I have often thought back to those years as if they were a faded tapestry hanging in the attic of my mind. Alice Harper always liked to think of herself as a clever woman. She held a respectable post in a wellknown firm in the City of London, lived in a snug flat in a Georgian terrace near Covent Garden, and kept a fluffy, headstrong orange cat named Mabel, who matched her independent spirit.
At thirtytwo, Alice felt her life was going swimmingly: her career was on an upward curve, her friends valued her blunt humour, and men seemed to notice her. Everything changed the day Robert Whitaker walked through the revolving doors of her company as the new finance director. He was tall, his temples showing a hint of silver, his suit cut to perfection. His voice was soft, yet each word carried a weight that made the meeting room fall silent when he spoke.
As head of the marketing department, Alice frequently crossed paths with him in boardrooms. At first she merely noted his sharp mind and business acumen, but soon she found herself looking forward to those encounters.
Then came the company Christmas party.
They chatted over a glass of red wine, laughed at the bosss halfhearted jokes, and, without thinking, his fingers brushed the back of her wrist. A chill ran down Alices spine.
Youre not like the rest of them, he said, his gaze cutting straight into hers, stealing her breath.
She knew he was married, that he had two children and a sizable house out in Surrey. Yet when he began sending her messages, inviting her for lunch walks, then dinner in a West End restaurant, she let herself forget the facts.
I cant just walk away from my family, he explained one evening, gently stroking her hand. The kids, the mortgage, the joint business but you understand that what we have is real, isnt it?
Alice nodded, eyes closed. His fingers were warm, his tone persuasive enough that she wanted to believe every word. She imagined him finally confessing to his wife, offering her a new flat, and both of them disappearing from the 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 the time stretched months, then years. She learned to live in that uneasy space between soon and never. She stopped being the first to call, ceased sending superfluous texts, and never asked how his weekends with the family had gone. She smiled when he bragged about his daughters school awards, and kept quiet when he complained that his wife no longer gets him.
Youre the only one who truly knows me, he would say, and Alice took it as a compliment rather than a verdict.
She bought delicate lingerie for their rare meetings, practiced his favourite recipes, and listened patiently to his workrelated ramblings. Occasionally, lying beside him, she realized she couldnt name his favourite colour or whether he liked opera, yet she could tell how he sighed when exhausted and how his brow furrowed in anger.
When will it be? shed ask, and he would always find a new excuse.
A crisis at work, his fatherinlaws ill health, the childrens school problems each seemed to push the moment further away. Alice clenched her teeth, her belief waning but her fear of admitting it to herself growing.
Then tragedy struck.
Roberts wife was involved in a car accident. She survived, but suffered broken bones and a long road to recovery. Alice thought this would finally make him see the misery of his marriage. Instead, he began disappearing to the hospital, cancelling their rendezvous, and ceasing his messages.
Unable to bear the silence, Alice asked him to meet her in a hotel room to talk.
He stumbled over his words. She needs me now. Shes never needed me more. Just hold on a little longer; once shes on her feet
Once hung in the air like a fragile thread Alice clutched in desperation. She wanted to shout, What about me? Dont I matter? but her voice faltered.
Robert stood by the window, his silhouette framed against the twilight London skyline. He spoke of broken limbs, physiotherapy sessions, of his wife barely being able to lift a spoon.
She cant even hold a spoon herself, he whispered, and for the first time Alice heard something cold beneath his words: care, love, responsibility.
Youre worried about her, he said, not a question but a statement.
He turned, his eyes full of such pain that Alice realised she had never seen this side of himnot when he moaned about a dull marriage, not when he complained his wife doesnt understand him.
Shes the mother of my children, he added, as if that alone explained everything.
Everything fell into place.
Hold on a little longer, Alice repeated, a bitter smile forming. You told me yourself that it was over with her, that there was nothing left between you two.
Robert looked down, twisting his hands.
It is, he muttered, but
Alice walked slowly toward the door.
Robert, I once thought I was essential to you, she said without turning. But in truth you needed neither your wife nor me; you just found it convenient.
A heavy silence settled, thick as tar. Robert froze, as if her words had struck him with sharp shards.
You just wanted to have it all, Alice continued, finally facing him. Her voice trembled, yet she held back tears. A wife who makes a home, raises children, and gives you peace. And me, to feel wanted, youthful, someone to vent to about that very wife.
He tried to interject, but Alice raised her hand sharply.
No, listen! You never loved either of them. You loved the roles they played for you. You returned to her because she was your comfort zone. You ran to me when you craved a thrill.
Roberts face went pale. His fingers clenched the edge of the table.
Youre being unfair he began, but Alice only laughed, a harsh, bitter sound.
Fairness? You speak of fairness? Then answer me honestly: if that accident hadnt happened, how long would this farce have lasted? A year? Five? Ten? Would you have kept juggling two women until old age, convincing each she was the only one?
He stayed silent, and that silence spoke louder than any accusation.
Alice took a deep breath, brushed a strand of hair back, as if gathering her thoughts.
The most painful part, she said, her voice soft and weary, is that Im not angry at your wife. Im angry at myselffor believing the fairytale of the unhappy married man. For turning a blind eye to the truth. For letting you use me.
She gathered her bag, opened the door, and paused on the threshold.
I wish you, Robert, to know what it feels like to truly love, even once. To finally understand the hurt you caused both of us.
The door clicked shut, this time for good.
A year later, Alice spotted him in HydePark. He was strolling with his wife, who leaned on a cane, moving slowly beside him. He supported her elbow, whispering something tender into her ear. On his face was an expression Alice had never seen beforea mixture of anxiety and gentle care.
In that moment she finally let go.
She realised she had never been what he needed. She had merely been the temporary amusement for a man who loved only himself.
Now the chapter was closed.
Alice straightened her shoulders and walked toward the new life awaiting herone where she would be valued not for what she could give, but simply for who she was.
