Two Nights and One Day
Emily kept glancing at the clock. Time crawled like a snail, sluggish and sticky. There was still a whole hour left until the end of the workday.
“Always watching the clock, are we? In a hurry?” asked Margaret Williams, the head accountant.
“No, but—”
“Is it a man? At your age, only a man makes a woman wish the hours away. At mine, we pray they’d slow down.” Margaret sighed. “Go on, then. You’re useless like this.”
“Thanks!” Emily hurriedly closed the program on her screen.
“Do you love him?” Margaret asked with a sad curiosity.
“I do.” Emily met her boss’s gaze unflinchingly.
Their desks were angled toward each other, and Margaret had a clear view of her. The cramped office didn’t leave much room for rearranging, and Emily often felt like she was under examination.
“Then why hasn’t he married you? Not asking?” Margaret took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Ah. He’s married. Children, too? Classic. Hid it at first, then when the truth came out, you were already hooked. He promised to leave when the kids were older. Am I right?”
“How did you know?” Emily stared at her, wide-eyed.
“I was young once too. Think you’re the only one who’s swallowed that line? Darling, if a man doesn’t leave his family right away, he never will. Cut your losses. Walk away.”
“But… I love him.”
“When he tires of you—or God forbid, his wife finds out—it’ll hurt ten times worse. Save your dignity. Trust me. And don’t go spoiling your karma.” Margaret put her glasses back on, her expression stern.
“Think it over. And don’t be late on Monday,” she said without looking up from her papers.
“Love,” Margaret muttered, shaking her head as Emily hurried out.
Emily raced down the stairs, waved at the security guard, and burst into the sunlit street. She spotted Paul’s car immediately and headed straight for it.
“Took you long enough. Felt like I was a sitting duck out here,” Paul grumbled as she slid into the passenger seat.
He turned the key, pulled away from the office, and merged into traffic.
“Where are we going? Your call didn’t explain anything,” Emily asked.
“Surprise.” Paul shot her a glance that sent her heart fluttering and warmth pooling in her stomach.
The car left the city behind, speeding down the motorway before turning onto a narrow country lane winding through thick woods. Emily watched the road stretch ahead, wishing they could just keep driving—just the two of them—to the ends of the earth.
Soon, a cluster of cottages came into view.
“We’re here,” Paul announced cheerfully.
“You have a cottage?”
“Not mine. A mate’s. His wife’s due any day, so they won’t be using it. It’s ours for the weekend.”
“And your wife? She just let you disappear for two days?” Emily eyed him skeptically.
He parked by a tall wooden fence.
“Two nights and a whole day with you.” He leaned in to kiss her.
*Two nights and a day*, she thought bleakly. *Then back to the same old dance.*
Paul pulled away, got out, and started unloading bags from the boot. Emily stepped into the crisp air, inhaling the scent of grass, leaves, and something comfortingly familiar—like her nan’s garden.
*Two nights and one day! So much time! Together!* She nearly laughed, dizzy with disbelief.
“Like it?” Paul grinned, relishing her reaction. “Take this, then. Let’s head inside.” He handed her a bag and shouldered a duffel, unlocking the gate.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Course. We’re mates.”
“With your wife, or—”
“Em, don’t start. Don’t ruin it.” He pushed the gate open, letting her pass.
Inside, the cottage was quiet, the hush so thick Paul’s voice sounded muffled.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll unpack the food and switch on the fridge. Loo’s outside, sorry.”
The room was simple but homely—dried flowers in a vase, gingham curtains, a checked tablecloth. A small stove divided the space. A faux fur rug hung above the bed.
It felt lived-in, warm. Like she’d been here before.
“I wish we could stay forever,” Emily whispered that night, curled against Paul. “Just us. No one else.”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, half-asleep.
She woke first, listening to the silence, afraid to move. *Needs a geranium on the sill*, she thought. *And a crocheted tablecloth with tassels.*
A muffled ringtone shattered the quiet. Paul jolted awake, fumbling for his jeans. He grabbed his phone.
“Yeah… No, what noise? Just popped in for water… Call you later.” He tossed the phone aside.
Emily’s stomach twisted. Margaret was right. Another night, and it’d all go back to snatched moments, secrets.
The phone rang again. Paul ignored it.
“Answer it.”
He rolled over, pulling her close, kissing her. The ringing stopped, then started again.
“Answer it.” She pushed free and sat up.
With a sigh, he grabbed the phone. Emily didn’t listen. She pulled on his shirt and stepped outside.
Dawn hadn’t broken yet. Birds sang; a woodpecker hammered in the distance. She memorized the sounds, the smells.
“There you are.” Paul wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back, eyes closed, savoring his warmth.
A ringtone cut through the moment. He let go and went inside. The magic evaporated.
Margaret’s words echoed: *”Being the other woman gets old fast. You’ll tire of scraps. Walk away before it breaks you.”*
Emily dressed quickly, gathered her things, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going? I turned it off. She won’t call again,” Paul called.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No.” She stepped out, shutting the door behind her.
How far had they driven? She could hitch to the motorway. Maybe he’d follow? She glanced back. The road was empty.
Her feet ached in heels. No chance to change.
A cloud darkened the sky. Raindrops hit her skin. Of course. No umbrella.
*Where is he?* She seethed. *Fine. Catch pneumonia, then.*
The downpour soaked her through. Tears mixed with rain.
An engine roared behind her. A short honk made her jump.
“Need a lift?” a man called from the car.
Too cold to think, she climbed in. The heater kicked on. She glanced at the driver—calm face, no red flags.
“Someone hurt you?”
She stared at the wipers.
“Must’ve been bad to get in a stranger’s car in the woods.”
Her stomach dropped. “Stop. Let me out.”
Trees loomed. Fear prickled.
“Want to walk? The motorway’s miles off. Just woods. You’ll catch your death.” He pulled over.
The heater stifled her. She opened the door. Rain stung.
“Your wife waiting?” she snapped. “Or your girlfriend back at the cottage?”
Stupid. He’d done nothing wrong.
“My daughter’s waiting. Close the door.”
She studied him again. No menace. She shut the door.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. But a woman alone in the woods… Not safe.”
Silence.
“Dropped my mum at her cottage. Wanted to get back before my girl woke.”
“How old?”
“Eleven.”
“Where’s her mum?”
“Gone. A year and a half.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted to die too. But then who’d she have? You’ll survive. Everything passes—except death.”
The city appeared. His phone buzzed.
“Hey, Mouse. Almost home.” He pocketed it. “My daughter. I’m James.”
“Emily.”
They reached his flat. He ran inside, leaving her to wonder: *Why didn’t Paul come after me?*
James returned with a girl. She climbed in, grinning.
“Why are you wet?”
“Got caught in the rain. Your dad rescued me.”
“I’m Amelia-Rose. You?”
“Lovely name. I’m Emily.”
“Most call me Amy. Mum’s name was Rose.”
They chatted all the way home.
“Thanks,” Emily said as she got out. James and Amelia-Rose waved.
This was what she wanted—a family, laughter, plans.
Inside, she collapsed onto a stool, kicked off her ruined shoes, and cried.
Her phone buzzed. Paul. She silenced it.
It rang again. She answered.
“Don’t call. Ever.” She hung up.
Monday, Margaret peered over her glasses.Margaret smiled softly and said, “Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”
