Emily froze, listening. The man’s voice was too familiar. And when he said, quietly but with irritation, “What’ll you be like at forty?” her heart stopped. It was James’s favorite phrase, his way of ending arguments.
“No, it can’t be!” Emily closed her eyes, hoping she’d misheard. Panic surged.
“Ethan, I’ll be back soon,” she said, rushing off the balcony. She darted into the hallway, pressed the elevator button, but impatience sent her running down the stairs.
Ignoring propriety or sense, Emily pressed her ear to the neighbors’ door. The man’s tirade continued: “You think I’ll chase you? Where are you gonna go? Who’d put up with you for more than a month?”
“I don’t care, I’ve got plenty of options!” the woman shouted back.
“Go wherever you want!”
“You’ll regret this!” The door slammed open, and the woman stormed out.
Emily barely ducked around the corner to avoid being seen. The thought that her “dead” husband could be behind that door wouldn’t let go. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The plane, the mole, the voice—it all pointed to one thing. Or was it her imagination?
She stepped to a window at the hall’s end to compose herself. “What am I doing? Hiding, eavesdropping, stalking a stranger like I’m in a cheap thriller,” she scolded herself. Then the door opened again. The man stepped out. She averted her gaze but caught his reflection in the window. Her heart skipped—this profile, these movements…
Emily followed him. She trailed him down the stairs, keeping her distance. He headed to the hotel bar and sat at the counter, ordering a drink. “This is insane,” she thought, but something drove her forward. She took a seat nearby, pretending to sip a drink, every muscle focused on the man. She hoped the dim lighting would keep her unrecognized.
After a while, the alcohol seemed to loosen him. He suddenly turned to her: “Lady… tell me… why are women so complicated?”
Emily flinched. He was talking to her. His voice was achingly familiar, driving her to the edge.
“Complicated how?” she asked in a low voice, afraid to look up.
“Complicated… unpredictable,” he fumbled for words.
“You probably just fought with your girlfriend. Now you want someone to tell you you’re right.”
He paused, clearly struck by her words. “You’re sharp… female intuition? Go on, what do you mean?”
Emily sighed: “No one’s forcing you to chase young, naive girls. It’s your choice to cheat on smart, mature women. Then you complain that the young ones only want your money.”
“You read me like a book,” he chuckled. “But there’s this thing called hormones. They push us toward the young ones.”
“How convenient to blame hormones. Controlling instincts is what makes us human, not animals. Why the hormone excuse? But I’ve probably said too much.”
“No, it’s fine. I asked,” he agreed, ordering another drink and downing it quickly.
“I’m pretty buzzed already,” he admitted. “One more question?”
“Go ahead,” Emily nodded.
“You’re so smart—tell me, what do I do now?”
“No clue,” she shrugged. “Learn to control your instincts. But I bet your girlfriend will come back in a day or two. What you do with her then is up to you. I’m not a therapist.”
“Maybe I should dump her? You know, I feel like we’ve met before,” he said suddenly, studying her more closely. But the dim light hid her face.
Emily tensed, her heart racing. “I doubt it. First time here.”
“Your voice sounds so familiar,” he pressed, still staring.
“You’re probably mixing me up with someone,” she said quickly, realizing it was time to leave.
She called the elevator, struggling to manage the flood of emotions. Now she was certain—it was James. All doubts vanished. The mole, voice, mannerisms, gaze—everything matched perfectly. If she’d briefly considered he might be a brother or cousin, this conversation erased that. It was him, her dead husband, living a new life, dating other women, leaving her and Ethan behind.
She recalled how James got when he drank—not rowdy, just talkative. He was the same now, unchanged after three years. Only now, his partners came and went, and Emily was just a random stranger he chatted with.
What now? Confront him? Why? What would it change? But curiosity gnawed at her. Who else from their old circle knew he was alive? What name was he using, if he wasn’t on the flight manifest?
Emily saw two paths. First: accept that James was alive but no longer part of her life. Keep living, enjoy vacations, forget him forever. In a few years, she could tell Ethan his father didn’t die but left, and no one knows where he is.
Second: face James openly. But that meant hearing his excuses, maybe meeting his new girlfriend. The real risk was her own feelings—they might reignite. Mourning a dead husband was one thing; facing a liar and traitor was another. What love could remain for such a man?
The next day, Emily and Ethan headed to the beach. The weather had cleared, and they needed to grab good spots. At the hotel, the beach wasn’t too crowded, but sunny days filled up fast. In front of the mirror, Emily chose her outfit carefully: oversized sunglasses that nearly hid her face and a wide-brimmed hat. It wasn’t just sun protection—it was a shield against running into James. They could cross paths any moment.
Ready, she took Ethan’s hand, and they headed to the elevator. It took a while, as morning beachgoers filled the halls. The elevator stopped a floor below, and the doors opened. A woman with dyed hair stepped in—James’s companion. Her face was grim.
“How long was I supposed to wait? People pop out kids and hog the elevators,” she snapped irritably.
“Sorry, but the elevator’s for everyone, and we all wait the same,” Emily replied calmly.
“I don’t care how long you waited,” the woman shot back, glaring. “Dressed like an old lady and still complaining.”
Instead of snapping back, Emily covered Ethan’s ears and silently guided him to the ground floor.
The hotel lobby was bustling, and the woman quickly vanished into the crowd, to Emily’s relief. She was likely rushing to James, sparing an awkward encounter.
At the beach, Emily’s guess was confirmed. The woman was heading to James, who’d already claimed loungers for them. Unfortunately, the only free spots were nearby. There was no escaping the proximity, but Emily resolved not to let it ruin her vacation. She walked past, set up their things, and began applying sunscreen to Ethan as if nothing was wrong.
But drama wasn’t far off. The couple’s argument erupted almost immediately.
“Couldn’t you find a spot closer to the water?” the woman snapped.
“This was the closest available. To get waterfront, you’d need to wake up earlier, not sleep till noon,” James replied.
“Who’re you to talk? You were out drinking till 2 a.m.! I couldn’t sleep waiting for you, so I didn’t get up early,” she retorted.
“Reminder: you stormed out yesterday. How was I supposed to know you’d slink back in a few hours?”
“I’m doing you a favor by coming back, forgetting all your lies and nastiness!” she shouted. “How dare you talk to me like that? This hotel’s an insult! This place is awful! You know how long I waited for the elevator? Stuck with some single mom and her kid!”
The word “single mom” stung Emily. She bowed her head, trying to tune them out, but their voices carried.
“When will you stop being so bitter?” James asked quietly.
“And when will you stop being so pathetic? Look at yourself! Who do you even resemble?” she sneered.
Emily glanced up at James, curious about his appearance now. What she saw unsettled her. He looked pale, his eyes darted nervously, and his hands trembled, as if from exhaustion or illness. He seemed worn out, likely from the previous night’s drinking.