The Sea of Doubt
It was already dark, the rain had passed, and through the window, Eleanor saw her blurred reflectiona woman with a tangled soul. For months, she had been torn between two men. Between duty and passion. Between the past and the future.
The first was Edward, her husband. With him, she felt safe, warm, and at ease. Over six years of marriage, he had built around her a cosy, unshakable fortress. The second In her thoughts, she called him nothing but “the boy.” He was younger, and in that word lay all the boundless, terrifying tenderness she dared not set free, even in her own mind.
Edward had been introduced to her by friends.
After a foolish breakup with her school sweetheart, who had chosen her best friend over her, Eleanor had been heartbroken. She withdrew, swearing off love altogether. She felt doomed to play a background role in others romancesno grand declarations, no armfuls of flowers, no sleepless nights from sheer joy. Just grey, ordinary days.
Then, at a party, her friend pointed out Edward:
“Look, thats the architect I told you about. Clever, promising. And most of allsolid as a rock.”
Edward looked older than his years, dressed formally, almost old-fashioned. But the moment he spoke, the world seemed to shift. He was a brilliant conversationalistwitty, sharp, his jokes precise but never cruel. Within an hour, Eleanor felt as though he could see straight through her.
“You, Eleanor, are like a living Pre-Raphaelite painting,” he said as they parted, admiring her face. “Just as distant and sorrowful.”
She had to look up who the Pre-Raphaelites were, and she marvelled at his knowledge of art. That was only the beginning. The architect was persistent, and Eleanor, weary of loneliness, surrendered almost at once. Within two months, she agreed to move in with him.
Her parents frowned.
“Are you sure, love?” her mother pressed. “You look at him not with adoration, but like a grateful kitten taken in by a kind family.”
Eleanor brushed it off. What doubts could there be?
Six months later, they married. Edward built her a perfect worldshielding her from chores, worries, any storm. He called her his Princess, and himself her Faithful Knight. She thought men like him no longer existed.
“Why should you cook?” hed say, busy in the kitchen. “A womans calling is to be happy, to inspire her husband. Rest.”
She revelled in his care, basking in her flawless role in this perfect play. Still, when she brought up children, imagining what a devoted father hed be, Edward gently demurred:
“Lets not rush happiness, Princess. Arent we happy just as we are?”
So passed five peaceful years.
The crack in her tranquil life appeared the day she collided with a man outside a business centre. Rushing to a presentation, she crashed into someone solid and unyielding.
“Oh, sorry!” she gasped, looking up.
Before her stood a young man who looked like an actorfair-haired, with bottomless, laughing eyes.
“No harm done,” he grinned. “No disaster yet. Running late?”
She nodded and hurried off, feeling his gaze on her back. During her speech, she spotted him in the front row, watching her with a smile that made her breath catch and her voice falter.
He waited for her afterward.
“You dashed out so fast, I thought you were off to another emergency. Let me give you a lift? No collisions this time.”
Always so prudent, so cautiousyet suddenly, she agreed.
***
Eleanor lost her head. She had forgotten how passion felthow the world could shrink to the size of one person, to the sound of his voice, his smile. How a simple “How was your day?” could sound like the most beautiful music.
“I feel awake when Im with you,” she told him once.
“And I feel like Im breathing properly for the first time in years,” he replied.
His name was Leo. Not “the boy,” of course. Leostrong, fearless. After months of stolen moments, she was ready to leave everything for him.
But then
First, her mother fell seriously ill. How could she burden her recovery with news of divorce? She waited. Then Edward slipped, broke his leg, was in plaster for months. Of course, Eleanor postponed the difficult conversation. Playing nurse gave her a lawful reprieve.
By the time Edwardher Knightstill limped with a cane, her passion for Leo began to cool, replaced by cold reasoning. “Dont rush,” she told herself. “Edward is your home.” Yet her heart ached, pounding in her temples: “Leo!”
Meanwhile, Leo grew impatient, demanding more of her time. One evening, she stood before the mirror, pretending to prepare for a work meeting. In truth, Leo waited outside.
Edward approached, leaning on his cane, and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“You look beautiful tonight, Princess. Just like our first date.”
His voice was so full of love and trust that something inside her snapped.
“Edward I need to tell you something,” she whispered, a shiver running down her spine.
“Something important?” He smiled gently. “Well talk tonight. Ill make your favourite roast. Dont be late.”
He kissed her forehead, and it burned like a brand.
Leo waited by his car. The moment she sat inside, his hand closed around hers.
“Well? Did you tell him?”
“Im sorry I couldnt. Edwards still so weak”
Leo slowly released her hand.
“I see. Pity. Duty. Gratitude.” Each word struck true. “But tell mehow long? When does our happiness begin? Did you think of me at all?”
She closed her eyes, her heart shattering.
“Just a little more time. Please.”
“Time,” he said bitterly. “We never had any to begin with.”
They drove to a hotel in silence. Eleanor watched his tense profile, knowing she was losing him. And at home, Edward waitedwith his blind faith in her, and a warm meal.
She was so tired of lying, of hiding. She had to choose. But whom? Why couldnt she decide? What was she afraid of?
At their next meeting, she begged Leo for one more month. He agreed. Then, on Edwards birthday, a text came: “Im waiting. Last chance. Dont comeits over.”
An ultimatum. And how perfectly timed! Her blood ran coldshe couldnt go tonight.
Edward was opening his giftan expensive watch. Then he looked at her, quiet and knowing.
“Thank you, Princess. But I dont need a watch.”
“Why? You said you liked this model.”
“That was a long time ago Back when you looked at me the way you now look at your phone, waiting for a message. Who is he?”
Eleanor froze. Edward knew. For how long? Strangely, instead of shame, she felt relief. The mountain of lies had finally crumbled.
“I didnt want to hurt you, especially after your injury”
“So you lied for my sake?” he interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically cold. “Fine. Lets say Im not wounded. But we were done.”
Eleanor didnt go to Leo straight away.
She sat on a bench outside, smokingthough shed quit years ago. Her hands shook, but inside, she felt an eerie calm. Everything had collapsed: Edwards perfect world, her role as Princess, the fortress that had become a cage.
Now she was just Eleanor. Free of secrets. Alone, a little guilty, and frighteningly lightlike a feather the wind could carry anywhere.
And that wind blew toward Leo.
She reread his message: “Im waiting. Last chance. Dont comeits over.” Once, such words would have set her heart racing. Now, they barely pricked her with anxiety.
Leo lived in a studio in a new part of town. She took a taxi. In the lift, her pulse quickened. She imagined him opening the door, embracing her, his eyes alight with that fire They would finally be together.
This was just the beginning.
The door opened at once, as if hed been waiting behind it. But Leo didnt rush to hold her. He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. His face was grave, weary.
“I did it. I told him everything. Im free. Do you hear me?”
She said it hopefully, waiting for relief, for joy on his face. But he walked to the window, silent, then turned.
“Congratulations.”
There was no delight in his gaze. Only a detached sadness.
“And?” she pressed. “Youre just going to stand there? We waited for this. Nothing stands in our way now. We can be togetherproperly.”
He shook his head slowly. None of his old energy remained.
“We did wait. But I, Eleanor, think Ive waited too long.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
“You say nothing stands in our way. But you still look over your shoulder. You still measure your words. I waited for you to come here whole, not in pieces, not half out the door. I wanted your freedom, not your guilt. And now I dont want to be the relief after the collapse. I want to be the reason someone stays, not the escape they flee to.
She stared at him, the silence between them vast and final.
He opened the door.
“Goodbye, Eleanor.”
She walked home. The night air was cool, the streets quiet. No one waited for her. No promises, no prisons. Just the soft, steady rhythm of her own stepsand the first honest breath shed taken in years.
