**Two Nights and One Day**
Emily kept glancing at the clock. Time crawled like a snail—slow and sticky. Another hour till the end of the workday.
*”Why do you keep checking the time? In a rush?”* asked Marian, the head accountant.
*”No, but—”*
*”A man then? At your age, only a man makes a woman wish the hours away. At mine, we pray time would stand still.”* Marian sighed. *”Go on then. You’re no use to me distracted.”*
*”Thanks!”* Emily hurriedly closed the program on her screen.
*”Love him, do you?”* Marian asked with sad curiosity.
*”I do.”* Emily met her boss’s gaze squarely.
Their desks sat at an angle—too close for comfort in the cramped office. It felt like being under a microscope, every move watched.
*”Then why aren’t you married? He won’t ask?”* Marian removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. *”Ah. Married already. Kids too, I suppose. Classic. Hid the truth at first, then once you were hooked, he swore he’d leave when the children were older. Am I right?”*
*”How did you—?”* Emily stared.
*”I was young once. Think you’re the first to fall for that line? If he hasn’t left by now, love, he never will. Cut your losses. Walk away.”*
*”But I—”*
*”When he tires of you—or God forbid, his wife finds out—it’ll hurt worse. Spare yourself the pain. Trust me. And don’t poison your karma.”* Marian slid her glasses back on, stern once more. *”Think on it. And don’t be late Monday.”*
As the door shut behind Emily, Marian sighed. *”Thinks she’s in love…”*
Emily bolted down the stairs, waved at the security guard, and burst into the golden May sunshine. She spotted Simon’s car instantly.
*”Finally. Felt like I was sat here forever, sticking out like a sore thumb,”* he grumbled as she slid in.
They sped out of London, turning onto narrow country lanes twisting between tall oaks. Emily watched the road unwind, wishing they could drive forever—just the two of them.
*”Here we are,”* Simon said cheerfully as a cottage came into view.
*”You have a place here?”*
*”A mate’s. His wife’s due any day—won’t be visiting soon. So, it’s ours for the weekend.”*
*”And your wife? She’s fine with you vanishing?”*
Simon parked by a wooden gate. *”We’ve got two nights and a whole day.”* He leaned in to kiss her.
*Only two nights*, Emily thought bleakly. *Then back to stolen moments…*
Inside, the cottage was simple—dried flowers in a vase, gingham curtains, a patchwork quilt. It smelled of lavender and woodsmoke, like her grandmother’s home.
*”I wish we could stay forever,”* she whispered later, her head on Simon’s shoulder. *”Just us.”*
*”Mmm,”* he mumbled sleepily.
She woke first, listening to the quiet. *Missing geraniums on the sill*, she thought. *And a crocheted tablecloth with tassels.*
A phone buzzed. Simon fumbled for his jeans. *”Yeah… No, just popped inside for water… Later.”* He tossed the phone aside.
Emily clenched her jaw. Marian was right. One more night, then back to scraps of affection.
It rang again.
*”Answer it,”* she said.
Simon pulled her close instead, kissing her until the phone silenced—then rang once more.
*”Answer it.”* She pushed free.
With a sigh, he grabbed the phone. She slipped on his shirt and stepped outside. Dawn birdsong, the distant knock of a woodpecker. She memorized it—this might never come again.
*”There you are.”* Simon hugged her from behind, warm through the cotton. She shut her eyes, savoring it—until his phone chimed inside. The spell broke as he left.
Marian’s words echoed: *”Being the mistress grows old fast. Crumbs from his table won’t satisfy you forever. Walk away. Or it’ll hurt worse.”*
Emily dressed quickly, slung her bag over her shoulder, and stepped out.
*”Where are you going? I turned it off—she won’t call again,”* Simon said.
*”Home.”*
*”I’ll drive you.”*
*”Don’t bother.”* She shut the door and hurried down the lane.
Had they driven far from the main road? Maybe she’d hitch a ride. She glanced back—empty. The cottages vanished behind trees. Her heels sank into mud.
A cloud darkened the sky. Rain fell, cold and sudden. No umbrella. She cursed leaving—then cursed Simon for not chasing her.
A car slowed beside her. *”Need a lift?”*
Exhausted, she climbed in. The heater hummed.
*”Someone hurt you?”* the driver asked.
She stiffened. *”Stop the car.”*
*”Where’ll you go? It’s miles to the main road. Just sit tight.”*
*”Wife waiting?”* she snapped, then flushed. *”Sorry. That was cruel.”*
*”My daughter’s home alone. Name’s Matthew.”*
*”Emily.”*
As London’s skyline emerged, his phone rang. *”Hey, Mouse. Be home soon.”* He pocketed it. *”Eleven years old. Her mother passed last year.”*
*”I’m sorry,”* Emily whispered.
*”Don’t be. Just… don’t waste time on someone who won’t choose you.”*
They lapsed into silence. At a block of flats, Matthew ducked inside, returning with a girl.
*”You’re all wet!”* she chirped.
*”Got caught in the rain. Your dad rescued me.”*
*”I’m Lily-Anne. But everyone calls me Lily. Your name’s pretty too!”*
When they dropped her off, Emily watched them drive away—father and daughter, easy and whole. The life she wanted.
Inside her flat, she sank onto the sofa, kicked off her soaked shoes, and wept.
Her phone buzzed—Simon. She declined the call. It rang again.
*”Don’t call me. Ever.”* She powered it off.
Monday morning, Marian peered over her glasses. *”Weekend go well?”*
Emily shrugged.
*”You took my advice, then. Left him.”*
*”How did—?”*
*”Lily-Anne mentioned her dad picked up a drenched woman named Emily. They’re my neighbors. I watch her sometimes.”* Marian adjusted her glasses. *”Matthew’s a good man. Give it time.”*
Emily stared at her screen, thoughts tangled—Simon’s silence, Matthew’s kindness, a little girl with a double name.
Maybe this was for the best.
**Lesson learned:** Love shouldn’t be scraps from another’s table. Wait for the whole feast.
