**The Secret Trysts**
After his divorce, Oliver claimed he was “keeping his options open,” as he often told colleagues and mates. Eight years of marriage had ended in bitterness, though he hadnt wanted ithis ex-wife, Abigail, had been impossible to live with. At least theyd had no children; shed refused outright.
At thirty-six, Oliver cut a striking figurebroad-shouldered, athletic, with a brooding sort of charm that drew women in. Hed had his share of flings, even with younger girls, but marriage was the last thing on his mind. Office romances? Too cliché. And most of his female coworkers were married anyway.
“At least Ive got the sense not to dive into that mess,” hed say over pints at the pub.
“Famous last words,” his friends would laugh. “You know how it goeslove sneaks up when you least expect it.”
Oliver thought himself immune. He was wrong.
He would never forget the summer morning she walked into the office. His mate, Ethan, had warned him the day before:
“New hire starting tomorrow. Maxs wife, from the branch over in Leeds.”
Oliver vaguely knew Maxa dull, forgettable man.
“Probably just as dull as him,” hed thought, dismissing the news.
Then she arrived. Lillian. One glance, and his breath caught. She was stunning. And cleverwithin days, Oliver was smitten. Soon, he was lingering by the lifts each morning, heart pounding, evenings spent alone with only thoughts of her.
*Shes perfect. Exactly what I want. And if shes right for me, then I must be right for her. I just need to make her see itnever mind the husband. At least Ive got the advantage here. Working so closely, no one will suspect a thing.*
A week passed. Lillian warmed to himshared jokes, lingering glances. Yet she spoke too often of Max. It gnawed at him.
*Is she warning me off? Or does she actually love that dreary man? She married him, thoughwhy?*
Still, he hesitated to flirt outright. But their shared project meant long hours togetherheads bent over documents, shoulders nearly touching. One afternoon, Ethan was away. The air between them crackled. Oliver felt her breath, warm and quickthen, without thinking, he kissed her.
She pulled back, pressing fingers to her lips. “Oliverdont.”
But she didnt leave. Didnt shout. That was hope enough.
“Sorry. Lost my head,” he murmured, grinning.
Lillian returned to the files as if nothing happened. He exhaled, relieved.
Days slipped by, the incident unspoken. But Friday, as the clock ticked toward five, Oliver dared:
“Can I call you this weekend?”
“No,” she said sharplythen softened. “Ill call you.”
His heart leapt. “Ill wait.”
Saturday crawled by. His phone stayed silent. Sunday, still nothing.
*She couldve found a moment. Even if Max was home.*
That evening, he caved and dialled. She answered in a whisper:
“Dont ring me. Ill call.”
At dawn on Monday, his alarm hadnt even sounded when his phone buzzedLillian.
*What could she want this early?*
“Oliverare you free? Can I come over?”
He bolted upright.
“You? Alone? Youve got the car? Yes. Write this down.”
He showered in record time, brewed coffee but didnt drink it. The doorbell rang. One look at her eyes, and he knewhe yanked her inside, kissed her hard. She gasped, laughed softly:
“Good morning.”
He didnt answer. Couldnt.
Later, over coffee in his kitchen, she murmured, “Max leaves for work much earlier than me.” Oliver stiffenedwhy bring him up now?
She glanced around. “Youve made it nice here. And the coffees lovely.”
They arrived at work separately, just on time. Oliver braced for suspicion, but no one noticedexcept Ethan.
“Running late today, mate. Usually beat me in.”
“Just one of those days,” Oliver shrugged.
Lunch was stolen moments at a café table before Ethan joined, grinning.
“Hungry as a horse today. Slept right through breakfastthough the wife had it ready. Mondays, eh?”
No one suspected a thing. Why would they? Lillian was married. Oliver was always “just colleagues” with everyone.
Soon, her morning visits became routine. An hour here, ninety minutes there. Then, one Saturday at ten, his phone rang.
“Can I come over?”
“Any time, Lily. Always. Even forever.”
She arrived in half an hour. A weekend surpriseunexpected bliss.
“Howd you manage it?” he asked as they lay tangled in sheets.
“Max visits his parents cottage most Saturdays. I hate the placenever go.”
“Stay with me, then. Properly.”
“I cant.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cant.”
Oliver swallowed the sting. *She needs time. Be grateful shes here at all.*
But later, he pressed: “Lillianwhat happens next?”
“This. For as long as we can.”
“Its not enough. I want weekends. Everything.”
She sighed. “If you were married, wed be even. Then Id know you were off-limits.”
“But forbidden fruits the sweetest.”
She laughed. “Ive never had much of a sweet tooth.”
Months passed. Stolen mornings, rare Saturdays when Max left for the cottage. Oliver grew restless.
“Leave him,” he begged one evening. “Marry me. This isnt enough.”
“I cant.”
“Why?”
“Because its not just Max. Theres my soneleven, independent. Thats why I can slip away. He gets himself to school.”
Oliver blinked. “You never mentioned a child.”
“Does it change things?”
“No. Id adopt him, if”
“He has a father. Max would never allow it.”
After that, their meetings dwindled. Oliver saw the truththis led nowhere. He wanted marriage; she wouldnt leave. The early mornings exhausted him. Finally, he snapped.
“Ive thought about it. Im done with secrets. Leave him, or were through.”
Her voice was quiet. “Then were through.”
She left. Oliver moved onfound a single woman, settled into something calm. But if hes honest? Hell never love like that again. Between torment and peace, he chose peace.
Its better this way.
