Tuesday, 12th March
The house was quiet, just the way I liked it in our little town of Oakwood. Maternity leave had settled into a rhythm—lullabies, nappies, the endless cycle of domesticity. But every evening, I’d wait for Daniel to come home, desperate for a glimpse of the world beyond our cosy flat. Today, he was later than usual, his tired eyes shadowed with something unspoken.
“How was work?” I asked, forcing a smile, hoping for even a scrap of news to break the monotony.
Daniel hesitated, the silence thickening like fog.
“You’ll never believe the coincidence,” he finally said, with a nervous chuckle. “Small towns, eh?”
“What do you mean?” My fingers tightened around my mug as a chill crept up my spine.
“There’s a new girl at the office. When I saw her, I—well, it was Olivia. Olivia Hartley.”
The blood drained from my face. That name—like a ghost from the past—hit me square in the chest. Seven years ago, when I first met Daniel, he’d been different: bright, open, but utterly taken. His heart belonged to Olivia, the same Olivia whose name now sent a storm raging through mine.
Back then, I’d kept my distance. I respected their relationship, too afraid to intrude. Our paths crossed through mutual friends, and sometimes I’d catch myself watching him—charming, kind, with a smile that warmed the room. I’d wondered what it must’ve been like to be her. Then one day, he appeared alone, hollow-eyed. They’d broken up—her choice.
I’d sympathised, of course. But buried deep, there’d been relief. My chance had come. I waited months, made sure it was truly over before inviting him for dinner. That was the start of us. Easy conversations, laughter, then love. Two years later, we married. Three years after that, our daughter arrived, and here I was, drowning in baby toys and unspoken fears.
But Olivia… Olivia had been the one who’d shattered him. The one whose place I’d taken. All these years, I’d wondered if his love for me was just a balm for that old wound. And now, her name hung between us, resurrecting every doubt.
“Bloody hell,” I managed, fighting the tremor in my voice. “How is she?”
Daniel shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “Didn’t talk much. Just a quick hello.”
“Is she married?” The words clawed at my throat.
“Dunno,” he snapped, irritation flickering. “Doesn’t matter to me. We smiled, moved on. End of story.”
But I knew he was lying. His words rang hollow—for me, for himself. Jealousy slithered through me like poison. What if she wanted him back? What if those old feelings flared? I remembered how deeply he’d loved her. That had been real.
Daniel wasn’t being honest with himself either. He was curious. Maybe even pleased to see her. Something had stirred when their eyes met. Not that he’d act on it—he loved me, loved our daughter. But I saw it: he was looking forward to tomorrow, just to talk to her again.
Before leaving for work, he tried to soothe me. “I’ll try to finish early today. Fancy making that stew I like?”
“Course,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.” But my voice wavered.
He never said “love you” before work. Was that guilt? Or reassurance? They say men overcompensate when they’re hiding something. The thought gnawed at me.
I busied myself with our daughter, but the anxiety wouldn’t loosen its grip.
At the office, Daniel saw Olivia again.
“Hello, stranger. You look well,” she said, her eyes gleaming.
“So do you,” he replied, something twisting inside him.
“Fancy lunch? Catch up properly?”
“Suppose so…”
He knew it was wrong. Boundaries needed drawing. But what harm was there in lunch with a colleague? They lingered over sandwiches, talking like no time had passed. Olivia wasn’t married—never found “the one.”
“Funny thing is, I regretted leaving you,” she admitted. “But by then, you were taken.”
“You ended it,” he reminded her, a hint of old hurt surfacing.
“I was an idiot,” she laughed. “Wouldn’t let you slip away now.”
The air between them thickened. This wasn’t just small talk. Daniel hadn’t felt this rush in years. His love for me was steady, safe—but where was the spark?
They returned to work topics. Olivia asked for help with a new system. He stayed late, texting me he’d be delayed, guilt prickling. But he wanted more time with her.
An hour passed, their conversation drifting from work to memories. She turned to him, smiling, their faces inches apart. One move, and everything would change.
Daniel stood abruptly. “I should go. Family’s waiting.”
Olivia nodded, disappointment flickering.
On the drive home, his chest was heavy. He hadn’t crossed the line. But fidelity wasn’t just about actions—it was thoughts, desires. And his were no longer certain.
I’d kept his dinner warm, made his favourite—shepherd’s pie. For once, I didn’t ask about his day. Too afraid of the answer.
But he saw the sadness in my silence. And in that moment, he knew: no fleeting thrill was worth my pain.
“Been thinking,” he said suddenly. “Remember Tom’s offer? Better pay. Maybe I should take it.”
“You said you didn’t want to work for a mate,” I murmured.
“Thoughts change. No growth at my current place. Might be good.”
“Really?” Hope flickered in my voice.
“Really.” He smiled. “I want us happy. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I didn’t press further. But his willingness to leave—for me—eased the ache in my chest. Whatever had happened, he’d chosen us.
Daniel knew he’d been close to the edge. Those feelings for Olivia might’ve faded, but he wouldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t let me live in fear.
Maybe he should’ve felt nothing. But life wasn’t that simple. What mattered was his choice.
Sometimes love isn’t passion. Sometimes it’s choosing to stay.
