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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2180070-illicit-affair-chapter-4
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Romance/Love · #2180070
What about the post-it note?
The slow grinding of the elevator gears rings in my head as the doors open. I gulp in air desperately trying to centre myself, I feel uneasy, light headed. I need to stop, I need to calm down, he will see right through me if I don’t.
The doors open. I keep my hand firmly around the post-it note in my pocket. I fear if I release my grip I might lose the note, and if I lose it that means it will get found and I can’t let that happen.
I squeeze my eyes shut wishing I was elsewhere, like in the arms of my lover. No,
I can’t think that right now, having a love affair is what got me into this mess, into the emotional torture I’m going through. It’s not just the guilt of what I’m doing to my husband, to the man I loved enough to marry, but it’s the fact that I would lose Henry and that thought alone stings.
My eyes fling open when I hear laughter in the distance.
Jack isn’t stood in front of the doors, stern-faced and mad accusing me of anything like I imagined. It’s his laughter I hear echoing up and down the hallway.
I step out of the elevator and walk down the corridor readying myself to turn the corner and greet my husband as a loving wife should.
I grasp the post-it note in my pocket, it’s still there. I’m desperately searching my mind for ways to get rid of it, maybe if I wish hard enough it will disappear.
I remember there’s a bin just around the corner, but that would mean throwing it away meters in front of Jack, but this is my only option. I hold my breath as I turn the corner.
Scrunching up the note I drop it in the bin as I pass by, just as my husband turns to face me.
I keep striding forward, moving towards him, his arms are open wide, his smile gets bigger the closer I get.
I swallow the guilt and push away the thought that I want it to be Henry waiting for me to finish work with his arms open wide.
I walk into his warm embrace, he smells like aftershave, a rare occurrence. I don’t know when, but one day he stopped smelling like home, he stopped being my comfort, my safe haven, this was long before Henry. I wrap my arms around him and hold the cuddle for a second longer than I need, just to be on the safe side.
“What are you doing here?” I try to sound uplifting but my voice wavers.
“I finished early and I thought I would surprise you," he kisses my head. He’s lying.
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