Kiera kept glancing at the clock. Time was crawling at a snail’s pace, slow and sticky. There was still a whole hour left until the end of the workday.
“Why do you keep looking at the clock? In a rush?” asked Marianne, the head accountant.
“No, but—”
“A man, then? At your age, the only thing that makes a woman rush time is a man. At my age, we wish we could stop it.” Marianne sighed. “Go on, then. You’re no use to me like this anyway.”
“Thanks!” Kiera hurriedly closed the program on her screen.
“Do you love him?” Marianne asked with a sad curiosity.
“I do.” Kiera met her boss’s gaze directly.
Their desks were angled just right—or wrong—so Marianne could see her perfectly. The office was too small to rearrange the furniture, and Kiera always felt like she was under exam conditions under that watchful stare.
“So why hasn’t he married you yet? Not asking?” Marianne took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Ah. He’s married. Kids too, I bet. Classic. Hid the truth at first, but by the time he told you, you were already in too deep. Promised he’d leave when the kids were older. Right?”
“How did you know?” Kiera stared at her, wide-eyed.
“I was young once too. Think you’re the first to fall for that line? Sweetheart, if a man doesn’t leave his family straight away, he never will. Accept it. Walk away yourself.”
“But… I love him.”
“When he gets bored of you—or God forbid, his wife finds out—it’ll hurt even worse. At least this way you keep your dignity. Trust me. And don’t mess with karma.” Marianne put her glasses back on, her expression sharp and stern again.
“Think about it. And don’t be late on Monday,” she said without looking up from her papers.
“Love…” Marianne sighed and shook her head as the office door closed behind Kiera.
Kiera bolted down the stairs, waved at the security guard, and burst out into the May sunshine. She spotted Nate’s car immediately and hurried toward it.
“Finally. Thought you’d never come out. Sitting here like a sore thumb,” Nate grumbled as she slid into the passenger seat.
He turned the key, pulled away from the office, and merged into the stream of traffic.
“Where are we going? Your call made no sense,” Kiera asked.
“Surprise.” Nate shot her a look that made her heart flutter and warmth spread through her chest.
The car left the city behind, speeding down the motorway before turning onto a narrow country lane winding through dense trees.
Kiera watched the road unfurl, wishing they could just keep driving—just the two of them—to the ends of the earth. Eventually, a cluster of cottages came into view.
“We’re here,” Nate said brightly.
“You have a holiday home?”
“Nah. It’s my mate’s. His wife’s heavily pregnant, so they won’t be using it anytime soon. Place is ours for the whole weekend.”
“And your wife? She just let you disappear for two days?” Kiera eyed him skeptically.
He parked by a tall wooden fence.
“Two nights and a whole day ahead of us.” Nate leaned in to kiss her.
*Two nights and a day*, Kiera thought bitterly. *And then it’s back to how things were…*
Nate pulled away, got out, and started unloading bags from the boot. Kiera followed, breathing in the crisp air—grass, leaves, something nostalgic, like her gran’s village.
*Two nights and a day! So much time! Just us!* Her heart leapt despite herself.
“Like it?” Nate stood beside her, grinning at her reaction. “Take this, then. Let’s go in.” He handed her a bag and headed for the gate, a duffel slung over his shoulder.
“Have you been here before?” Kiera asked as he fiddled with the lock.
“Obviously. We’re mates.”
“With your wife, or—”
“Kiera, don’t start. Don’t ruin it.” He pushed the gate open and let her through.
Inside, the cottage was quiet—a thick, almost tangible silence that made Nate’s voice sound muffled. “Make yourself at home. I’ll put the food away and turn the fridge on. Sorry, but the loo’s outside.”
Kiera took in the room: dried flowers in a vase, plain patterned curtains, a table covered in green-checked oilcloth. A small wood burner divided the space into a living area and a tiny kitchen nook. A faux-fur rug hung over the bed.
Simple. Cosy. Familiar, like she’d been here before—like visiting her gran.
“I wish we could stay here forever,” Kiera whispered that night, curled against Nate. “Just you and me. No one else between us.”
“Mmm,” Nate mumbled sleepily.
Kiera woke first, lying still, listening to the quiet, afraid to disturb him. *Needs a pot of geraniums on the windowsill*, she thought. *And a crocheted tablecloth with tassels.*
The hush of dawn was broken by Nate’s phone buzzing. He jerked awake, fished it from his jeans, and answered hoarsely. “Yeah… What noise? Just grabbed some water… Call you later.” He tossed the phone aside and sank back into the pillow.
Kiera stiffened. Marianne was right. Another night, and everything would go back to stolen moments, sneaking around…
The phone rang again. Nate ignored it.
“Answer it,” Kiera said.
He rolled over, pulled her close, and kissed her. The phone stopped—then started again.
“Answer it.” She pushed free and sat up.
With a sigh, Nate grabbed the phone. Kiera didn’t listen. She pulled on his shirt and stepped outside. The sun hadn’t cleared the trees yet. Birds sang; a woodpecker hammered somewhere deep in the woods. She tried to memorise the sounds, the smells. This might never happen again.
“There you are.” Nate came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist. The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric. She leaned back, closing her eyes.
Then his phone rang again inside. The embrace loosened. He left her there. The morning’s magic dissolved into reality.
Marianne’s words echoed in her head: *Being the mistress gets old fast. You can’t live on scraps forever. Walk away with your dignity…*
Kiera went back in and dressed. She checked the room for forgotten things, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going? I turned my phone off—she won’t call again,” Nate called.
Kiera paused on the threshold.
“I’m going home.”
“Fine, I’ll drive you.” He sounded offended.
“Don’t. I’ll manage.” She shut the door behind her, hurried down the steps, and walked fast, putting distance between herself and the cottage.
How far had they driven from the motorway? She could hitch a ride from there. Maybe Nate would follow. She glanced back. The road was empty. The cottages had vanished behind the trees.
Her heels dug into the dirt. Nate had called, promised a surprise, hadn’t said they’d leave the city—hadn’t let her pack properly.
A cloud darkened the sky. Raindrops hit her face. Of course. No umbrella. She regretted leaving. *Where is he? Not even chasing me? Fine. I’ll catch pneumonia.*
The rain thickened, drumming the leaves. Soon she was soaked, shivering. Tears mixed with rainwater.
Between the downpour and the storm inside her, she didn’t hear the engine—just the honk as a car pulled up. She stumbled onto the verge.
“Need a lift?” a man’s voice asked.
Too cold to think, Kiera climbed in.
He turned on the heater. Warmth crept into the seat. Grateful, she glanced at him.
“Someone hurt you?”
She stared at the wipers, silent.
“Only something big makes a woman hitch with a stranger in the woods.”
The words took a second to sink in.
“Stop. Let me out.” She grabbed the door handle.
Trees walled the road. For a second, she thought night had fallen. Fear prickled.
“Stop!”
“Where’ll you go? The cottages are miles back. Just forest. You want trouble?” He eased the car to a halt.
The heater’s stifling air choked her. Rain bit her skin as she cracked the door.
“Doubt you’ll get another ride. You’ll freeze. Rain won’t stop soon. Either stay or go. I’m in a hurry.”
“What, wife waiting?” she snapped—but didn’t move. “Or did you leave your mistress at the cottage?”
Idiot. This stranger owed her nothing.
“My daughter’s waiting. Close the door.”
Kiera studied him. Calm face. Not a lunatic. She shut the door, and the car moved again.
“DidnAs the months passed, Kiera found herself smiling more often—especially when she bumped into Max and little Mary-Veronica in the lift, their laughter filling the space where her loneliness used to be.
