**A Sea of Doubts**
The night had fallen, the rain had ceased, 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 Henry, her husband. With him, she felt safe, warm, and familiar. Six years of marriage had built a cosy, unshakable fortress around her. 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.
Henry had been introduced by friends.
After a foolish breakup with a childhood sweetheart who had chosen her best friend instead, Eleanor had withdrawn, swearing off love. She convinced herself she was doomed to be a background figure in others romancesno grand declarations, no armfuls of flowers, no sleepless nights of joy, just the grey monotony of everyday life.
Then, at a party, a friend pointed Henry out.
Look, thats the architect I told you about. Clever, promising. And most importantlysteady as a rock.
Henry looked older than his years, dressed conservatively, almost old-fashioned. But when he spoke, the world seemed to tilt. He was a brilliant conversationalistwitty, sharp, his humour precise but never cruel. Within an hour, Eleanor felt as if he could see right through her.
You, Eleanor, are like a Pre-Raphaelite painting come to life, he said as they parted, admiring her face. Just as distant and sorrowful.
She had to look up the Pre-Raphaelites and marvel at his knowledge. 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.
Darling, are you sure? her mother pressed. You look at him not with the eyes of a woman in love, but like a grateful kitten taken in by a kind family.
Eleanor brushed it off. How could there be any doubt?
They married six months later. Henry built a perfect world around hershielding 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, bustling 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 immaculate play. But when she mentioned children, imagining what a devoted father hed be, Henry gently stopped her.
Lets not rush happiness, Princess. Arent we happy just as we are?
Five tranquil years passed.
The crack in her serene life appeared the day she collided with a stranger outside a London office block. Rushing to a meeting, she barrelled into someone solid and unyielding.
Oh, Im sorry! she gasped, looking up.
Before her stood a young man who could have been an actorgolden-haired, with laughing, bottomless eyes.
No harm done, he grinned. No disaster yet. Running late?
She nodded and hurried off, but she felt his gaze on her back. During her presentation, she spotted him in the front row, smiling straight at her. Her breath caught, her voice faltered.
He waited for her afterward.
You dashed out so fast, I thought you might be late again. Fancy a lift? This time, no collisions.
Always so prudent, so cautiousyet suddenly, she agreed.
***
Eleanor lost her head. She had forgotten how passion felthow the world shrank 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 melody.
I feel like Im seeing clearly when Im with you, she told him once.
And I, he replied, feel like Im breathing properly for the first time in years.
His name was Leo. Not the boy. Leostrong, fearless. After months of stolen moments, she was ready to leave everything for him.
But then
Her mother fell ill. How could she darken her recovery with news of divorce? She waited. Then Henry broke his leg, confined to crutches for months. Of course, she postponed the difficult conversation. Playing nurse gave her a lawful reprieve.
By the time Henryher Knightstill limped with a cane, her passion for Leo had cooled, replaced by rational thought. Dont rush. Weigh it all. Henry is safety. He is your home. Yet her heart, wretched and torn, howled: Leo!
Meanwhile, Leo grew impatient. One evening, she stood before the mirror, primping for a supposed business meeting. In truth, Leo waited in the car park.
Henry approached, leaning on his cane, and rested a hand on her shoulder.
Youre so beautiful today, Princess. Like our first date.
His voice brimmed with such boundless love and trust that something inside her snapped.
Henry I need to tell you something she whispered, a shiver running down her spine.
Something important? He smiled softly. Well talk tonight. Ill make your favourite. Dont be late.
He kissed her forehead, and it burned like a brand.
Leo waited by his car. She slid in, and his hand closed around hers.
Well? Did you tell him?
I couldnt. Hes still weak, still on crutches
Leo slowly released her.
I see. Pity, duty, gratitude, each word a precise strike. But tell mehow much longer? When does our happiness begin? Or am I just an afterthought?
She closed her eyes, her heart shattering.
Just a little more time. Please.
Time, he scoffed bitterly. We never had that from the start.
They drove in silence. She watched his clenched jaw, knowing she was losing him. And at home, Henry waited, blindly trusting, with dinner ready.
She was so tired of the lies, the hiding. She had to choosebut whom? Why couldnt she decide? What was she afraid of?
At their next meeting, she begged Leo for another month. He agreed. Then, on Henrys birthday, a text arrived: Im waiting. Last chance. If you dont come, its over.
An ultimatum. And today, of all days, she couldnt go.
Henry unwrapped her giftan expensive watchthen looked at her quietly.
Thank you, Princess. But I dont need a watch.
Why? You said you liked this one.
That was years ago. Back when you looked at me the way you now stare at your phone, waiting for a message. Who is he?
She froze. He knew. For how long? Strangely, instead of shame, relief washed over her. The mountain of lies had crumbled.
I didnt want to hurt you, especially after your injury
So you lied for my sake? His voice was dry, unfamiliar. Lets say Im unhurt. But we were finished.
She didnt go to Leo straight away.
She sat on a bench outside, smokingthough shed quit years ago. Her hands shook, but inside, there was an eerie calm. Everything had collapsed: Henrys perfect world, her role as Princess, the fortress now a cage.
Now she was just Eleanor. Free of secrets. Alone, a little guilty, and terrifyingly lightlike a feather the wind could carry anywhere.
And that wind blew toward Leo.
She reread his message: Im waiting. Last chance. If you dont come, its over. Once, those words would have set her heart racing. Now, only a faint pang of dread.
His flat was in a new part of town. In the lift, her pulse quickened. She imagined him opening the door, sweeping her into his arms, his eyes alight. At last, they could be together.
It was only the beginning.
The door opened at once, as if hed been waiting behind it. But Leo didnt embrace her. He stepped back, silently inviting her in. His face was solemn, weary.
I did it. I told him. Im free. Do you hear me?
She said it hopefully, expecting relief, joy. But he walked to the window and studied her.
Congratulations.
No delight in his voice. Only detached sorrow.
Well? she pressed. Arent you happy? We waited for this. Nothing stands in our way now.
He shook his head slowly. None of his old energy remained.
We did wait. But I, Eleanor, have waited too long.
A pause.
You say nothing stands in our way. But your husband was never the obstacle. You were. Your doubts, your delays, your endless just a little longer. Ive battered myself against your indecision until theres nothing left. He looked at her, not unkindly, but with the quiet finality of someone closing a book. I loved you desperately, Eleanor. But I cant love a ghost of what we might have been.
She stood in the doorway, the weight of years pressing down, realizing too late that she hadnt been torn between two menshe had been running from herself.
Outside, the city hummed, indifferent. She turned, stepped back into the hall, and closed the door softly behind her.
No grand declaration. No armfuls of flowers. Just the rain beginning again, and the long walk home.
