Chapter 2
2132 Words
Connor smiled while walking towards Emily, admiring her beauty from afar; he could see her elegant shape and the beautiful woman she had turned out to become.
He hesitated for a brief second. It had been years since they saw each other, and now she seemed different.
Emily raised her hand to wave back at him from a distance as she watched him walk closer to where she was standing.
He was well-dressed in an expensive suit, walking like a gentleman towards her. She smiled; it has been ages since she saw him.
‘Man, he’s so tall,’ she muttered, watching Connor standing in front of her.
“Emily! How long has it been?” Connor said, hugging her thigh. “I can’t believe who I'm seeing right in front of me,” he continued.
“It's been too long, Connor.” Emily replied, trying to sound casual, still stunned by how big he had gotten and his voice; it had the depth of a classical radio announcer. It was so soothing to hear.
They stood in silence for a moment, chatting and laughing hard as if they were the only two people in the gallery. Emily could feel her pulse racing whenever Connor touched her in the midst of their conversation; she could feel the electric charge between them.
She wondered if Connor clearly remembered their younger days like she did, especially back in high school.
Connor had always had that effect on her; he had always been the one who made her laugh, but nothing had ever happened between them. It had been a safe friendship until now, even though they really liked each other.
"Are you here alone?" he asked, eyes searching hers.
"Yeah," she admitted. Emily's eyes landed on her finger; she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. She would have taken it off when she was having her heated argument with Peter. Guess that’s why he never noticed she was married.
But well, it felt good to say that out loud, if it wasn’t completely true. For tonight, she wanted to believe it and feel some level of freedom from the wraps of her husband. For just a moment, she wanted to forget her life with Peter.
Connor snapped her out of her thoughts. “I’m so glad to see you; how is life with you?” Emily smiled, if only she knew how best to answer that question. She would be exposing her suffocating life.
“I’m doing just fine,” Emily responded. “Oh wow! Look at that painting.” Emily distracted him, trying to deviate from the conversation to prevent him from asking more questions; she desperately needed to change the subject, wondering why he’s suddenly reappeared after all these years.
They moved from painting to painting, but Emily barely saw the art. Every time Connor leaned in close, she felt her pulse quicken. She could smell the faint cologne on his skin, mixed with something else—something that made her feel like she was standing too close to the edge of a cliff.
The background music was fading gradually; they both bonded and also networked with other people around. The event was coming to an end, and they were already fond of each other's presence.
“Are you ready to go home yet? Or we can go to my place; I live close by; and guess what! I have a nice bar; you will love it so we can catch up more, because who knows when next I will get to see you again.” Connor suggested with a smile on his lips as he held on to Emily’s hand.
Emily hesitated for a while; she pondered the right decision to make. Should she tell him about Peter now? Should she come clean about everything? But what good would it do?
‘How do I get to tell him I am married now?’ Emily murmured to herself, even though she knew she was enjoying his presence. Connor had always been the funny one to make her laugh. And she wouldn’t lie, she was enjoying everything about the night. She wasn't ready to go back to her frustrating life just yet.
“Hmmm,” Emily acted as if she were thinking while Connor patiently waited for her response.
“f**k it! Let’s do it.” They both laughed at her response and headed out of the gallery.
The car ride to his place was a blur. She knew what she was doing was reckless, but she couldn’t stop. For once, she wanted to be reckless.
She wanted to forget. She stared out the window, admiring the nice structures and the city lights. She hardly goes out, especially not at night, but tonight she wanted to escape her normal lifestyle.
The next thing Emily knew, she was standing in Connor’s apartment. She paused to admire the designs and paintings on the wall as she led herself inside. The whole apartment was cozy, filled with art and a sense of warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Hey Connor, did you become a doctor? like you wanted to, your dreams in high school.” She asked, laughing at the unlikely decor. Connor's apartment surprised Emily—warm, inviting, and full of art. "You didn't become a doctor, did you?" she teased.
Connor laughed hard as Emily mocked him. “Yes, his dream was actually to become a doctor, to save lives. But life didn’t turn out the way he had planned it to.”
“Hahaha, I am an Assistant District Attorney for the States today, a very successful one at that, so don't mock me,” Connor teased her, handing her a drink he had gotten from his bar.
“Wow, I can see pride crawling in,” Emily responded with a giggle. “Then what are you doing at the gallery? Why not the courtroom?”
“You know,” Connor said calmly with a soft smile, “life has different ways of pulling unexpected things your way, just like meeting you again tonight.” He looked at Emily in a captivating way.
Connor smiled if only she had really known his intention and why he had attended the gallery. “Being a prosecutor doesn't mean I have to socialize, unlike you I found in the art gallery, your dwelling home.” Connor responded by poking Emily by the cheek as he watched her giggle at his jokes.
“Emily, why are your works not displayed at the gallery? Emily, you have always been a very good artist; I had imagined you would have gone professional by now.”
Emily stood there silent for a while. He had just touched a sensitive part of her. She had dreams, but they were all crushed when she got married to Peter. He wanted her to be a housewife; she only got to paint indoors.
Tears fill her eyes as she reminisces through her life after marriage. Connor noticed her silence and how sad she had suddenly become.
“Did I say something disturbing?” Connor asked, moving close to Emily, his finger brushing her cheek gently as he wiped off the tears that had just dropped from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Emily,” he continued as his lips pecked her cheeks.
“I would do or say anything to hurt you.” Connor assured her. Their eyes locked, and they both moved closer, each word drawing them nearer. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers as their faces inched closer together.
Finally, their lips met in a tender yet passionate kiss, a perfect blend of softness and urgency. Emily felt like a release of all the tension and frustration she had been holding onto—a connection that sparked a fire within them both. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
“Stop; I can't do this. Are you sure?" he murmured, his lips barely grazing hers. His voice was softer now, filled with hesitation. “We don’t have to... but I can feel it, Emily. I know you want this—just as much as I do.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending shivers down her spine. “I know you want this; you want me to kiss you, slow and deep, my tongue moving down your neck. chest, stomach, all the way till I'm under your skirt.”
Emily was now letting out a loud moan as he touched and kissed her. She leaned into the kiss, but as their lips touched, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. What was she doing? She had a husband, a life... But it had been so long since anyone made her feel this alive. Peter would never know. He didn’t even care enough to notice she was gone.
Connor went on, "I'm going to make sure you have the best night ever while sliding his finger inside her underwear."
Emily held on to Connor as he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. The sight of the bed filled Emily with a deep longing as she kissed Connor passionately.
Desire consumed them throughout the night, each touch and caress igniting a burning need they couldn't resist. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, every kiss and embrace intensifying the passion between them.
At that moment, Emily ceased to think about Peter or the consequences. She didn’t think about not going home that night or what she would tell her husband. All she cared about was the way Connor made her feel; she hadn’t felt that way in a very long time; seen, wanted, and alive.
Emily allowed herself to fall deeper into the moment, into Connor’s warm arm, forgetting the life waiting for her outside those walls.
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Back to the present
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Emily took a deep breath; her hands were shaking as she opened the door to her car. She was nervous. “What have I done?" she muttered as the guilt of what had happened last night and what she will be expecting at home weighs in her heart. Last night was about freedom, but this morning it was all regret.
Emily started the car and began driving home. Should she call Peter back or respond to the voicemail, or should she just wait till she gets home? She pondered what to do exactly. Emily was confused; How could she ever face Peter now? How could she pretend everything was the same, when nothing was? She knew there would be consequences but just didn’t know what they would be.
“I’ll tell him I stayed at a friend’s place after the gallery,” she rehearsed what to tell Peter to calm him down, as that was the best lie she could come up with.
“It was late, and I didn’t want to drive home. I must’ve forgotten to call.” She could hear the weakness in her own excuse, but she had no better option. She didn’t have much time.
Finally, there it was—the sight of her house. Emily hurriedly came down from her car; her hands were still shaking as she walked towards the door. She slipped into the sitting room, observing the silence of the entire house; hopefully there was no one home.
Just as she was about to head up to the stairs, there he was. Her eyes met his; she froze for a second as they were both silent; the atmosphere was tense.
“Where were you?” Peter asked. His voice was calm and low, but Emily could sense the underlying anger beneath his voice.
She could feel her heart racing, careful of the right words to say at that moment.
“I—” she began, her voice trembling. “I went to an art gallery; what I wanted to tell you about before our fight, and afterwards, it got late, and then I went to a friend's place. I didn't want to drive home that late.”
Before she could continue, Peter cut her off, but this time his voice was loud and deep.
“Really, Emily? A friend's place, and you could not pick up my calls and respond to voicemails?”
Emily could feel the walls closing in around her; she was sweating. It feels like he could see through her.
“Which friend? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Emily!” Peter shouted at her.
“I…I’m sorry,” Emily stammered, trying to maintain the lie in convincing Peter.
“Emily,” Peter called out again, but his voice was quieter this time, in a dangerous way.
“Where exactly were you last night?”
- Writer
