Stuck Between

Midnight had already passed by the time Claire eased her car out onto the quiet street. The neighbourhood had gone still in that deep, suspended way it only reached after everyone else had decided the day was over. Porch lights glowed softly. Windows were dark. Even the air felt different; cooler, calmer, heavy with the promise of sleep.

She wished, not for the first time, that she hadn't had to leave.

The image wouldn't let her go: Roy's bedroom, dim and warm, the sheets tangled and still carrying the imprint of them. She could have stayed. She wanted to stay. Curling into him, fitting against his solid warmth, letting the night stretch on until morning light crept in and painted the edges of the world gold. It would have been so easy to imagine waking there, nowhere else to be, no one else to answer to.

But her life didn't orbit Roy alone.

As much as he had changed it, enriched it, unsettled it, there were still classes to teach in the morning, students to wrangle, a day that would arrive whether she was ready or not. Responsibility had a way of pulling her forward, even when every part of her wanted to remain exactly where she'd been.

After they'd finished on the couch, after it had been everything she'd hoped for and more, Claire had excused herself to clean up. Alone in the bathroom, she'd leaned over the sink, catching her breath, staring at her reflection with a small, stunned smile. She'd looked... happy. Flushed, undone, unmistakably alive.

That was when she'd taken out her phone.

The picture of the scarf had already been saved, snapped earlier in the evening, the silk folded just right. She sent it to Adam along with a message that she'd arrived safely and was exhausted. That she was going straight to bed. It wasn't even entirely a lie. She was exhausted, just not in the way he would imagine.

Of course, Adam had wanted to chat. He always did. She'd smiled sadly at the screen and told him she really needed sleep, that they could talk in the morning.

And they would.

She still loved him. Working at the same school had only strengthened that bond; the easy familiarity, the shared jokes in the hallway, her drama students buzzing past his chemistry lab. She could already picture tomorrow: if she wasn't too tired, she'd bring something homemade for him, a small treat left in the breakroom for him to find at lunch. Adam loved things like that. Sweet, thoughtful gestures. He was wonderful.

But he wasn't Roy.

Adam was young, energetic, handsome in an uncomplicated way. Roy, though... Roy was magnetic. When she was near him, she felt like she was vibrating, her body constantly on the edge of something. Looking into his eyes made her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her was tilting, balance wavering back and forth. He wasn't just a dream.

He was gravity.

Adam had believed her texts. Of course he had. Why would he suspect the woman he was about to marry? He'd wished her goodnight and let her go.

Good.

She'd gone back to Roy then. Back to him and this time to the bed. His bed. It smelled like him: clean, warm, unmistakably Roy. She'd loved that more than she could explain.

He'd been different there. More sure of himself. Whatever hesitation had held him back earlier was gone, burned away. He'd taken the lead when he wanted to, confident and deliberate, showing her exactly what he desired without second-guessing himself.

She'd never felt so completely satisfied, emotionally and physically at once. It was almost laughable. If doctors could prescribe a cure for feeling empty or unseen, it would have one name written neatly across the pad: Roy.

And she would fill that prescription without hesitation.

As the car hummed along the empty road, the cool night air slipping in through the vents, she knew she would miss him all night long. Leaving that bed had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Pulling on her brown-and-pink polka dot dress. Buckling her shoes. Walking to the door. Even stopping for a proper goodnight kiss; each step had required an absurd amount of willpower.

So. Much. Willpower.

But she'd done it.

And doing it showed her something about herself. How far she could go when she had to. How much she was capable of choosing, even when every instinct screamed to stay.

Maybe one day she wouldn't have to leave. Maybe one day, when they were done, she'd simply roll closer, claiming her place, Roy's arm coming around her as naturally as breathing. Sleeping together until morning, no alarms, no lies waiting on the other side of the door.

Again her thoughts drifted back to Adam.

Sweet Adam. Dependable, kind, clever Adam.

Had she made the right choice?

Was he the man she was supposed to marry? She loved him, she knew that, but how long could she keep this up? The careful balancing, the half-truths, the quiet omissions that made space for Roy in her life. Adam would find out eventually. Sooner or later, the truth would surface.

And when it did, it would hurt. It would hurt him. It would hurt her.

But as long as she could be with Roy, as long as she could share him with her mother, feel that strange, perfect alignment, then maybe the risk, the damage, all of it would still be worth it.

She turned into her driveway and parked in front of the small bungalow she owned. The house sat dark and quiet, empty windows staring back at her. She shifted the car into park and didn't move right away.

She knew she'd sleep well. Roy had seen to that. Her body was pleasantly heavy, her mind tired in the best possible way.

But she would wake up alone.

Alone in the space between two men she loved, separated from both by the lie she had to maintain in order to keep them. Connected, and yet distant. Full, and yet unfinished.

One day, she told herself, she would know what the right thing to do was.

One day.