**Secret Rendezvous**
After his divorce, Oliver was officially “on the hunt”or so he told his colleagues and mates. Eight years of marriage had ended in bitterness, though he hadnt wanted it that way. His ex-wife, hed decided, had the patience of a rattlesnake. At least there were no kidsshed never fancied the idea.
At thirty-six, Oliver was hardly on the scrap heapbroad-shouldered, fit, with a chiselled jaw and a brooding gaze that made women glance twice. Hed had his flings, some with girls barely out of university, but marriage? Not on his radar. And he never looked twice at colleaguesoffice romances were tacky, and most of the women at work were married anyway.
*”Ive got more sense than to get tangled up in that mess,”* hed say over pints at the pub.
*”Famous last words,”* his mates would laugh. *”You know how it goeslove sneaks up when you least expect it.”*
Turns out, Oliver was a bit too cocky for his own good. Fate had other plans. Hed never forget the summer day their new colleague, Amelia, walked into the office. The night before, his mate Ethan had given him the heads-up:
*”New hire starting tomorrow. Maxs wifeyou know, that bloke from accounting?”*
Oliver vaguely remembered Maxa bloke with all the charm of a spreadsheet.
*”Bet his wifes just as thrilling,”* hed thought, dismissing the whole thing.
Then Amelia arrived. One look, and Olivers brain short-circuited. She was stunning. Worse still, she was sharp as a tack. Within a week, he was loitering by the lifts every morning, waiting for her. Evenings were spent staring at his ceiling, wondering how she put up with dull-as-dishwater Max.
*”Shes perfect. And if shes perfect for me, Im perfect for her,”* he reasoned. *”Just need her to notice. Sure, theres a husband in the way, but thats my advantageIm free. Plus, well be working together. No one will bat an eye.”*
Another week passed. Amelia seemed to like himjokes, lingering glances, the works. But she talked about Max. *Constantly.* Oliver scowled into his tea.
*”Either shes not interested, or she actually loves that wallpaper of a man. Surely not the second one. Then again, she did marry him…”*
He held back, never flirting outright. But working side by side on projects made it trickyespecially when Ethan wasnt hovering nearby. Then, one fateful day, Ethan was out, and Oliver and Amelia were huddled over paperwork, heads nearly touching. He caught the warmth of her breath, andbefore his brain could intervenehe kissed her.
She jerked back, hand over her mouth. *”Oliver, *dont*.”*
But she didnt storm off. *Interesting.*
*”Sorry. Lost my head,”* he said, grinning.
Amelia pretended nothing happened. Oliver exhaled and got back to work.
Days passed. No mention of *that moment.* No alone time eitheralways someone lurking. Then, on Friday, as she packed up, Oliver took the plunge. *”Can I call you this weekend?”*
*”No!”* she said, panicked. Then, after a pause: *”…Ill call you.”*
*”Brilliant,”* he beamed. *”Ill wait.”*
Saturday came. Oliver paced, phone glued to his palm. Nothing. Sunday morningstill nada. By evening, he cracked and dialled. She answered in a whisper:
*”Dont ring me. *Ill* call.”*
Monday dawned with a shockhis phone buzzed at 6 AM. Amelia.
*”Oliver, are you busy? Can I come over?”*
He nearly fell out of bed. *”Younow? Blimey. Yeah. Write down my address.”*
He sprinted through a shower, even managed to brew coffee (though he didnt drink it). The doorbell rang. One look at her eyes, and words were pointless. He yanked her inside.
*”Morning,”* she murmured between kisses.
Oliver was *far* past conversation.
Later, over coffee in his kitchen, Amelia mused, *”Max leaves for work *hours* before me…”* Oliver gritted his teeth. *Why bring him up now?*
*”Your place is cosy,”* she added, sipping her drink. *”And the coffees decent.”*
They made it to workjust barelyarriving separately. Oliver braced for raised eyebrows. None came. Only Ethan ribbed him: *”Youre late. Usually youre here before me.”*
*”Yeah, well,”* Oliver shrugged.
Lunch was stolen glances in the canteen before Ethan plonked himself down. *”Starving. Slept through breakfasteven though the wife made it. Typical Monday.”*
Weeks slid by. Amelia swung by most morningsan hour here, stolen minutes there. One Saturday, his phone rang at 10 AM.
*”Can I come over?”*
*”Amelia, love, you never need to ask,”* he said, heart racing. *”Stay forever.”*
She arrived in thirty minutes. Oliver was chuffeda weekend visit! Unprecedented.
*”Howd you manage this?”* he asked as they tangled in the sheets.
*”Max visits his parents cottage on Saturdays. I *hate* the countryside,”* she said.
*”Stay the day.”*
*”I will. Till evening.”*
*”I meant *forever.*”*
*”Cant,”* she sighed.
Olivers chest tightened. *Too fast. Give her time.* But the question gnawed at him: *What if Max cottons on?*
*”Amelia… whats next? Sneaking around forever?”*
*”For now, yes. Today, Im *yours.*”*
*”I want weekends. *All* of them.”*
*”If you were married, wed be even,”* he joked weakly.
She laughed. *”If you were married, Id never have looked twice. Forbidden fruit and all that.”*
*”Forbiddens the sweetest.”*
*”Not my style,”* she teased.
Months passed. Early-morning trysts, rare Saturdays when Max escaped to the countryside. Oliver grew restless.
*”Amelia, *divorce him.* Marry me. This half-lifes killing me.”*
*”No,”* she said softly. *”I cant.”*
*”Why?”*
*”Because aside from Max, theres my son. Hes elevenindependent. Thats why I can slip away. But he *has* a father. Max would *never* let him go.”*
Olivers stomach dropped. *A son. She never mentioned*
*”I dont care,”* he lied smoothly. *”Id adopt him.”*
*”Sweet, but no.”*
After that, the spark fizzled. Oliver realised: this led nowhere. He wanted forever; she wanted what? Convenience? The thrill of cheating?
One morning, he ended it.
*”I cant do this. Divorce him, or were done.”*
Amelia just nodded. *”Alright.”*
She walked out. Oliver eventually met someone elsesingle, this time. But it wasnt the same. Hed loved Amelia wildly, stupidly. Maybe you only get *one* of those in a lifetime.
Between chaos and calm, he chose peace.
*Easier this way. He kept her favourite mug in the cupboard, never using it, never throwing it away. Sometimes, on quiet mornings, hed stand at the window with his coffee and watch the world wake up, half-expecting a car to pull up, a familiar figure to emerge. It never did. Years later, hed hear her name in passingMax had moved them abroad, shed remarried, had another child. Oliver nodded, smiled politely, and carried on. The ache had dulled, but it never really left. Just lived quietly beneath his ribs, like a secret hed never tell.
