“How Wonderful This Peace Is…” Whispered Linda. She loved her quiet morning coffee, sipping in silence while John was still asleep and dawn was just breaking outside. In those moments, she felt everything was just right. Job—secure. Flat—cosy. Husband—dependable. What more could happiness require? She never envied friends with jealous husbands and constant rows over trivialities. John was never jealous or dramatic. He didn’t check her phone. Didn’t demand reports about her every move. Just being there was enough. “Linda, have you seen my garage keys?” John shuffled into the kitchen, hair tousled from sleep. “On the shelf by the door. Off to help the neighbour again?” “Paul asked me to take a look at his car. Carburettor’s acting up.” She nodded, pouring him coffee. It was so familiar. John was always helping someone. Colleagues with house moves, mates with DIY, neighbours with anything really. “My knight,” she thought fondly. The sort of man who couldn’t just walk past someone’s troubles. That’s what captured her heart on their first date—when John stopped to help an elderly lady carry her shopping. Anyone else might have walked on, but not John. A new neighbour moved in downstairs about three months ago. Linda hadn’t paid much attention at first. People came and went in flats, after all. But Olivia—her name was Olivia—was hard not to notice. Laughter echoing in the stairwell. Heels clicking any hour of the day. And that habit of talking on the phone so loudly the whole building could hear. “Can you believe it—he brought me loads of groceries today! All on his own, didn’t even need to ask!” Olivia’s voice carried through the corridor. Linda met her near the postboxes and offered a polite smile. Olivia positively glowed—the look of a woman head over heels. “New boyfriend?” Linda asked out of courtesy. “Not exactly new,” Olivia winked slyly. “But ever so thoughtful. Sorts out every little thing. Leaky tap—fixed. Socket sparking—sorted. He even helps with my bills! “You’re lucky.” “More than lucky! Yes, he’s married. But that’s just paperwork, right? What matters is how happy he is with me.” Linda headed upstairs with a strange uncomfortable feeling—not about anyone else’s morals, but at something she couldn’t quite identify. Over the next weeks, these run-ins continued. Olivia seemed to find her on purpose, eager to share more delighted stories. “He’s so attentive! Always asks how I am, if I need anything…” “He brought me medicine when I was ill yesterday. Searched for a late-night chemist himself!” “He always says the most important thing is to feel needed. That it’s his life’s purpose—to help…” That phrase jolted Linda. “To feel needed is his life’s purpose.” John used to say that exact thing—word for word. She remembered it from their anniversary, as he explained why he’d again stayed late helping a friend’s mum with her garden. Coincidence. Just coincidence, she assured herself. There must be lots of men with a tendency to ‘rescue’. But the little details kept stacking up. Bringing groceries unprompted—just like John. Always fixing things with his own hands. Linda pushed the thoughts away. Silly. Paranoid. Surely she couldn’t suspect her husband over the ramblings of a near-stranger. Then John started to change. Not suddenly, but gradually. Quick “popping out for a minute” would mean an hour gone. He took his phone everywhere, even to the bathroom. Short, sharp answers to simple questions. “Where are you off to?” “Got errands.” “What errands?” “Linda, why the interrogation?” Yet he seemed… happy. Almost fulfilled, as if getting his “fix” of being needed elsewhere… One evening, he went out again. “A colleague needs help sorting some paperwork.” “At nine at night?” “He works days—there’s no other time.” Linda didn’t argue. She watched out the window, but he never left the building. She shrugged on a jacket and calmly, unhurriedly, went downstairs to the familiar door on the first floor. Her finger hovered, then pressed the bell. Linda didn’t rehearse what she’d say. She just waited. The door flew open almost instantly, as if expected. Olivia stood there in a short silk dressing gown, holding a wine glass, and her smile slowly faded as she recognised her visitor. Behind her, in the light of the hallway, Linda saw John. Shirtless. Damp hair from a shower. Utterly at home in someone else’s flat. Their eyes locked. John froze mid-explanation, speechless. Olivia switched her glance between them but didn’t panic or fidget. She just shrugged with lazy indifference. Linda turned and walked upstairs. Behind her came a hurried rustle—John’s voice: “Linda, wait, let me explain…” But Linda didn’t let him in that night. …The next morning, Mrs Green arrived. Linda wasn’t surprised; of course John had called his mum and told his side. “Linda, darling, don’t be so childish!” Mrs Green settled at the kitchen table. “Men are like boys, they need to feel heroic. That neighbour of yours—she just needed help. Johnny couldn’t refuse.” “He couldn’t refuse her bedroom either, is that it?” Mrs Green wrinkled her nose as if Linda said something vulgar. “No need to twist things. John’s a good boy. He cares for people. Not a crime, is it? Well, he got carried away. It happens. My late husband… Well, never mind. The important thing is family. You’re smart, Linda. Don’t throw it all away over nonsense.” Linda looked at this woman and saw everything she never wanted to become: agreeable, long-suffering, ready to ignore anything just to preserve the illusion of family. “Thank you for coming, Mrs Green. But I need time alone.” Her mother-in-law left in a huff, muttering about “young people these days and their inability to forgive.” John returned that evening, creeping around the flat like a guilty cat, trying to catch her eye, reaching for her hand. “It’s not what you think, Linda. She only asked for help with her tap, then we got talking, she’s so sad, so lonely…” “You weren’t wearing any clothes.” “I… I spilt water on myself! While fixing her tap! She lent me her t-shirt and then you walked in…” Linda marvelled she’d never noticed this before—John was a terrible liar. Every word rang false, every gesture screamed panic. “Look, even if… suppose… say, something happened. Doesn’t mean anything! I love you. She’s just… a side thing. Moment of madness. Men’s weakness.” He sat beside her on the sofa, trying to hug her. “Let’s forget it ever happened. I swear, it’s over. Honestly, she’s more hassle than she’s worth, always needs something, always complaining…” And that’s when Linda finally understood. This wasn’t guilt. It was fear—of losing his comfort, of being left with a woman who truly needed him, rather than one who just let him “play knight” to a schedule. “I’m filing for divorce,” she said simply, like saying, “I’ve switched off the iron.” “What? Linda, are you mad? Over one mistake?!” She stood up and went to the bedroom. Pulled out an overnight bag. Started packing documents. …The divorce was done within two months. John moved in with Olivia, who welcomed him with open arms—briefly. Soon the open arms turned into lists: Fix. Buy. Pay. Sort. Help. Linda heard about this through mutual friends. She nodded without bitterness. Everyone gets what they deserve. She rented a tiny flat clear across the city. Every morning she drank her coffee in peace—no one asked where the garage keys were, no one popped out “for a minute” and returned smelling of someone else’s perfume. No one urged her to swallow pride and be “the bigger person.” Strange thing: she’d expected pain—a crushing loneliness, regret. Instead, she felt something else—a lightness, as if she’d taken off a heavy coat she’d worn for years without noticing its weight. For the first time, Linda belonged only to herself. And it was better than any so-called stability…

How peaceful it is Alice whispers.

She loves having her morning coffee in silence while William is still asleep and the first gentle glow of dawn spills over the rooftops outside. In these moments, it feels as though everything is where it should be. Her job steady. The flat snug and welcoming. Her husband steadfast. What more could she possibly need to be happy?

She never begrudges her friends their complaints about possessive husbands and arguments over nothing. William has never been the jealous sort, never thrown tantrums. He doesnt snoop through her phone or demand explanations for every step. He is simply there, and thats always been enough.

Alice, have you seen my garage keys? William stumbles into the kitchen, hair ruffled from sleep.
They’re on the shelf by the front door. Helping the neighbour again?
Davids asked me to have a look at his car. Something to do with the carburettor.

She nods, pouring coffee for him too. Its become such a natural part of their life. William is always the one lending a hand: colleagues moving house, friends with DIY woes, neighbours with practically anything. My knight, she sometimes thinks fondly. A man who can never walk past someone in trouble.

Alice had fallen for that trait on their very first date, when William stopped on the pavement to help an elderly lady carry her shopping up the stairs. Any other man might have walked on by. Not William.

The new neighbour moved into the flat below about three months ago. At first, Alice hardly noticed herits such a transient building, with people forever coming and going. But Emma, as she discovered, is the kind of woman you simply cant ignore.

Raucous laughter in the stairwell. The clatter of her heels echoing at all hours. And that way she has of shouting into her mobile so the entire block is roped into her conversations.

Would you believe it, he brought me groceries today! A whole carrier bag! Off his own back! Emma trumpets into her phone.

Alice bumps into her by the postboxes and offers a polite smile. Emma beamsglowing with that unmistakable satisfaction women have in the first fall of love.

Someone new? Alice asks, simply making conversation.
Not exactly new, Emma replies, narrowing her eyes mischievously. But oh, hes one of a kind. Sorts anything out, you know? Tap leakingfixed in a tick. Socket sparkingsorted it. He even helps me with the bills!
Sounds like youve struck gold.
Thats putting it mildly! Mind you, he is married. But thats just a bit of paper, isnt it? The main thing is hes happy with me.

Alice climbs the stairs to her own flat, discomfort prickling at the back of her mind. Not out of moral outragemore that something, she cant say what, grates about the whole exchange.

Over the weeks that follow, these chance encounters pile up. Emma seems, if anything, to go out of her way to catch Alice in the corridor, eager for yet another enthusiastic update.

Hes so thoughtful! Always asks if I need anything…
He brought over medicine when I was illfound a chemist open in the small hours, can you imagine?
And he told me the point in life is being needed Thats what keeps him going…

And there, Alice shudders.

“To be neededthats his purpose in life.”

William has said those very words. She recalls them precisely; hed explained his lateness on their anniversary by saying hed been helping a friends mother in the garden.

Coincidence. Just a coincidence. Plenty of men have this need to be a rescuer.
But the details stack up: bringing groceries unasked, fixing broken things by handall Williams habits too.

Alice tries to shake the thought. Nonsense, paranoia. Surely you cant suspect your own husband based on a neighbours chatter.

Then William starts to change. Imperceptibly at first, then all too clearly. He steps out just for a minute, returning an hour later. He now clings to his phone, even in the bathroom. Answers her most basic questions with an edge of irritation.

Where are you off to?
Got some things to do.
What things?
Alice, whats with the interrogation?

Yet he looks… content. Fulfilled. As if hes found somewhere the feeling of being needed, a feeling that seems to have faded at home.

One evening, he heads out again.

A colleague needs some help with paperwork.
At nine oclock at night?
He works during the daythis is the only time hes free.

Alice doesnt argue. She watches from the window, but her husband doesnt leave the building.

She grabs her coat and, calm and deliberate, heads down to the familiar flat on the ground floor.

Her finger hovers over the bell. She doesnt rehearse any accusationsshe just presses and waits.

The door swings open almost instantly, as if theyve been waiting for her. Emma stands there in a short silk dressing gown, a glass in hand, her smile fading as she sees Alice.

And behind her, in the brightly lit hallway, Alice spots William. Shirtless. Hair damp from a shower. Settled in as though he belongs.

Their gazes lock. William flinches, starts to speakthen stops dead. Emma glances between them but shows no embarrassment, no guilt. She merely gives a slow, indifferent shrug.

Alice turns and walks back up the stairs. Behind her, a frenzied shuffle and Williams urgent: Alice, wait, let me explain But she doesn’t let him in that night.

The next morning, Patricia knocks. Alice isnt remotely surprised. Of courseher sons called his mother first, no doubt with his own version of events.

Alice dear, why are you being so childish? her mother-in-law settles at the kitchen table. Men are like children. They need to feel important, heroic. That neighbour of yours, she was just well, in need of a hand. Will simply couldnt turn her away.
Oh, he couldnt turn away from her bedroom, you mean?

Patricia winces, as if Alice has sworn at her.

Dont twist it. Wills a kind boy. He pities people, thats all. Not a crime, is it? He got a little carried away, perhaps. It happens. My late husband, well The most important thing is the family. You can work through it if youre wise. Dont let a trifle ruin your life, Alice.

Alice looks at this woman and sees everything she fears becoming herself. Accommodating. Endlessly patient. Willing to ignore anything, just to keep up a semblance of family.

Thank you for coming, Patricia. But I need some time alone.

Her mother-in-law leaves, offended, muttering on her way out about this generation, unable to forgive.

William returns that evening, skulking around as if hes the family cat up to mischief, searching Alices expression, trying to take her hand.

Alice, its not what you think. She just needed help with a tap, and then we started talking, and shes so unhappy, so alone
You had no clothes on.
I spilt water on myself while fixing the tap! She lent me a shirt, and you walked in at just that moment

Alice observes him and wonders how she never noticed this flaw before. William cant lieeach word rings false, each gesture betrays him.

Well, even if say something happened. It means nothing! I love you. Shes just a distraction. A silly fling. Men are weak sometimes.

He sits on the sofa, attempting an embrace.

Lets just forget it, please? I promise, its over. Shes already getting on my nerves anyway, always needing something

And thats when Alice finally understands. It isnt guiltits fear. Not fear of losing her, but fear of losing his comfort, of ending up with a woman who truly needs him, not just lets him play the knight when it suits.

Im filing for divorce, she says, as casually as commenting on the weather.
What? Alice, have you lost your mind? Over one mistake?!

She stands, fetches her overnight bag from the bedroom, and begins gathering her documents.

Theyre divorced within two months. William moves in with Emma, who welcomes him with open armsat first. Soon enough, for him, the embraces are replaced by lists: fix this, buy that, pay this bill, sort this out, help with that.

Alice hears about it now and then from mutual friends. She nods, without a hint of satisfaction. Everyone, she thinks, gets the life theyve earned.

She rents a tiny flat on the far side of town. Each morning, she enjoys her coffee in silence. Nobody asks for the garage keys. Nobody pops out for a moment and returns reeking of someone elses perfume. Nobody expects her to be endlessly patient and accommodating.

Its oddshed thought it would hurt. That shed be flattened by loneliness, regret. But instead, something else arrives: a sense of relief. As if shes shrugged off a heavy coat shed worn for years without noticing how much it weighed.

For the first time, Alice belongs only to herself. And thats better than any stability shes ever known.

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“How Wonderful This Peace Is…” Whispered Linda. She loved her quiet morning coffee, sipping in silence while John was still asleep and dawn was just breaking outside. In those moments, she felt everything was just right. Job—secure. Flat—cosy. Husband—dependable. What more could happiness require? She never envied friends with jealous husbands and constant rows over trivialities. John was never jealous or dramatic. He didn’t check her phone. Didn’t demand reports about her every move. Just being there was enough. “Linda, have you seen my garage keys?” John shuffled into the kitchen, hair tousled from sleep. “On the shelf by the door. Off to help the neighbour again?” “Paul asked me to take a look at his car. Carburettor’s acting up.” She nodded, pouring him coffee. It was so familiar. John was always helping someone. Colleagues with house moves, mates with DIY, neighbours with anything really. “My knight,” she thought fondly. The sort of man who couldn’t just walk past someone’s troubles. That’s what captured her heart on their first date—when John stopped to help an elderly lady carry her shopping. Anyone else might have walked on, but not John. A new neighbour moved in downstairs about three months ago. Linda hadn’t paid much attention at first. People came and went in flats, after all. But Olivia—her name was Olivia—was hard not to notice. Laughter echoing in the stairwell. Heels clicking any hour of the day. And that habit of talking on the phone so loudly the whole building could hear. “Can you believe it—he brought me loads of groceries today! All on his own, didn’t even need to ask!” Olivia’s voice carried through the corridor. Linda met her near the postboxes and offered a polite smile. Olivia positively glowed—the look of a woman head over heels. “New boyfriend?” Linda asked out of courtesy. “Not exactly new,” Olivia winked slyly. “But ever so thoughtful. Sorts out every little thing. Leaky tap—fixed. Socket sparking—sorted. He even helps with my bills! “You’re lucky.” “More than lucky! Yes, he’s married. But that’s just paperwork, right? What matters is how happy he is with me.” Linda headed upstairs with a strange uncomfortable feeling—not about anyone else’s morals, but at something she couldn’t quite identify. Over the next weeks, these run-ins continued. Olivia seemed to find her on purpose, eager to share more delighted stories. “He’s so attentive! Always asks how I am, if I need anything…” “He brought me medicine when I was ill yesterday. Searched for a late-night chemist himself!” “He always says the most important thing is to feel needed. That it’s his life’s purpose—to help…” That phrase jolted Linda. “To feel needed is his life’s purpose.” John used to say that exact thing—word for word. She remembered it from their anniversary, as he explained why he’d again stayed late helping a friend’s mum with her garden. Coincidence. Just coincidence, she assured herself. There must be lots of men with a tendency to ‘rescue’. But the little details kept stacking up. Bringing groceries unprompted—just like John. Always fixing things with his own hands. Linda pushed the thoughts away. Silly. Paranoid. Surely she couldn’t suspect her husband over the ramblings of a near-stranger. Then John started to change. Not suddenly, but gradually. Quick “popping out for a minute” would mean an hour gone. He took his phone everywhere, even to the bathroom. Short, sharp answers to simple questions. “Where are you off to?” “Got errands.” “What errands?” “Linda, why the interrogation?” Yet he seemed… happy. Almost fulfilled, as if getting his “fix” of being needed elsewhere… One evening, he went out again. “A colleague needs help sorting some paperwork.” “At nine at night?” “He works days—there’s no other time.” Linda didn’t argue. She watched out the window, but he never left the building. She shrugged on a jacket and calmly, unhurriedly, went downstairs to the familiar door on the first floor. Her finger hovered, then pressed the bell. Linda didn’t rehearse what she’d say. She just waited. The door flew open almost instantly, as if expected. Olivia stood there in a short silk dressing gown, holding a wine glass, and her smile slowly faded as she recognised her visitor. Behind her, in the light of the hallway, Linda saw John. Shirtless. Damp hair from a shower. Utterly at home in someone else’s flat. Their eyes locked. John froze mid-explanation, speechless. Olivia switched her glance between them but didn’t panic or fidget. She just shrugged with lazy indifference. Linda turned and walked upstairs. Behind her came a hurried rustle—John’s voice: “Linda, wait, let me explain…” But Linda didn’t let him in that night. …The next morning, Mrs Green arrived. Linda wasn’t surprised; of course John had called his mum and told his side. “Linda, darling, don’t be so childish!” Mrs Green settled at the kitchen table. “Men are like boys, they need to feel heroic. That neighbour of yours—she just needed help. Johnny couldn’t refuse.” “He couldn’t refuse her bedroom either, is that it?” Mrs Green wrinkled her nose as if Linda said something vulgar. “No need to twist things. John’s a good boy. He cares for people. Not a crime, is it? Well, he got carried away. It happens. My late husband… Well, never mind. The important thing is family. You’re smart, Linda. Don’t throw it all away over nonsense.” Linda looked at this woman and saw everything she never wanted to become: agreeable, long-suffering, ready to ignore anything just to preserve the illusion of family. “Thank you for coming, Mrs Green. But I need time alone.” Her mother-in-law left in a huff, muttering about “young people these days and their inability to forgive.” John returned that evening, creeping around the flat like a guilty cat, trying to catch her eye, reaching for her hand. “It’s not what you think, Linda. She only asked for help with her tap, then we got talking, she’s so sad, so lonely…” “You weren’t wearing any clothes.” “I… I spilt water on myself! While fixing her tap! She lent me her t-shirt and then you walked in…” Linda marvelled she’d never noticed this before—John was a terrible liar. Every word rang false, every gesture screamed panic. “Look, even if… suppose… say, something happened. Doesn’t mean anything! I love you. She’s just… a side thing. Moment of madness. Men’s weakness.” He sat beside her on the sofa, trying to hug her. “Let’s forget it ever happened. I swear, it’s over. Honestly, she’s more hassle than she’s worth, always needs something, always complaining…” And that’s when Linda finally understood. This wasn’t guilt. It was fear—of losing his comfort, of being left with a woman who truly needed him, rather than one who just let him “play knight” to a schedule. “I’m filing for divorce,” she said simply, like saying, “I’ve switched off the iron.” “What? Linda, are you mad? Over one mistake?!” She stood up and went to the bedroom. Pulled out an overnight bag. Started packing documents. …The divorce was done within two months. John moved in with Olivia, who welcomed him with open arms—briefly. Soon the open arms turned into lists: Fix. Buy. Pay. Sort. Help. Linda heard about this through mutual friends. She nodded without bitterness. Everyone gets what they deserve. She rented a tiny flat clear across the city. Every morning she drank her coffee in peace—no one asked where the garage keys were, no one popped out “for a minute” and returned smelling of someone else’s perfume. No one urged her to swallow pride and be “the bigger person.” Strange thing: she’d expected pain—a crushing loneliness, regret. Instead, she felt something else—a lightness, as if she’d taken off a heavy coat she’d worn for years without noticing its weight. For the first time, Linda belonged only to herself. And it was better than any so-called stability…