“Leave. Forget me,” she said—even as her body leaned into his.
At dawn, she pulled away. “I have to go.”
“I’ll wait. My train’s at five.”
When she got home, William was on the sofa. He hadn’t slept.
“Do you love him?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t speak. Shame wasn’t the problem. Love wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
But could she really leave? What if it didn’t work? And yet—how could she stay, knowing what she’d be missing?
William’s voice cracked. “Don’t leave me. I’d fall apart without you.”
She almost believed him.
That afternoon, as the clock ticked toward five, Emily bolted.
William called after her. “Emily!”
“Sorry—”
She reached the station just as the train announcements blared. Ran alongside the carriages, searching the windows in the fading light. Then—there. Daniel’s face.
The train screeched to a halt. He jumped out, ignoring the shouts from the conductor.
“I knew you’d come,” he murmured, pulling her close.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
“Everything will be okay. I love you.”
The train clattered away. They stood, locked together, not caring who saw.
