The morning had fallen heavy, gray, and dull. Grégory opened his eyes without knowing why, but something in the air had changed. Maybe it was the different silence, denser somehow. Or maybe it was the dream—blurry, warm, unsettling—where Angie appeared again, her hesitant gaze, her lips still burning from the kiss the night before.
He lay still for a long while, one arm over his eyes, trying to smother the fire in his chest. But it was useless. He had crossed a line. A line he once thought impossible to cross. And he was already carrying the weight of it in every cell of his body.
When he came down to the kitchen, everything felt strangely still. As if the world had slowed down around him. He poured himself some coffee, but the familiar aroma brought no comfort. He stood there, leaning against the counter, staring at the machine like it could somehow give him answers.
He was no longer the flawless husband. He had become that man. The one who kisses another. The one who cheats. Even if it hadn't gone further, even if it wasn't premeditated, the act had happened. And Angie… she wasn't a stranger. She was Jessica's childhood friend. A woman Jessica loved like a sister.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Then, his phone vibrated.
He picked it up without thinking, convinced for a second it was Angie. He had a thousand things to tell her. A thousand questions.
But no.
Jessica.
"I'm coming home tonight. Train at 6 PM. See you soon, my love."
His fingers hovered over the screen. He froze. She was coming back tonight. Tonight. He had completely forgotten. Or perhaps he had pushed it from his mind, as if her presence would force him to face everything he still couldn't name.
He didn't respond right away. Just sat there, silent, his heart tightening. He didn't even know how to welcome her home. What was he supposed to do? Hug her? Kiss her? Pretend everything was normal?
He drained the last of his coffee. The bitterness grounded him, but only slightly.
---
Elsewhere in the city, Angie had woken up slowly. Hair in disarray, sheets still tangled around her legs, it had taken her a moment to remember why there was that sinking feeling in her gut.
Then it came back.
The kiss.
And the silence that followed.
She got up, wandered through her apartment aimlessly. Opened a book, tried to write, replied to two work texts, then let her phone slip onto the couch.
Jessica was coming home tonight.
The thought hit hard. And with it, a wave of nausea. She pictured her friend walking through the door, suitcase in hand, smiling like everything was fine… and Angie felt breathless.
She hadn't slept more than three hours. The scenes played over and over in her head. Grégory's gaze. His hand brushing hers. His lips. The unexpected gentleness. The sincerity that had struck her like lightning.
It wasn't just a moment of weakness.
And that terrified her.
---
By 2 PM, Grégory had thrown himself into housework. He tidied the living room, folded laundry, wiped down the kitchen—anything to keep busy. He kept checking his phone. Nothing from Angie. Not a single message.
He thought about texting her. A simple "How are you?" Or maybe: "We need to talk."
But he didn't.
He opened the windows, as if he could clear out the lingering thoughts. The air was cool, the sky full of clouds ready to burst. A familiar scent still hung in the apartment, hard to define, but present. He didn't know if it was Angie's perfume or just her presence still clinging to the walls.
He looked at the couch. The cushion where she had sat the night before. He wanted to sit there, to rest his head, to relive the moment. But instead, he looked away.
---
5:50 PM. The tension was unbearable.
Jessica would be home in just a few minutes. He had changed twice, unsure why. He'd turned on a soft light in the living room, put on some quiet music. Nothing dramatic. Just… normal.
Or nearly.
Each tick of the clock hit like a hammer. He could hear his own breathing—short, uneven. He no longer knew who he was.
Then finally… the sound of a key in the lock.
He jumped.
The door opened. Jessica walked in, dragging her suitcase, her coat damp from the rain.
— "Hi!" she said cheerfully, wiping her feet. "What a mess this trip back was… you wouldn't believe it."
Grégory didn't respond right away. He just looked at her, as if she were from another world. The world before Angie.
— "I missed you," she said with a smile. She came closer and kissed him on the cheek.
He closed his eyes for a second. That simple gesture burned him inside. He still remembered the taste of another kiss.
— "I missed you too," he murmured.
She dropped her suitcase, took off her coat, and stretched.
— "I need a hot shower… I'm frozen. I'll tell you all about the trip after, okay?"
— "Sure."
But he wasn't sure. Not about anything.
She smiled, kissed his forehead, and disappeared down the hall.
The sound of running water soon echoed through the apartment. And meanwhile, Grégory just sat there, frozen. Head in his hands.
Jessica was home. Everything was "normal" again.
But nothing felt the same.