The phone rang, shattering the quiet of the living room. The familiar voice on the other end sent a jolt through Emily’s body, her heart hammering so violently she feared it might wake her husband.
“Hello, Emily?” The warm, masculine tone tugged at something deep inside her. She couldn’t speak. The hum of the TV drowned out the frantic rhythm of her pulse, but only just.
“I’ve missed you. I couldn’t wait any longer. I think about you constantly. Let’s meet,” he murmured, his words slipping through the line like a plea.
Emily slipped out of the room, pressing the door shut behind her, her back pressed to the hallway wall. Her legs felt weak, unsteady.
“Emily, are you there?” His voice was real—too real—drawing her in, terrifying her with its closeness.
She shouldn’t have answered. Shouldn’t have picked up without checking the caller ID. She had tried so hard to forget him, that reckless night. Told herself her marriage was stable, comfortable. That she had everything she needed.
She and Victor had known each other since school. He’d been the quiet one, the bookish boy with glasses who aced every maths and physics competition. “Little Watson,” they called him, and the name stuck. Soft-spoken, plump-cheeked—utterly unremarkable to the girls in their year.
Emily, like the others, had never seen him as anything more than a study partner. A lifeline during exams. She had always preferred the charismatic ones—the athletes, the confident, roguish types who made her laugh.
Years later, they ran into each other in London. Victor wore contacts now. “He’s… sweet,” she’d thought absently.
He graduated from Cambridge while she finished medical school. They exchanged numbers—just in case. Five years had passed since secondary school, and their classmates were planning a reunion. Victor promised to call with details, though Emily had no intention of going. She forgot about him the moment they parted.
But he called a few days later, inviting her to the cinema. She had dated, of course—nothing serious. The men she liked never stayed, and the ones she didn’t? Well, she wasn’t desperate.
“Go,” her mother had urged. “Or you’ll end up alone.”
So she went. And they kept seeing each other. Victor confessed his love quickly, proposed even faster. He was stable, dependable—a rising star at a finance firm.
“Don’t overthink it,” her mother advised. “You can shape him however you like.”
So Emily said yes.
Their relationship was steady, devoid of fireworks. If they argued, it was always her fault.
Their daughter came along. Victor’s mother kept her distance but doted on her granddaughter. Emily’s parents were always happy to help.
A second child never happened. There was no passion between them—not even in bed. Sometimes, she wondered if their intimacy was too sparse, too dull. But she never doubted his loyalty. Unlike her colleagues, whose husbands strayed, whose marriages crumbled, Victor was constant.
Their daughter grew up—bright, independent—studying design in London, living a life far more extravagant than her parents ever had.
“Money?” she’d laugh when Emily asked. “Gran and Nan are in a competition to see who spoils me more.”
The grandmothers adored her. Once, Victor’s mother had gently suggested another child—”so each of us has one to spoil.” Emily never regretted refusing. She sometimes wondered how their daughter had turned out so vibrant, given Victor’s indifference to passion.
Life plodded on. Six months ago, Emily was promoted to head of the clinic. More responsibilities, more conferences.
That’s where she met Daniel.
Men were scarce at medical conferences, but Daniel stood out—tall, handsome, impeccably dressed. Every woman noticed. The older ones mothered him; the younger ones flirted shamelessly.
The closing gala was in full swing when Emily decided to leave. She didn’t drink, didn’t care for forced small talk. But her roommate insisted.
“The best connections happen here,” the woman said knowingly. “Stay.”
So Emily stayed.
An hour later, the room buzzed with tipsy laughter. Doctors traded bawdy jokes, loosened by wine. Emily sipped politely, laughing along. Then the music started. She hovered near the exit, wishing she’d left.
“Don’t like dancing?” Daniel appeared beside her. “Let’s get out of here.”
She went with him—gladly.
They walked the hotel’s plush corridors, the muffled music fading behind them.
“Come to my room,” he said. “I’ve got a bottle of Bordeaux—no one to share it with. And I haven’t even told you the best part.”
She agreed. Maybe because she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe because she liked him. Maybe because she knew he liked her too.
In his room, he talked. The same layout as hers. A soft melody drifted from the gala below. Then he kissed her.
She didn’t push him away.
When she woke beside him, her old life seemed unbearable. She’d never felt anything like this with Victor.
With Daniel, she forgot everything. Soared, then plummeted into a bliss so deep she never wanted to surface.
But dawn came. The music had long stopped.
“I could stay another night,” Daniel murmured. “Forget the train—we’ll buy new tickets. Please. I can’t lose you.”
It was sweet, intoxicating. But Emily knew—this had no future.
“I’m married,” she whispered.
“You’re unhappy with him.”
“No.” She stood abruptly, dressing. “You have a train to catch.”
She didn’t ask if he was married. It didn’t matter.
Back in her room, her roommate eyed her but said nothing.
At the station, she convinced herself: forget this. Put it behind you. But how could she, when every inch of her still burned from his touch?
On the train, she tried to quiet her mind. Victor met her at the station, asking about the conference before launching into his own news. She barely listened, eyes closed, willing Daniel’s memory away.
That night, Victor reached for her.
“I’m exhausted,” she said, turning away.
Days passed. The memory dulled. But when Victor touched her again, she nearly recoiled, fighting tears. She started avoiding bedtime, dreading his hands on her.
Then—the call.
His voice reignited everything.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
“I can’t live without you. I’m at The Ridgemont—near your house. I’ll wait in the lobby. Come whenever you can.”
She hung up, pressing her back to the wall, steadying her breath. She wouldn’t go.
“Was someone calling?” Victor yawned from the sofa.
“No, just the TV.”
He stretched. “Fancy an early dinner?”
She reheated leftovers, avoiding his gaze.
“Aren’t you eating?”
She looked up. He was watching her.
“I’m not hungry.” She hesitated. “I’m popping over to Lizzie’s—she called. Tom’s come down with something.”
“Of course.” He took another bite. Then frowned. “Wait—you said no one called.”
She stood, already reaching for her coat. She couldn’t lie anymore.
*What am I doing?* Guilt gnawed at her. *Victor doesn’t deserve this…* But some unseen force pulled her forward. *Just one last time. Just to say goodbye…*
Victor followed her to the hallway, but she was already out the door. *He knows. I’m a terrible liar. It’s too late now…*
Outside the hotel, she paused. She could still turn back. Walk in, tell Daniel it was over.
Then he saw her through the window.
The moment he took her hand, electricity coursed through her.
“Come with me,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”
“Leave. Forget me,” she pleaded, but her body betrayed her.
“Time to go,” she said at dawn.
“I’ll wait. My train’s at five.”
When she returned, Victor sat on the sofa. He hadn’t slept.
“You love him?” His voice was hollow. “Do you want to leave?”
She said nothing. What was there to say?
Would it work with Daniel? Or would she regret it? But how could she stay, feeling nothing for Victor?
Why had love found her so late?
They sat in silence.
“Emily,” Victor choked out. “Don’t leave. I’ll fall apart without you.”
*He would*, she realized.
“Let’s go to bed.”
The next morning, she turned off her phone. Victor hovered, his face drawn. She busied herself with chores, pretending nothing had changed.
But her eyes kept darting to the clock.
*He’ll leave soon. Then it’s over.*
Yet at the last moment, she grabbed her coat and ran.
“Emily!” Victor called after her.
“I’m sorry!”
At the station, theShe never looked back as the train disappeared into the distance, her heart finally free but her future uncertain.
