“I gave you to her myself, with my own hands. And she didn’t refuse—she took you.”
“Sarah, hello. Why the urgent call? Couldn’t it have waited?” Emily asked, slipping off her blazer as she stepped into the flat.
“Not a phone conversation. Come to the kitchen.” Sarah switched off the hall light and followed her friend.
“Intriguing. Out with it, then.” Emily sat at the table, folding her hands like a dutiful student waiting for an explanation.
Sarah set an opened bottle of red wine and two glasses on the table.
“Blimey! That serious, is it? I’m all ears,” Emily said.
Sarah poured the wine and sat opposite her.
“To relax and understand each other,” she declared theatrically, raising her glass and taking a sip.
Emily lifted her own glass but didn’t drink, waiting for Sarah to begin.
“I’m lost. Completely head over heels, living in a dream. I rush to bed just so morning comes faster. I never thought it could feel like this. I loved Daniel, but not like this. And now…—” Sarah drained her glass in one go.
“Sympathy, then. Is that why you called? To share the news?” Emily set her glass down and stood.
“Sit.” Sarah tugged her back into the chair.
“What about Daniel?” Emily asked, slumping onto the seat.
“What *about* Daniel? We’ve been together seven years. Everything’s fine. Then I met James and—I’m gone.” Sarah sighed. “Judging me? Have you ever loved like this? No? Then don’t.” Her tone turned sharp. “I called you to talk about Daniel.”
“Suppose I’ll drink, then.” Emily took several gulps, nodding approvingly at the glass.
“You fancied my husband. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you looked at him.” Sarah tapped her nails on the tabletop.
She’d been circling the point, unsure how to say it outright.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emily snorted.
Sarah shrugged.
“I’m not jealous, mind you. If anything, it’s better. I’ve decided to leave Daniel, but I can’t bring myself to tell him. I pity him.”
“You didn’t pity him when you cheated, but telling him’s too much? Doesn’t add up, does it?” Emily took another sip.
“What do you know? He’s kind. I shout, I snap, I’ve worn him down, and he just takes it. He *knows* and says nothing. He doesn’t deserve this. Understand?”
“No. Explain,” Emily pressed.
Sarah refilled her glass.
“I could say, ‘I don’t love you, I’m leaving, forgive me.’ He’d let me go. But what happens to him? Men fall apart when they’re dumped. Their self-worth crumbles. He might drink, give up, do something worse. I can’t do that to him. Clear now?”
“And I’m involved how?”
Sarah rolled her eyes at her friend’s denseness.
“You like him. Maybe even love him—unrequited.” Sarah studied Emily, who looked away. “I’d rest easier if he were with you, not some—”
“Oh. I see. You want me to comfort Daniel while you’re off with your lover? You’re barking mad. He’s not a hand-me-down! ‘Had my fun, now here, you take him—’” Emily downed her wine, grimaced, and wiped her mouth.
“Cheers for the compliment. Didn’t know I topped some tart. No, this is daft. Find someone else to palm your husband off on. Have you even asked *him*? Does he want me?” Emily nervously twisted the empty glass by its stem.
“That’s up to you.” Sarah leaned across the table.
“You’ve lost the plot. Need therapy.” Emily flushed with indignation.
“No cure for love. And yes, I’ve lost my head,” Sarah said airily.
“And if this fling of yours fizzles? What then? Want Daniel back? ‘Thanks for keeping him warm, now hand him over’?” Emily’s irritation grew.
“I can’t think ahead. All I know is—I’ll die without him.” Sarah slumped back, displeased with the turn of the conversation.
Emily stayed silent. What could she say? They drank. The idea whirled in Emily’s mind. But then—why *shouldn’t* Daniel be with her? She cared for him.
“Help me. Just be there for him. Distract him. Take him to bed if you like. Need instructions?” Sarah’s gaze drifted past Emily, vacant.
“This is mental. Sitting here, drinking, and a wife offers her mate her husband. Too many dramas? Reminds me of *Gaslight*. How’d that end? ‘If I can’t have you, no one will.’ A shot, silence… How’d you even think of this?”
“Don’t shout.” Sarah pressed fingers to her temples. “Just a suggestion. Don’t want to? Fine. Let him drink himself to ruin.” She lifted her glass, closed her eyes.
Emily watched, mesmerized, as Sarah swallowed, the pulse in her throat visible.
“I just want him happy, like me. If we can’t be happy together, at least apart. And I want him in safe hands. *Yours*,” Sarah said, setting down her empty glass.
“Arguing, girls? Hope it’s not about me. Tsk, drinking,” Daniel’s voice cut in.
Both turned. He stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling.
“Finally. Coat off, wash up, dinner’s ready. We were just discussing a film,” Sarah said breezily, rising to light the stove.
Daniel returned from the washroom.
“Where’s my glass?” He took Sarah’s seat.
“Later. You’ll drive Emily home? It’s late.” Sarah shot Emily a pointed look.
“I’ll call a cab,” Emily said hastily, missing the hint.
“No need. I’ll take you,” Daniel said, focused on the plate of roast and potatoes Sarah set before him.
“Step outside—need to tell you something.” Sarah beckoned Emily with a glance.
Alone, Sarah grabbed Emily’s arm, pulled her close, and hissed in her ear:
“Now it’s on you. When he drops you off, don’t muck about. Invite him in. Say something’s broken, ask him to check… Think of something. Don’t freeze. If he strays first, my cheating won’t gut him as badly.”
Emily gaped.
“You want me to abet your affair? Lie to Daniel? I won’t. It’s rotten.”
“Fine. Stay noble. Don’t sleep with him.” Sarah shoved her away.
***
Emily rode beside Daniel through quiet streets.
“Sorry you had to drive me instead of resting,” she broke the silence.
“Don’t fret. Plenty of time for that. Why the drinking? Sarah’s been cagey lately. Something wrong? She’s not herself—snapping, laughing hysterically, crying over nothing. Can’t believe she didn’t tell you.” Daniel glanced at her.
“Just girl talk.”
“Women’s gossip. You’re a terrible liar. And I’m neither blind nor deaf.”
Emily fidgeted.
“Listen, would it be cheeky to ask you to check my kitchen tap? It’s dripping. Afraid I’ll flood the neighbours.”
“Now?” He paused. “Alright, I’ll look.” He nodded, thoughtful.
They rode the lift up to her floor, avoiding each other’s eyes.
“Right, show me,” Daniel said, toeing off his shoes in the hall.
“Kitchen.” Emily led the way. “Dripping underneath.” She opened the cupboard under the sink.
Daniel nudged her aside, peered in.
“Bone-dry.”
“Really? Last night I had to put a bowl under it.” Emily’s face burned. *Nice one, Sarah.*
“Got any tools?”
She returned with a small toolbox.
“My dad’s.”
“Grand.” Daniel rummaged through it.
Emily retreated to the lounge, cursing Sarah. Fifteen minutes later, Daniel declared the tap needed replacing.
“Washers are shot, and it’s ancient. Best buy new.” Nothing she didn’t know—she’d called a plumber six months prior.
“Right. Tomorrow I’ll buy the parts, bring my tools, fit it in the evening.”
“Tea?” Emily jumped up, relieved he hadn’t caught her lie.
“Nah. Best be off.”
They stood close, a hand’s breadth apart. *Why did she ever marry him?* Emily thought. *I’d never cheat. My heart’s racing…* She pressed a palm to her chest. *I fancy him so much… We’ve never been alone. Doesn’t he feel it?*
Daniel saw the struggle in her eyes. *She’s lovely. Funny. Nervous. Was Sarah right? Does she fancy meAs Lera watched the sunrise alone, she finally understood that love could never be forced or traded—it had to be freely given, and sometimes, freely let go.
