Home 09:00

Alex stood in the hallway, glimpsing the familiar contours of their home through the half-open door. The soft click of the lock was a promise of safety he hadn’t felt in days. Weeks, months. His heart thudded under his ribs as he carried his overnight bag, heavy with the unsaid, the unspoken, the ache he could feel in his bones. 

He paused, inhaling the scent of cedar that clung to the air. This was their sanctuary, a place where laughter once rang off the walls. But today, the echoes felt hollow. Katherine's weight on him was a reminder of every moment he'd spent away, both in body and in spirit.

“Katherine?” His voice was gentle, a caress in the quiet.

Silence answered him first. Then, beneath the hush, he heard it: the stifled sob that travelled through the house like a wounded bird calling for comfort. His hand found the doorknob; every step toward her felt like tracing a wound too deep to heal.   

The lounge was half-dark, with curtains half-drawn to keep the world out. There, on the far end of the sofa, lay Katherine, curled into herself, as if she could fold her sorrow into a smaller space. Her shoulders trembled with each breath, her face hidden in the embrace of the cushion.

He dropped the bag and walked over to her slowly, sank to his knees beside her. The soft thud was the only prelude to the storm he saw in her tear-stained cheeks and quivering lips.

“He’s went,” she whispered, voice ragged. “He just left.”

Alex’s chest tightened. He reached for her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers, offering warmth without words.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m with you.”

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t let go.

When Katherine finally lifted her head, her eyes, once lively and bright, were rimmed with sorrow. Mascara had melted into dark rivulets on her cheeks; her lips were pale and still.

She took a deep breath. “No reason. No goodbye. Just went”

He brushed her hair back, carefully, lovingly. "You didn't deserve that," he murmured.  

“You had her,” she added after a pause. At least she looked at you like you mattered.”

His jaw tightened.  

“That wasn’t… ” 

“She’s beautiful,” Katherine said, cutting him off. “Young. Full of want. I heard her, Alex. I heard everything.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “I thought… maybe this time I’d feel powerful. But I just felt empty.” Her gaze drifted toward Alex, as though questioning if he could fill the void. “Not like you do.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Two Days Later

Morning light filtered through the blinds as Katherine moved about the kitchen preparing breakfast. Alex hovered near the doorway, watching, waiting for a gesture that might reassure him she was healing. She was quieter, more composed, but still a shadow of the woman he knew.

Her phone vibrated against the worktop. Without a word, she pressed ignore.

It rang again. 

Alex stepped forward. “I’ll get it.” His eyes were warm with concern as he picked up the handset. “Alex Masters,” he said softly, switching onto speaker mode. “Katherine’s… occupied. Can I take a message?”

A woman’s voice, cold and clipped, crackled through the speaker. “Ask the bitch was worth it.”

Alex’s heart sank. “Who is this?”

The voice spat venom. “She ruined my marriage. She destroyed my home. I’ll make her pay.”

Click.

He lowered the phone, the weight of the unknown pressing on him. Katherine stopped, stood silent, her face pale but resolute. No tears this time, just a quiet determination that frightened him more than her sobs.

Katherine’s breath caught at the weight of the accusation, stunned by the woman’s furious outburst. “I never knew he was married,” she whispered, her voice soft and accepting, as if confiding a secret in the dark.

He drew her into a gentle embrace. “I’m here.”

She rested her head against his chest. No words were needed now. Safety had returned in the warmth of his arms.

They sat at the kitchen table, steam steadily rising from two mugs of tea. Alex had learned that patience wasn’t passive; it was an act of devotion. So he waited for her to speak, waited until her shoulders no longer trembled when she sighed.

Finally, she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze. “Did you… know?”

He nodded. “Lucy mentioned he was married.”

Her eyes widened. “No. He told me he was divorced.”

Behind her hurt, Alex saw something else flicker, confusion, perhaps relief that the betrayal wasn’t hers alone. He touched her knuckles. “I believe you.”

Tears pooled again, but they were softer this time, carried by trust.

“I wasn’t enough,” she confessed, voice small.

He shook his head. “You are more than enough.”

She let her fingers curl around his. Contact. Connection. The first step of rebuilding.

Three Weeks Later

They arrived at the cottage—a place chosen by Katherine. A quaint brick-and-timber refuge two hours from the city’s pulse. Far from prying eyes, far from memories that whispered too loudly.

She led him inside in silence, her bag tucked over her shoulder like a shield. The air was cool, carrying the tang of moss and earth. Light filtered through ivy-framed windows, casting gentle patterns on the stone hearth of the fireplace.

Alex set down their bags. “I like it,” he said softly.

She exhaled, a small, hopeful sound. “I need this.”

He nodded, respecting her space. Together, they unpacked: simple linens, soft cotton, comfort without expectation. He laid fresh flowers on the table—peonies, her favourite—bright pink against muted walls.

Evening came, and with it a hush that felt sacred. Katherine lit a fire. Flames danced against her face, illuminating lines of contemplation and vulnerability. She sat beside him, inches apart, and for a long moment, neither spoke.

Then he whispered, “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

She turned to him, eyes glistening. “I’m afraid.”

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. “I’ll be here. No matter what.”

She leaned in until her forehead touched his. “Teach me to trust again.”

And so the nights passed—not in frantic attempts to reclaim what was lost, but in quiet rediscovery: reading books by the fire, slow walks under stars, their laughter threading through the trees.

One night, Katherine stood by the window, gazing at the moon’s reflection on the lake beyond. Alex joined her, silent, offering his presence.

“I’m ready,” she said, voice firm.

He turned to her, love shining in his eyes. “Only if you are.”

She nodded. Then, without ceremony, she slipped from her clothes, nothing ornate, just the fabric that had become her armour and now fell away in soft surrender.

Alex’s breath caught. He moved inches closer, not to claim or conquer, but to hold, to honour.

Her skin glowed in the firelight, each contour a testament to resilience. He touched her shoulder, then traced the line of her collarbone. No rush. No script.

She guided his hand, teaching him the map of her body as if it were sacred ground. Each touch was a vow: acceptance without pretence, tenderness without demand.

When they came together, it was not an escape but a celebration. His love met her vulnerability, weaving them into a shared rhythm. Moans were gentle, breaths deliberate, two hearts learning a new song.

Morning Light

They awoke entwined, sunrise painting gold across her hair and his face. Alex brushed a kiss against her temple. She half-smiled, eyes still heavy with slumber and trust.

Breakfast was coffee and fresh bread. No words about the past—only plans for the day: a walk to the old stone bridge, collecting wildflowers, sharing stories of who they were before the hurt.

With every step, they rebuilt: each laugh, each touch, each whispered promise a brick in their renewed foundation. Kindness folded into routine: offering the last croissant, drawing the bath just right, remembering each small relief.

A New Chapter

As they packed to return home, Katherine placed a hand on the car’s door. She looked at Alex, eyes clear and steady.

“Thank you,” she said. “For waiting.”

He took her hand, lacing their fingers. “Thank you for trusting.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. Together, they drove away, leaving behind the cottage’s solitude and carrying forward the quiet strength they had found.

In the car’s rereview mirror, the ivy-covered walls receded. But the fire they had kindled in each other burned brightly—an unspoken promise that love, tender and accepting, could heal even the deepest wounds.