Tom lay on his back, the weight of Martha’s head nestled in the hollow of his collarbone. One leg draped over him, her palm pressed to his chest just above his heart. He listened to her steady breathing, melting into contentment. “I could stay like this forever,” he thought, closing his eyes.
A sudden jolt woke him—as if someone had nudged him sharply in the ribs. Martha stirred beside him.
“Already?” she mumbled sleepily.
He couldn’t see the window from the sofa, but the deepening darkness in the room told him evening had long since fallen. Time to abandon their little nest. And how he wished they didn’t have to…
They’d met too late, both already tangled in the webs of family duty. They lived from stolen moment to stolen moment, aching for these precious hours together. Tom exhaled without meaning to, and Martha lifted her head.
“Goodness, it’s pitch black!” she exclaimed, suddenly wide awake, and sprang from the bed.
The spot on his chest where her hand had been grew cold. She was right there beside him, yet loneliness already gnawed at his heart.
“Up you get. We’ve got a drive ahead of us. What on earth will I tell my husband?”
“The truth,” Tom suggested, throwing off the sheet.
They dressed hurriedly, avoiding each other’s eyes. He couldn’t care less what awaited him at home. He’d long since braced for the worst—sick of lies and secrecy. She, though, fussed, irritated they’d wasted precious time by dozing off.
“Say you bumped into an old schoolmate while shopping—lost track of time,” Tom offered.
“He knows all my friends. Might call them.” She stubbornly refused to look at him.
“Make someone up, then. Blame it on a long-lost acquaintance.”
“What will *you* tell your wife?” Martha stopped buttoning her blouse and fixed him with a stare.
He stepped closer, cupped her face, and searched her eyes.
“She stopped asking ages ago. She knows.” He kissed her, and she softened in his arms.
The darkness thickened, wrapping them in an invisible shroud, as if reluctant to let them go.
Martha pushed him away lightly but firmly.
“We’ll never leave at this rate.” She resumed buttoning her blouse.
Tom wanted to reassure her. He’d begged her countless times to come clean—to break free of the lies. But the children… He adored his ten-year-old Lily, and Martha fretted over her twelve-year-old son, Jack.
When they’d started this, he’d assumed it would fizzle out after a fling. But it hadn’t. He’d sacrifice everything for her—but would she? Martha dodged the question, asked for time. Tom sighed.
“Don’t be cross. We agreed…” Her voice held a guilty note.
“Go down to the car. Keys are in my jacket. I’ll tidy up here,” he said, folding the sheets.
“Don’t dawdle,” she called from the hallway.
How quickly those hours had slipped away. Usually, after passion, they’d talk and dream. Today, they’d foolishly dozed off, leaving things unresolved.
The dim hallway light barely touched the room. The door clicked shut—she was gone. Tom reassembled the sofa, stashed the sheets in the drawer beneath. The landlady never touched them. He scanned the room for traces of their presence. Nothing.
In the cramped entryway, he shrugged on his coat, pulled a few folded banknotes (withdrawn earlier from the cashpoint) from his pocket, and left them on the side table. A flick of the switch, and he was out the door.
He rented this flat for a few hours at a time from an elderly widow. A colleague had suggested it, having used it himself once. The landlady always vacated at their appointed hour. He never asked where she went. She needed the money; they needed the privacy.
A hotel would’ve been simpler—but too public. Too many familiar faces. And the thought of beds others had used unsettled him.
On the stairs, he passed a woman lugging heavy shopping bags. He muttered a greeting and sidestepped. She ignored him, her suspicious gaze boring into his back.
In his own building—where he lived with his wife and daughter—everyone exchanged pleasantries, though he hardly knew them. Just good manners.
Here, strangers didn’t bother. The tenants of this block knew each other too well; unfamiliar faces invited scrutiny. The elderly were downright distrustful.
He slid into the car and glanced at Martha.
“Ready?”
In the dark interior, her expression was unreadable.
“Maybe you’re right. We should end the lies. We’re happy together. But where would we live? If we… stayed.”
The unfinished conversation must have weighed on her too.
“We’ll figure it out. Rent a place at first.”
“Like this one?” Her voice wavered.
He didn’t answer, eyes fixed on the road. Traffic thickened as they neared the city centre. Tom pulled over before Martha’s street. She leaned in for one last kiss—a fleeting closeness before parting.
“Till Tuesday?” She drew back, her eyes glinting—streetlights or tears?
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Tom promised.
Martha opened the door and vanished between the buildings without a backward glance.
He sat for a moment, half-hoping she’d change her mind. Then he turned the car toward home.
***
The flat was dark, save for a sliver of light under Jack’s door. Martha undressed and peeked in.
“Hey. Was your dad home?” she asked, leaning over his shoulder.
“Hey, Mum. Yeah. He left again.”
“Did he say where? Or when he’d be back?”
“Nope.” Jack didn’t look up from his notebook.
“I’ll make dinner.” She retreated to the kitchen.
They’d met at university. He’d pulled up beside her in his car, asking for directions to a tucked-away building. She hadn’t known how to explain, so she’d offered to show him.
Afterwards, he’d often waited by the campus gates. She’d slide into his car under the envious whispers of friends.
When he proposed, her mother had urged her to accept.
“He’s steady. Won’t cheat. You’ll want for nothing. What more do you need? Love burns out fast—then come the drinks, the fights, the affairs… He’s reliable. Older. A flat, a car, doesn’t drink.”
So she’d agreed. Back then, she’d believed she’d grow to love him. She hadn’t. When she’d realized she was pregnant, her first thought had been to end it. Then fear took over.
“He’ll dote on a son. Your husband paid for my eye surgery. Buys my blood pressure pills. Thanks to him, I can still walk…”
All true. But how to live without love? Comfortable, yes—but empty. Then, a year ago, she’d met Tom. Her starved heart had answered his instantly.
The front door clicked. Her husband shuffled in, shrugging off his coat. He slumped at the kitchen table.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” she said, back turned.
Silence. After a minute, she glanced over. He sat frozen, staring blankly.
“Everything alright?”
He startled, then met her eyes—unease flickering in them. Or was that fear?
“You tell me,” he countered.
“Ran into an old schoolmate… Lost track of time.”
She could’ve said nothing—he hadn’t asked—but she’d babbled anyway.
“I’ll call Jack.” She fled, grateful for the reprieve. His tension was palpable.
They ate wordlessly.
“What’s wrong?” she finally burst out.
“Nothing now.” He glanced at her, then away.
*Now?* Her stomach clenched. Women always sensed disaster before it struck. She knew—he *knew*. But how? She barely made it to the bathroom.
“Feeling sick?” His voice behind her made her jump.
“Something I ate,” she croaked.
He watched her, as if trying to pry thoughts from her skull.
“I’ll be out soon.” She turned on the tap.
He lingered, then left. She exhaled, splashing her face in the mirror. What a mess.
She fished her phone from her bag, locked herself back in, and dialled Tom. *”The number you have called…”* She rarely called when he was at home. Why bother? He’d said so himself.
Returning to the lounge, she caught a news bulletin—a crumpled car, a license plate zoomed in. *Tom’s plate.*
“—collision between an SUV and a saloon near Teach Street and the High Road…”
Martha gasped, air refusing to reach her lungs. Her husband turned at the sound.
“You alright?”
He guided her to the sofa, brought water. She sipped, teeth chattering against the glass.
“You’re shaking.”
She shook her head, handing back the glass.As she clutched Tom’s hand in the car that day, watching the city blur past, she realized love wasn’t about perfect timing—it was about choosing each other, flaws and all, and never looking back.
