It hurts so much…
Emily was on the phone when Edward peeked into the office. Olivia narrowed her eyes at Emily, silently signalling that the call was important and they weren’t free. Edward’s head disappeared behind the closing door.
Ten minutes later, Emily finished her call and set her mobile aside.
“Edward stopped by earlier,” Olivia mentioned.
“For me? Maybe for you?” Emily snapped.
“I’m married. Haven’t you noticed how he looks at you?”
“How?” Emily lifted her gaze from the monitor.
“Like he’s interested,” Olivia replied teasingly.
Of course, Emily had noticed. She wasn’t blind. Yes, attractive—exactly her type. If only he weren’t so much younger…
Work piled up, and Emily declined Olivia’s lunch invitation. Edward entered the office and placed a cup of coffee on her desk.
“Take a break. Busy?” he asked.
“Always,” Emily smiled gratefully and took a sip.
“Fancy catching a film tonight?”
“Sorry, I’ve got my little girl.” She sipped again, avoiding his eyes.
“I know. Could your mum watch her?”
Emily finally looked up. So, he’d made the first move—no more lingering glances. Handsome, charming. If only he were older, she wouldn’t hesitate.
She looked younger than her age, but not enough to hide the gap. After her painful divorce, she’d avoided men for years—too cautious, too scared of mistakes. But time dulls pain and caution. She felt ready again. Just… not with Edward.
“So?” Olivia asked after lunch. “How’d it go? Don’t play dumb. You’re glowing.”
Emily stayed quiet, unwilling to discuss her private life. But secrecy didn’t last. Edward kept visiting, exchanging loaded glances that made her pulse race. Olivia noticed, smirking knowingly.
Their affair escalated. Daily meetups—always at hers, since Edward still lived with his mum. At first, he’d arrive after Sophie was asleep, leaving before she woke. Sometimes he stayed. Oddly, Sophie never questioned why Mummy’s friend sat drinking coffee at breakfast. She liked him—Mummy never raised her voice when he was around.
When Emily married, her ex often argued they should sell both flats and buy a bigger one once children came. But she refused—hers was a gift from her late father. Small, but safe. Now it was useful.
With Edward in her life, she started considering upsizing. Sophie was growing, noticing things. But Emily still had car payments from the used vehicle she’d bought post-divorce.
“Ever thought of a mortgage?” Edward asked once.
“Still paying off the car.”
The question unsettled her. How long would this last? Time flew—Edward was just hitting his prime, while she wouldn’t stay young forever. Makeup, treatments, even surgery could only delay the inevitable. She’d seen films where women ruined themselves chasing youth, only to be left anyway.
But Edward grew more irresistible. Every smile he gave another girl twisted jealousy inside her. How could she not fall? Her heart was free—and still young.
She stalled, unsure.
Then Edward left for a two-day work trip. With no urgent tasks to distract her, she took a lunchtime walk. The air was crisp, promising snow. Halfway, she detoured into a café for coffee.
She froze. There was Edward, leaning close to a blonde young enough to be his sister. Their hands clasped, eyes locked. The intimacy was unmistakable.
He’d lied about the trip.
A dull ache spread through her chest. Heat rushed to her face—she barely made it outside before breaking. She’d known this would happen. Just not so soon.
That evening, she snapped at Sophie, who burst into tears. Emily hugged her tight, crying too—anger, hurt, disappointment pouring out. Would she ever have a proper family?
She barely slept. If Edward came now, spun some lie about cutting his trip short, she might forgive him. Maybe she’d misseen? No—she’d ironed that shirt herself.
Morning brought a throbbing head. Sophie tantrumed, refusing nursery. Emily called her mum, asking her to babysit—she couldn’t let Sophie witness the coming confrontation.
After work, she paced, waiting. The doorbell rang.
“Hey. Sophie at your mum’s? Good. Missed you,” Edward murmured, kissing her. She pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Headache. Didn’t want Sophie catching it. You just got back?” She searched his eyes.
“Yeah, came straight here.” He nuzzled her hair—she caught a whisper of foreign perfume.
“I saw you. At the café. With that blonde.” She shoved him. “How long?”
He reached for her. “Em—”
“Go. I’ll bring your things to work.”
Locked in the bathroom, she turned the tap on full blast to drown him out. When she emerged, he was gone.
She called Olivia. “Meet me. Now.”
They drank wine at a bar. Olivia listened, refilling her glass. The alcohol numbed the pain, just enough.
Outside, the world spun. Olivia hailed a cab.
“Take her home. Fifteen Wordsworth Street. I’ve got your plate number,” Olivia warned the driver.
“Thought you were in a hurry. Didn’t realise she was drunk.”
“Bad day. Here.” Olivia handed over cash. “Get her home safe.”
Emily woke stiff-necked, head pounding. A man’s voice startled her.
“Who—where am I?”
“Taxi. Your friend flagged me down. You were out cold—no ID, dead phone. Couldn’t just leave you.” No irritation, just calm.
She checked her wallet.
“Already paid. Just coffee would be nice.”
She squinted outside—her building. Only two lights still on.
“Come up,” she mumbled, staggering out.
The cold sharpened her mind. Upstairs, she pointed him to the kitchen. “Coffee’s there. Need a minute.”
The mirror showed puffy eyes, smudged mascara. “Pathetic.” Then she scoffed—who cared now?
She washed up, dabbed on concealer. The kitchen door was shut—thoughtful. She changed into jeans and a jumper. Inside, two steaming mugs and sandwiches waited.
“Helped myself. Eat.”
She studied him properly now—mid-forties, tired but kind eyes, stubble. Not handsome, but not unpleasant.
“Razor’s in the bathroom if you want a shave.”
“Cheers.”
Listening to the sink run, she realised she didn’t miss Edward at all.
“Ready? Name’s Daniel,” he said, returning.
Not bad, she thought.
They drove to her mum’s in silence. Dawn broke over London.
“You didn’t sleep because of me,” Emily said guiltily.
“Catnapped in the car. If a man leaves a woman like you, he’s a fool.”
“Probably.”
“Ex-husband?”
“No male stuff at yours, but a razor. My wife left me for someone younger. Drank too much at first. Now I drive nights—eases the loneliness.”
“Stop here.”
Sophie barrelled into her at the door.
“Couldn’t call? Her battery’s dead,” her mum scolded.
Daniel drove them to nursery.
“Thank you. Really,” Emily said.
At work, she avoided Edward. Olivia kept her distance too, just asking, “Alright?”
“Fine. Thanks for last night.”
That evening, Daniel called.
“How’d you get my number?” She glanced at Olivia, who shrugged.
“Address. I’m a detective. Free tomorrow? You should rest tonight. Unless you need another lift home.”
She paused. “Why not?” Laughter surprised her. “I’m free.”
