Well, this is a surprise, my wife muttered under her breath as she stepped into the train compartment and found me sitting with another woman.
Andrew, have you seen my blue scarf? The one you gave me last Christmas? Emma rummaged through the wardrobe, pretending to be fully absorbed in her search.
Check the top shelf, behind the boxes, I called from the kitchen. You put it there after your last business trip.
Emma stiffened. There was an odd note in my voiceor was she imagining it? After fifteen years of marriage, wed learned to pick up on the slightest shifts in each others tone. But wed also become experts at pretending not to notice.
Found it! she exclaimed a moment later, forcing cheer into her voice. Right where you said. Youve got an uncanny memory for these things.
Comes with the job, I said with a half-smile, walking in with two mugs of coffee. Long-haul lorry drivers dont last long without a sharp memory. Routes, turns, stopsit all has to stick.
*And all the excuses,* Emma added silently, though outwardly she kept up the act.
Guess what? Theyre sending me to Manchesterright before Christmas! The bosses insist I go in person to wrap up the annual report before the holidays.
She busied herself packing, careful not to meet my eyes. There was no annual report, of course. There was Daniel, the regional manager from Bristol, whom shed met three years ago at a company event. Since then, theyd arranged «business trips» every few months.
What a coincidence, I said, perching on the edge of the bed and handing her a mug. Ive got a delivery to Liverpoolurgent cargo, needs to be there by the 29th.
Emma nearly smiled. She knew there was no urgent cargo. There was only the phone Id left on the kitchen counter three months ago, the messages from a woman named Sophie, a dispatcher from Liverpool, the photos shed glimpsed before sliding it back into place. Shed known exactly where I really went on those «Liverpool routes.»
How long will you be away? I asked casually.
Should be back by the 29th, she said. Got to get everything ready for Christmas. You?
Samehoping to wrap it up by then.
We looked at each other and smiled. Both lying. Emma had a hotel booked in Manchester until the 30th. Id planned to spend those days with Sophie at her cottage.
That evening, we sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea and discussing holiday plans with practiced ease. Years of marriage had perfected the illusion of domestic bliss.
Should we invite your parents? Emma suggested.
Theyre visiting my sister in Brighton, I said.
Mine are off to see my brother in Edinburghnew baby.
Relief settled between us. Fewer lies to keep straight.
The train compartment was warm and cosy. Emma settled by the window with a book and a blanket. Ten minutes to departure. Outside, hurried passengers darted past, snippets of conversation and station announcements floating in.
Excuse me, is this your bag? A womans voice carried in from the corridor. It was left near the carriage door.
No, mines with me, came a mans replyone that sent a jolt through Emma. She knew that voice. Slowly, she looked up just as the compartment door slid open.
There I stood. Next to me, a striking woman in a tailored beige coatSophie, unmistakably. More beautiful in person: tall, elegant, with auburn waves and sharp green eyes.
For a heartbeat, the three of us just stared. Time stretched.
Fancy meeting you here, Emma said coolly, though her pulse hammered. Thought you were driving to Liverpool?
Iuh My gaze darted between her and Sophie. Shock, guilt, panic flickered across my face. Last-minute route change.
Funny, Emma mused. I was sure you had urgent cargo to deliver.
Just then, a tall man in an expensive navy overcoat leaned in.
Sorry Im late, he said. Emma, the meeting ran over
Now it was my turn to stiffen. I knew exactly who he was.
Daniel, the newcomer introduced himself, eyeing the awkward scene. And you are?
My husband, Andrew, Emma said smoothly. And his colleague?
Sophie, the redhead murmured.
A conductor appeared. Tickets, please. Theres been a mix-up with seating.
All four of us handed ours over. She frowned.
Oddyouve all been booked for the same seats. System glitch before the holidays. Ill have to relocate some of you.
No need, Emma cut in firmly. Lets all stay. Weve got plenty to talk about. Unless anyone objects?
She looked at me. Something like relief flashed in my eyes.
Actually, I agreed, might as well. Since fates shoved us together.
Daniel and Sophie exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.
The conductor left. The train lurched forward. Four people, tangled in lies and secret rendezvous, sat in silence.
Well, Emma leaned back. Four hours ahead of us. Might as well talk honestly.
The first minutes were agony. Wheels clacked. Daniel pretended to check emails. Sophie twisted a pendant nervously. I stared out at the blur of winter fields. Emma turned book pages without reading.
How long? she finally asked Sophie.
Four years, she admitted softly. His lorry broke down near Liverpool. I was the dispatcher.
And you? I asked Daniel.
Three years. Corporate event in Manchester.
Emma almost laughed. So we both started looking elsewhere at the same time.
What were you looking for? Daniel asked. You two seem fine.
Fine, I echoed. Exactly that. Clockwork. Wake up, work, eat, sleep. Year after year.
I missed feeling something, Emma confessed. We used to talk for hours. Then it was just bills and weekend plans.
I missed being asked how my day was, I added. Emma never worried if I was late.
Because I knew where you really were, she cut in. I saw Sophies texts three months ago.
And I found the Manchester hotel receipt in your bag, I countered. Daniels photos on your phone.
You both knew? Sophie blurted.
What was there to say? Emma shrugged. Darling, I know youre cheating, but dont worryso am I?
Easier to pretend, I admitted. We had our routines. Separate little joys
Little joys. Emmas smile was sad. What about the big ones? The house in the Cotswolds we talked about? The dog? Travelling together?
I remember, I said quietly. Every time I pass those country cottages, I think of it.
And I save listings, she admitted. Just picturing us there.
Daniel and Sophie shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like intruders.
Andrew and I never discussed the future, Sophie said. Only the present.
Same with Emma and me, Daniel admitted. Maybe because we knew it wouldnt last.
Does ours? Emma asked suddenly, looking at me. A future, I mean.
I stared out the window a long moment before answering.
Remember how we met? You missed the last train, and I offered a lift in that beat-up Focus.
She smiled. It broke down halfway. We sat on the kerb for hours, talking about everything.
Exactly. We used to talk about everything. Then we just stopped.
Maybe its not too late to start again, she whispered.
The train slowed. Manchesters lights glowed beyond the glass.
I should go, Daniel stood abruptly. Emma I think its best if we dont meet again.
Same, Sophie said quietly. Andrew, weve all gone too far.
On the platform, Emma and I stood silently, watching them disappear into the crowd. Suitcases rumbled past; announcements blared.
Shall we go home? I finally asked.
What about your cargo in Manchester?
There isnt any. Just like your annual report.
I know. She took my hand. Theres a house for sale near Oxford. Two floors, garden. Room for a dog
Big one? I grinned.
Enormous. And a garage for your lorry.
We boarded the next train to London. Talkedproperly, like we hadnt in years. About stupid mistakes. About being too scared to lose what we still had. About how much wed actually missed each other.
Six months later, we bought that house. Got a Labrador. Made time for weekends away. Emma started meeting me after long hauls with home-cooked meals. I learned to ask about her day.
We realised those fifteen years had made us more than spouseswe were family. The kind who could forgive, understand, and start over. That mattered more than any fleeting thrill.
And that strange, seemingly pointless encounter on the train became our storyone wed recall sometimes, sitting on our porch at dusk. A story about how chance helped us find each other again, and how the most important things were right in front of us all along. We just had to remember to look.
