Oh, you know how he looks at you? With love and admiration, the daughter said, looking quite pleased with herself.
Robert stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Water droplets glistened on his toned chest—not just a man, but an absolute dream. Lillian’s heart fluttered in that sweet, aching way.
He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to kiss her, but she turned her head away.
“Don’t, or I’ll never leave. I have to go. Emily’s probably home by now.” Lillian nuzzled her cheek against Robert’s shoulder.
He sighed. “Lil, how much longer? When are you going to tell your daughter about us?”
“Three months ago, you didn’t even know I existed, and you were perfectly fine,” she said, standing and pulling on her clothes.
“I don’t think I was really living—just waiting for you. I can’t go a single day without—”
“Don’t break my heart. And don’t walk me out,” Lillian cut him off, slipping out of the room.
She walked down the street, avoiding the glances of strangers. It felt like everyone knew where she’d been. The men looked curious; the women… judging.
Not that she could blame them—her figure, her poise, her striking face with those full lips and expressive eyes. Her dark hair had come loose from its clip, tumbling down her back. Right now, though, she just wanted to disappear.
***
She’d married young, at twenty, madly in love. Almost immediately, she got pregnant. Her husband begged her to have an abortion—said it was too soon, they needed to get on their feet first. But Lillian refused, and she had a healthy baby girl, hoping he’d grow to love their daughter. He never did. Well, plenty of men weren’t exactly doting fathers.
Then came the day a strange woman called, giving an address where Lillian’s husband spent his evenings. She didn’t rush to check—just waited for him and asked him outright. At first, he denied it, then made excuses, then started yelling:
“Some nutcase says something, and you believe her? You’re no better. I’m leaving, and you’ll regret it!”
He stormed out, slamming the door. Lillian didn’t want to live, but her daughter needed her, so she carried on. Two weeks later, she couldn’t take it anymore—she went to that address, hid behind a tree in the courtyard, and waited. Soon enough, he walked past, arm in arm with a younger woman. They went inside.
The next day, Lillian filed for divorce. She knew she could never forgive him—that just wasn’t her. She put Emily in nursery and went back to work.
Men came and went in her life, but none ever felt worth risking everything for. Until, years later, Robert swept into her world—tall, handsome, her match in every way. Their affair was intense, passionate. One day, Emily asked where she was going, all dressed up.
“On a date,” Lillian answered, half-joking, half-serious.
“Ohhh,” Emily drawled, smirking. She never asked again.
Emily had her mother’s figure, but not her striking looks. People always wondered how two such beautiful parents had such an ordinary daughter. But Lillian was glad—beauty didn’t pay the bills, it only caused trouble.
She’d never had close girlfriends. Not her fault—other women just envied her, worried they’d look plain next to her. Maybe that’s why she married so young—hoping her husband would be her best friend.
“He’s a bit plain for you, even if he is handsome,” her mum had said.
***
“Emily, I’m home!” Lillian called as she stepped inside.
“Finishing homework!” came the reply from her daughter’s room.
Lillian changed and headed to the kitchen. Soon, Emily joined her, breaking off a piece of bread.
“Don’t spoil your appetite, dinner’s almost ready,” Lillian said, setting the table. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“You wanted? So talk,” Emily said, digging into her meal.
“My birthday’s coming up.”
“I remember, Mum.”
“I was thinking of inviting… a friend.”
“The one you’re sleeping with?” Emily kept eating, completely unfazed.
“Seeing. And watch your tone—I’m still your mother.”
“What’s the difference? At your age, dating and sleeping together are the same thing.”
“So… can I invite him? You don’t mind?”
“Whatever. Is Gran coming?”
Lillian exhaled in relief. Fifteen was a tricky age, but Emily seemed fine with it.
“Gran’s coming Sunday. I just want you two to get along.”
“Sure, Mum, invite him.”
All Saturday morning, Lillian cooked, wanting to impress Robert. He arrived with a massive bouquet of roses, even gave her a ring. She was stunned—his boldness threw her.
He tried hard with Emily—joking, talking loudly, telling stories. But Emily was quiet, serious. After he left, Lillian cleared the table and went to her daughter’s room, sitting beside her, reaching to hug her. Emily dodged.
“You didn’t like him?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?” Lillian couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“Just didn’t. Mum, I know you’re still young, and love and all that. But he’s using you. How can’t you see it?”
“Did Gran put you up to this?”
“What’s Gran got to do with it? I’ve got eyes.”
Lillian stood and walked to the door.
“Mum… do you love him?” Emily asked softly.
Without turning, Lillian nodded.
“Then keep seeing him. Just don’t move him in here.”
“Why not?” Lillian spun around.
“I just don’t like him.” And that was that.
Strangely, Lillian felt relief. Things with Robert had moved too fast—that ring, the way he talked about their future but barely shared anything about himself. And Emily? She was just an inconvenience to him.
The next day, Robert called, saying he missed her. He didn’t ask if Emily liked him—either he didn’t care or was that arrogant.
Lillian said her mum was visiting, so no time to meet.
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, relieved.
With Gran, Emily was cheerful, chatty—nothing like last night. No one mentioned Robert, and Lillian thought, “Maybe she sees what I don’t—what love blinded me to.”
Things stayed the same—they met at his place for hours. Once, he brought up moving in again. When Lillian asked for patience, he suddenly called Emily selfish, stealing her happiness.
“In three or four years, she’ll fall in love herself, and you’ll be alone,” he snapped when Lillian refused to force it.
“So, you’re ready to leave me?”
“No, I just—I didn’t mean it.”
They fought and parted coldly—a first. Two days later, Emily came home late.
“Where were you? What about homework?”
“Mum, relax, I did it after school. Listen, I’ve got something to tell you.”
Emily followed her into the kitchen.
“Wash your hands—dinner’s ready. You look pleased. What’s up?”
Lillian could see Emily bursting with news.
“Just… you might not like it.”
“School trip money again? Where this time?”
“Mum… me and Jack found out about your Rob.”
“Found out what? He wasn’t missing.”
“No, but you don’t know the truth.” Emily’s eyes burned.
“What truth? Spit it out.”
“We found where he really lives.”
Lillian scoffed. “He lives on Victoria Street.”
“Wrong. He’s on Kensington Road—with a wife. Or some woman and a little boy, about four.”
“What? Since when do you stalk people? And—maybe it’s his sister, ex-wife, friend—”
“No, Mum, it’s his *wife*. We watched them go inside. He never came back out. We saw him smoking by the window, shirtless—”
Emily stopped when she saw Lillian’s face.
Lillian ran to the bathroom, locking the door, stifling a scream. Tears streamed down her face.
When she came out, Emily had eaten, cleared the table, and gone to her room. Lillian didn’t follow. She stepped onto the balcony, staring at the city lights, thinking of Robert.
Emily was right. The first time she’d been to his place, she’d noticed—no clutter, no photos. When he showered, she checked the fridge—no snacks, not even beer. The cupboards? Probably just a spare shirt. It wasn’t a home—just a place for affairs.
“How long was he going to lie?” Lillian pressed her chest against the railing, gasping for air.
“Mum! Mum!” Emily grabbed her from behindLillian turned and hugged her daughter tight, realizing that love had been quietly waiting for her all along in the steady kindness of their neighbor, Peter.
