“Well, this is a surprise,” muttered Emma under her breath as she stepped into the train compartment, only to find her husband sitting opposite another woman.
“James, have you seen my blue scarf? The one you gave me last Christmas?” She rummaged through the wardrobe with exaggerated focus, avoiding eye contact.
“Check the top shelf, behind the shoeboxes,” came James voice from the kitchen. “You stuffed it there after your last… business trip.”
Emma froze. There was something odd in his tonehad she imagined it? After fifteen years of marriage, theyd learned to catch every unspoken note in each others voices. Theyd also mastered the art of pretending not to notice.
“Found it!” she chirped moments later, holding up the scarf. “Right where you said. Youve always had a good memory for these things.”
“Occupational hazard,” James shrugged, stepping into the room with two mugs of tea. “Long-haul drivers need to remember every motorway exit, every layby, every delivery window…”
*And every excuse*, Emma thought, but aloud she said, “Guess what? Theyre sending me to Manchester last-minute. Right before New Years! The boss insists I handle the year-end reports in person.”
She busied herself packing, carefully avoiding his gaze. There were no reports, of coursejust Oliver, the regional manager from Leeds, whom shed met three years ago at a company dinner. Their “business trips” had coincided ever since.
“What a coincidence,” James said, perching on the edge of the bed and handing her a mug. “Ive got a rush job to Liverpool. Client needs delivery by the 29th.”
Emma suppressed a knowing smile. There was no urgent shipmentonly a phone left on the kitchen counter three months prior, buzzing with messages from a woman named Sophie, a logistics coordinator from Liverpool. Photos Emma had glimpsed before sliding the phone back into place.
“How long will you be away?” James asked casually.
“Back by the 29th, I expect,” she lied smoothly. “Got to prep for the holidays. You?”
“Same. Should wrap up by then.”
They exchanged practiced smiles. Both knew the other was lying. Emma had booked a hotel in Manchester until the 30th. James had planned a long weekend with Sophie at her countryside cottage.
That evening, over supper, they discussed holiday plans with practised easeyears of marriage had perfected the illusion of domestic harmony.
“Shall we invite your parents?” Emma suggested.
“Theyre visiting my sister in Brighton,” James said. “Yours?”
“My brother just had a babytheyre off to Edinburgh.”
Relief settled between them. Fewer alibis to maintain.
***
The train compartment was warm, the rhythmic clatter of wheels soothing. Emma settled by the window, unfolding a novel as passengers hurried past outside. Departure was minutes away.
“Excuse me, is this your bag?” A womans voice carried from the corridor. “It was left near the carriage door.”
“No, mines with me,” replied a mana voice Emma knew too well. Her stomach lurched. Slowly, she looked up as the compartment door slid open.
James stood there. Beside him, a striking woman in a camel coatSophie, unmistakably, though more radiant in person: tall, auburn-haired, with sharp green eyes.
Silence stretched.
“Well,” Emma said at last, voice steady despite her hammering pulse, “I thought you were driving to Liverpool?”
“I” James floundered, gaze darting between the women. “Last-minute route change.”
“Odd,” Emma mused. “And here I imagined youd be hauling that *urgent* shipment.”
A man in a tailored navy coat appeared behind them. “Sorry Im late, love. Board meeting ran over” He stopped short, taking in the scene.
“Oliver,” Emma said coolly. “Meet my husband, James. And his… colleague?”
“Sophie,” the redhead murmured.
A conductor peered in. “Tickets, please? Theres been a seating mix-up.”
Four tickets were extended. The conductor frowned. “Thats oddyoure all booked for the same seats. System glitch before holidays, I suppose. Ill have to reseat you.”
“Dont bother,” Emma said firmly. “Well stay. Seems weve got things to discuss.” Her eyes locked onto James. Something like relief flickered in his expression.
“Quite right,” he agreed. “Since fates thrown us together…”
Oliver and Sophie exchanged uneasy glances but didnt protest.
As the train pulled away, four people bound by lies sat in stiff silence.
“So,” Emma leaned back. “Four hours to Manchester. Shall we talk honestly?”
***
The confession spilled out haltingly: James and Sophies four-year affair, sparked when his lorry broke down near Liverpool; Emma and Olivers three-year entanglement, begun at a Manchester conference.
“You never mentioned futures,” Sophie admitted.
“Neither did we,” Oliver said. “Deep down, we knew there wasnt one.”
Emma turned to James. “Is there one for *us*?”
He stared out the window a long moment. “Remember how we met? You missed the last train home. I offered a lift in that beat-up Ford.”
“I remember,” Emma smiled. “It stalled halfway. We sat on the kerb for hours, talking about everything.”
“We forgot how,” James said quietly.
“Maybe its not too late to remember,” she whispered.
At Manchester Piccadilly, Oliver and Sophie melted into the crowd without goodbyes. On the platform, Emma and James stood wordless, surrounded by rushing passengers.
“Home?” he asked finally.
“What about your Liverpool shipment?”
“There isnt one. Just like your year-end reports.”
“I know.” She took his hand. “Theres a house for sale in Cheshire. Two floors, big garden. Room for a dog.”
“A big one?” James grinned.
“Enormous. And a garage for your lorry.”
They boarded the next train south. This time, they talkedreally talkedfor the first time in years.
Six months later, they bought the Cheshire house. Adopted a boisterous Labrador. Emma began meeting James after long hauls with homemade meals; he learned to ask about her day.
Theyd been more than spouses all alongthey were family. And that random, absurd meeting on the train became their favourite story to recount on summer evenings, glasses in hand, grateful for the accident that forced them to rediscover what theyd nearly lost.
