The temporary woman
Evelyn always thought of herself as a clever woman. She held a respectable post at a highprofile firm in the City of London, lived in a snug flat on a cobbled street near Covent Garden, and even owned a cata fluffy, headstrong ginger named Millie, who mirrored Evelyns independent spirit.
At thirtytwo she felt her life had fallen into place: her career was progressing, friends appreciated her blunt humor, and men seemed to notice her. Then Russell appeared.
He arrived at the company as the new finance directortall, with a silverthreaded receding hairline, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His voice was soft, yet each word carried a weight that hushed the room whenever he spoke.
Evelyn, as head of marketing, crossed paths with him in endless meetings. At first she only noted his sharp intellect and business acumen, but soon she found herself looking forward to those encounters.
And then there was the office party.
They chatted over a glass of Bordeaux, laughed at the bosss tired jokes, and at one point his fingers brushed nonchalantly against her wrist. A chill ran down Evelyns spine.
Youre not like the rest of them, he said, fixing her with a piercing stare that stole her breath.
She knew he was married, that he had two children and a large house in Surrey. Still, when he began texting her, inviting her for lunch walks and later for dinner at upscale restaurants, she allowed herself to forget the facts.
I cant just walk away from her now, he explained one evening, his hand gentle on hers. Kids, mortgages, the family business But you understand that whats real exists only between us, dont you?
Evelyn nodded, eyes closed. His fingers were warm, his voice so convincing that she wanted to believe every syllable. She imagined him finally confessing to his wife, them finding a new flat together, and both of them no longer hiding in shadows.
Everything will change soon, he whispered, planting a kiss on her temple. Just give me a little more time.
And she gave it.
At first it was months. Then years.
She learned to live in that strange interval between soon and never. She learned not to be the first to call, not to write superfluous messages, not to ask how his family weekend had been. She learned to smile when he bragged about his daughters school awards, and to stay silent when he complained that his wife has stopped understanding him at all.
Youre the only one who truly knows me, he would say, and Evelyn took it as a compliment, not a sentence.
She bought elegant lingerie for their rare meetings, practiced his favourite recipes, and listened patiently to his endless work stories. Sometimes, lying beside him, she caught herself wondering what his favourite colour was, or whether he liked opera. She did know, however, how he sighed when exhausted and how his brow furrowed in anger.
When? she would ask, and he always managed a new excuse.
A crisis at work here, a health scare with his fatherinlaw there, a son who seemed too young for such upheavalsEvelyn clenched her teeth and nodded. She no longer believed the promises, yet she feared admitting that even to herself.
Then disaster struck.
Russells wife was involved in a car crash. Not fatal, but seriousbroken bones and a long rehabilitation. Evelyn thought this would finally make him see how miserable his marriage was. Instead he began disappearing to the hospital, cancelling their rendezvous, and ignoring her messages.
She could not hold back any longer and begged to meet him in his hotel room to hear the truth.
He started, breathless:
I need her now. She needs me more than ever. Hold on a little, shell get back on her feet and then
Then hung in the air like the last thread of a strand of hair, the only thing Evelyn could cling to in her desperation. She wanted to scream, What about me? Dont I matter? but her lips trembled and her voice refused.
Russell stood by the window, his back to her, his silhouette etched against the twilight London skyline. He spoke of fractured limbs, physiotherapy schedules, of a wife who could barely lift a spoon.
She cant even hold a spoon herself, he whispered, and in his voice Evelyn heard something cold for the first time: pain, duty, a sort of love.
You youre worried about her, he said, not a question but a statement.
He turned, and his eyes were filled with such anguish that Evelyn realised she had never seen him like thisnot when he muttered about a boring marriage, not when he whined that his wife doesnt understand him.
Shes the mother of my children, he added, as if that explained everything.
And suddenly the pieces fell into place.
Hold on a little, she repeated, a bitter smile tugging at her mouth. You told me yourself that it was over with her. That there was nothing left between you two.
Russell lowered his gaze and began to fumble.
It is, but
Evelyn paced slowly to the door.
You know, Russell, I once thought I was needed, she said without turning. But in truth you need neither your wife nor meyou just found it convenient.
Silence settled in the room, thick as tar. Russell froze, as if her words had become shards piercing him.
You just wanted to have everything, she continued, finally facing him. Her voice trembled, but she refused to let tears fall. A wife who creates a cosy home, raises the children, keeps you comfortable. And meto feel wanted, young, someone to vent to about that very wife.
He tried to interject, but Evelyn raised her hand sharply.
No, listen! You never loved her, never loved me. You loved only the roles we gave you. You returned to her because she was your comfort zone. You fled to me when you craved a thrill.
Russells face turned pallid. His fingers clenched the edge of the desk.
Youre being unfair he began, but Evelyn only laughed, a bitter, hollow sound.
Fairness? You speak of fairness? Then answer me honestly: if that crash hadnt happened, how long would this farce have lasted? A year? Five? Ten? Would you have shuffled between two women until old age, convincing each she was the one?
He said nothing. That silence spoke louder than any accusation.
Evelyn inhaled deeply, brushed a stray curl from her face as if gathering her thoughts.
The most painful thing, she whispered, voice suddenly soft and weary, is that Im not angry at your wife. Im angry at myself. At believing the fairy tale of the unhappy married man. At turning a blind eye to the truth. At letting you use me.
She grabbed her bag, walked to the door, and paused on the threshold.
I wish you one thing, Russelltruly love someone, even once. So you finally understand how it hurt both of us.
The door clicked shut, this time for good.
Epilogue
A year later Evelyn happened upon him in HydePark. He strolled with his wife, who leaned on a cane and moved slowly beside him. Russell supported her under the elbow, murmuring something softly into her ear. On his face was an expression Evelyn had never seen in all the years theyd tangleda tender, uneasy care.
In that moment she let go.
She finally understood she had never been needed. She had merely been a temporary amusement, a fleeting consolation for a man who loved only himself.
Now it was over.
Evelyn squared her shoulders and walked toward a new lifeone where people valued her not for what she could give, but simply for who she was.
