Chapter Seven: The Other Wife

Marissa was working late, she usually was these days. The office had emptied hours ago, the building quiet but not entirely silent, humming with the low, constant murmur of air vents and distant traffic. Her only light came from the glow of her laptop screen and the soft amber lamp in the corner. The overhead fluorescents remained off, by choice. She always preferred warmth over cold efficiency.

She was a human rights lawyer, and the work never really stopped. There were always affidavits to review, asylum claims to prepare, late-night calls with NGOs in different time zones. She was used to the long hours. Lately, though, it felt like the hours were using her.

Even with dark circles under her eyes, there was grace in the way she carried herself. Her round face, full lips, and warm brown eyes had a softness that belied the steel beneath. Her box braids were pulled up into a high, elegant bun—practical, no-nonsense, and still somehow regal.

Her brother had once called her the softest person in the hardest room. It had made her laugh. But it had also stayed with her.

People underestimated her all the time. She let them most of the time. It made it easier to get things done.

Marissa sighed and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck. It was 10:30 already, later than she meant to stay. She rubbed her eyes, and wondered about dinner. She shouldn’t be eating so late.

Her phone vibrated.

She thought that it must be Olivia. She’d hardly heard from her wife all day

But no it wasn’t.

Daniel’s name flashed across the screen. That was strange to her.

Daniel and her weren’t friends exactly, their wives were friends, and so they existed in the same space.

But they also had an understanding. Two people of color trapped in a world of white, where they each had an understanding. Moving in spaces where they wouldn’t have belonged otherwise. They understood each other.

But a message this late, that was strange to her.

Still Marissa couldn’t ignore it even if she had wanted to. That wasn’t her nature. So, she opened it up.

The message was brief, cryptic even, but Marissa understood a cry for help.

Daniel: Hey, can we meet up?

She wrote back.

Marissa: Hey, everything all right?

Daniel: Not really.

Marissa: Can it wait? It’s late.

Daniel: Not really, and it’s the sort of thing best said in person.

Marissa stared at the screen. Her body was tired, her brain fogged with paperwork and long days. But Daniel sounded… not ****, exactly. But off.

And she couldn’t ignore someone who needed her.

Marissa: Okay, where at?

Daniel: Do you know Mel’s Diner?

She did, and truthfully she could use a bite to eat.

Marissa: I can be there in twenty minutes.

———

As Olivia left the hotel room, she felt a weight off her shoulders. As brave a face as she’d had tried to put on, she had been nervous about sleeping with Daniel. And now she was glad it had not come to pass.

But there was no time for relief. Because the moment that weight lifted, another came crashing down. Daniel still knew, and while he’d changed his mind about sleeping with her. He hadn’t changed his mind about making her face retribution.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath as the elevator doors closed around her.

She went down the elevator hand on her phone. Hovering over her contacts.

Should she tell Marissa. Should she come clean? Finally tell her wife everything? Rip off the bandage and take whatever fallout came next?

Or she could tell Sam, tell her of her husband and what he knew. What he would do, what he almost did.

Or she could run. Slide behind the wheel of her Corvette, peel out of the city, and disappear into the horizon. She’d done it before—run from expectations, from people, from herself. Maybe this time she wouldn’t come back.

She stepped out into the night, the chill air biting at her skin. The Astoria’s lobby gave way to the street like a portal back to real life. She walked briskly, head down, jaw tight.

But by the time she slid into the leather seat of her car, the decision had made itself.

She tapped the screen. Typed the words slowly, deliberately.

Olivia: Daniela knows. About us. About everything.

She stared at it for a second before hitting send.

Then she saw Samantha typing.

Samantha: …

In the end she couldn’t face Marissa. Perhaps it made her a coward.