**The Past Stays in the Past**
“Go sort this out with our partners once and for all,” the director said irritably, glaring at James. “I’ve already spoken with their manager—they’re expecting you. Leave tomorrow morning, take the documents. I’m counting on you,” he added, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“No problem, I’ll handle it,” James nodded. “I’ll drive.”
Business trips were nothing new for someone in James’s position. He enjoyed the work—new cities, faces, conversations. It was all predictable: travel by car or plane, meetings, resolving issues, a hotel, dinner at a pub. Then, back home.
His wife, Emily, had long grown used to these trips. Once a week, sometimes less, James would set off for different towns across the country.
“Em, I’ve got a business trip tomorrow morning,” he announced, stepping into their cosy flat in Manchester.
“Long one, or the usual?” she asked, that familiar hint of worry in her voice.
“Just the usual, quick one,” James smiled, hugging her and kissing her temple.
His travel bag was always ready. Emily, ever thoughtful, kept it packed. James trusted her completely, only adding documents and keys before leaving.
They’d been married twelve years, raising their son Daniel, a schoolboy and aspiring footballer. It was James’s second marriage, but his first truly happy one. He adored Daniel—bright, kind, disciplined, excelling in both studies and sport.
Among friends, whether fishing or at the pub, James always spoke fondly of Emily:
“I got lucky finding a woman who makes life easy. I trust her completely, and she does the same.”
“Bit jealous, mate,” some would sigh. Not all of his mates had such steady relationships—some, like James, were on their second marriages, while his best friend, Tom, was on his fourth.
Early the next morning, James woke to the smell of pancakes.
“She never stops,” he thought, smiling. “Already up cooking. I’m a lucky man—hope I don’t jinx it.”
“Morning, love,” he said, stepping into the kitchen after his shower.
“Know how to keep you happy,” Emily winked, sliding a plate of pancakes toward him. “Make sure you miss these and hurry back.”
“Cheeky,” James laughed. “Daniel’s got that big match today, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah, against the team from Leeds,” Emily nodded. “Said they’re fighting for the win.”
“I’ll call tonight to see how they did,” James promised as their son slept on.
Bag packed, documents in hand, he kissed Emily goodbye and left in high spirits. A four-hour drive to Birmingham lay ahead. On the motorway, away from city noise, he breathed deep. September had barely begun, but golden leaves already swirled in the air, clinging to the windscreen.
At the partner’s office, James sorted the matter quickly. All that remained was dinner before heading home. He loved driving at night—quieter, emptier. He chose a familiar pub on Birmingham’s outskirts, a cosy spot without the usual bustle.
Parking, he glanced at the sky. Dark clouds loomed, thunder rumbling in the distance.
“Storm in September?” James frowned. “Rare.”
Inside, he took a table by the window. The waiter took his order as lightning flashed outside. Then, with a crack of thunder and the drum of rain, the door swung open—and in walked a woman.
James froze.
He’d have recognised her anywhere.
Sarah.
His first wife—the woman he’d once worshipped, then despised. She was still stunning.
Their marriage had been chaos. Five years with Sarah felt like an eternity. What started as passion became torment—fights, affairs, jealousy. He’d left, returned, until finally cutting ties completely. After the divorce, he’d met Emily, finding peace at last. He hadn’t seen Sarah since.
“What’s she doing in Birmingham?” His chest tightened.
Sarah scanned the room. The waiter gestured to a nearby table. She sat, shedding her raincoat, auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. That proud posture, that familiar smile. James hesitated—leave in the downpour or stay?
Then she spotted him. Paused. Smiled.
“James? Can’t believe my eyes! Fate, you being here?”
He forced a smile, feigning indifference.
“Hi. Yeah, just work.”
“Mind if I join?” Before he could answer, she slid into the seat opposite.
Rain lashed the windows, thunder fading. The waiter took her order, warning of delays. Sarah wiped her hands, chatting animatedly:
“So, how’ve you been?”
“Good. You?” Short. Guarded.
She barely answered, launching into updates about herself, smiling. James barely listened, lost in memories.
They’d met when Sarah worked at a company branch. First phone calls, then a Christmas party where sparks flew. They’d talked all night in her hotel, next day wandering museums. The second night wasn’t for talking.
“I drove here,” he’d said then. “Fancy a lift home?”
“Wouldn’t say no,” Sarah had laughed.
They moved fast—living together, marrying. But soon, James noticed her flirting with clients.
“Why the act with them?” he’d asked once.
“It’s the job,” she’d shrugged. “Keeps them keen.”
Then he’d returned early from a trip to an empty house. Sarah stumbled in at dawn, reeking of wine.
“Where were you?”
“Why are you back today?” she’d deflected.
Later, he caught her with someone else. No excuses. Game over.
“James.” Sarah’s voice snapped him back. She leaned in. “Come to mine after? I’m Sales Director here now. We could relive old times…”
He studied her—still beautiful, but ice where warmth once was. No pull. She felt like an old colleague best avoided. The past was dead.
“No, Sarah. Not happening.”
The waiter brought food. James excused himself, stepping outside—suddenly desperate to hear Emily’s voice.
“Hi, love,” she answered warmly. “Miss you. Knew you’d be back late.”
“Soon,” James smiled. “Just eating, then driving.”
Dinner passed in stifled silence. Sarah talked; James picked at his food, barely listening.
“Food’s rubbish,” he muttered, standing. “Thanks for the chat.”
A polite goodbye, then he strode into the rain, gunning the car home—toward warmth, toward love.
He called Daniel en route. His son whooped about his team’s victory. James grinned, heart full.
The lesson? Some roads are better left untraveled twice.
