Two Nights and One Day
Kiera kept glancing at the clock. Time crawled like a snail, slow and sticky. A whole hour remained before the end of the workday.
“Always checking the time—are you in a rush?” asked Marianna Vladimirovna, the head accountant.
“No, but—”
“A man, then? At your age, it’s always about a man. At mine, women wish they could stop the clock.” Marianna sighed. “Fine, go on. You’re useless like this anyway.”
“Thank you!” Kiera hurriedly closed the program on her monitor.
“Is it love?” Marianna asked with a knowing sadness.
“It is.” Kiera met her gaze squarely.
Her desk sat at an angle to Kiera’s, and Marianna had a perfect view. The cramped office layout made rearranging impossible, leaving Kiera feeling scrutinised under her watchful eye.
“Then why aren’t you married? He won’t ask?” Marianna removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Ah. He’s married. Kids too? Classic. Hid the truth at first, but by the time he confessed, you were already in too deep. Promised to leave once the kids were older. Right?”
“How did you know?” Kiera stared, wide-eyed.
“I was young once too. Think you’re the first to fall for that? If a man doesn’t leave his family straight away, he never will. Walk away now.”
“But I love him.”
“When he tires of you—or worse, his wife finds out—it’ll hurt far more. Spare yourself the pain. Take it from me. And karma’s no joke.” Marianna adjusted her glasses, stern once more. “Think it over. Don’t be late Monday.”
“Love…” Marianna murmured, shaking her head as the door closed behind Kiera.
Kiera dashed downstairs, waved at the security guard, and burst into the May sunshine. Spotting Steven’s car, she hurried over.
“Finally. Felt like I was parked here forever,” Steven grumbled as she slid into the passenger seat.
He turned the ignition, merged into traffic, and left the city behind.
“Where are we going? Your call made no sense,” Kiera asked.
“Surprise.” His glance sent warmth flooding through her.
The car veered onto a narrow country lane winding through dense trees. Kiera watched the road, wishing it stretched forever—just the two of them. Eventually, a cluster of cottages appeared.
“We’re here,” Steven chirped.
“You don’t own a cottage…”
“My mate’s. His wife’s due any day—won’t be using it. It’s ours all weekend.”
“And your wife? She just let you vanish?” Kiera eyed him skeptically.
He parked by a wooden gate. “Two nights and a whole day—just us.” He leaned in to kiss her.
*Two nights. Then back to stolen moments…*
Steven pulled away, unloading bags from the boot. Kiera stepped out, inhaling the earthy scent of grass and leaves—like her grandma’s village.
*Two nights together!* She nearly laughed with disbelief.
“Like it?” Steven grinned, relishing her reaction. “Take this, let’s head in.” He handed her a bag and shouldered a duffel.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Obviously. We’re mates.”
“With your wife?”
“Kiera, don’t ruin this.” He unlocked the gate, nudging her ahead.
Inside, the cottage was hushed, Steven’s voice muffled by the thick silence. “Make yourself at home. I’ll sort the fridge. Sorry, the loo’s outside.”
Dried flowers sat in a vase, gingham oilcloth covered the table, and a plush rug hung over the bed. Modest, homely—like she’d been here forever.
“I’d stay here always,” Kiera whispered that night, curled against Steven. “Just us.”
“Mhm,” he mumbled sleepily.
She woke first, lying still, memorising the quiet. *Needs geraniums on the windowsill…*
A muffled ringtone shattered the calm. Steven fished his phone from his jeans.
“Yeah… No, just grabbing water… Call you later.” He tossed it aside.
Kiera bristled. Marianna was right—after tonight, it’d be back to secrecy…
The phone rang again.
“Answer it,” she insisted.
Instead, he dragged her close, kissing her until it stopped. It rang once more.
“*Answer it*.” She shoved free.
With a sigh, he complied. Kiera pulled on his shirt and stepped outside. Dawn painted the treetops gold; birds sang, a woodpecker tapped. She drank it in, knowing it wouldn’t last.
“There you are.” Steven hugged her from behind, warm through the fabric. She leaned into him, eyes closed—until his phone rang again inside.
The spell broke.
*”The mistress role gets old fast. Crumbs from his table won’t satisfy you forever. Walk away…”* Marianna’s voice echoed in her head.
Kiera dressed swiftly, scanned the room, and grabbed her bag.
“Where are you going? I turned it off,” Steven called as she reached the door.
“Home.”
“I’ll drive you—”
“No.” She shut the door behind her, hurrying down the lane.
How far to the main road? Maybe he’d follow… She glanced back. Empty.
Her heels sank into mud. Rain began, cold and relentless. No umbrella. No Steven. *Good. Let me catch pneumonia.*
A car approached, horn blaring. She stumbled aside.
“Need a lift?” called the driver.
Too cold to refuse, she climbed in. He cranked the heater, warmth seeping into her bones.
“Someone hurt you?” he asked.
She studied the wipers, silent.
“Only someone truly shaken gets in a stranger’s car in the woods.”
“Stop. Let me out.” Trees pressed close; panic rose.
“And go where? The main road’s miles. Woods everywhere. Want trouble?” He slowed.
“Wife waiting?” she sneered. “Or a mistress at the cottage?” Instantly, she regretted it.
“My daughter’s waiting. Shut the door.”
His calm face held no threat. She relented.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. But a lone woman in the woods? Risky.”
“I took my mum to her cottage early. Wanted to get back before my girl woke.”
“How old?”
“Eleven.”
“Where’s her mum?”
“Gone. A year and a half.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wished for death back then. But who’d she have had? You’ll survive this. Only death can’t be undone.” His tone was firm.
Silence fell until the city emerged. His phone rang.
“Awake, Mouse? Be home soon.” He pocketed it. “I’m Max.”
“Kiera.”
At his flat, he ducked inside, returning with a chatty girl—*Marie-Veronica*. Kiera half-listened, stung by Steven’s absence.
“Your name’s pretty,” Kiera said weakly.
“Mum’s idea. Everyone calls me Maisie, though.”
They dropped her home. Max and Maisie waved.
*This* was what she’d wanted—a family, laughter, shared meals… Inside, she crumpled onto the sofa, weeping.
Her phone buzzed. Steven. She declined. It rang again.
“Don’t call. Ever.” She powered off.
Monday, Marianna peered over her glasses. “Good weekend?”
Kiera shrugged.
“You left him. Ran from that cottage.”
“How—?”
“Maisie mentioned her dad drove a soaked woman named Kiera home. They’re my neighbours. I babysit sometimes.” Marianna sighed. “No one warned me at your age. By the time I realised, it was too late to start fresh. Max is a good man.”
Stunned, Kiera said nothing.
“It’ll work out. Give it time.” Marianna straightened her glasses. “Enough chatter—work won’t do itself.”
As screens lit up, Kiera thought of Max, Maisie… and Steven, who hadn’t called back. Maybe it was for the best.
