Wheels pulled down the hallway. The sound of the handle retracting back down. Footsteps thudded, almost as loud as her heart in her ears.

Alec entered the kitchen and didn’t even notice her. He pulled open the fridge door. A beer fizzed open, and finally he turned, beer pausing at his mouth when he saw her.

He lowered the bottle down onto the kitchen bench. “Hi.”

Cora swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Hi.”

They stared at each other, and Cora felt guilt creep across her chest. Alec looked rumpled, his clothes obviously pulled from his suitcase that morning and deemed plane appropriate. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his hair had an uncombed look.

He’d dressed expecting discussions at home. Not expecting to find out his wife had slept with someone else.

He looked like she loved him to look, and in the end, Cora blinked rapidly, hoping it would ease the burning in her eyes. The dent on the table seemed huge. Metres wide instead of an inch long.

Remembering she wasn’t supposed to be staring at it, she gazed at a spot on Alec’s face that wasn’t his eyes but close enough that she wasn’t not looking at him. “Hi,” she said again.

Alec tugged at his tie and pulled it over his head. It looped around his hand and he dropped it next to his beer, rolled up just like the one upstairs. Beer in hand, he sat on the step that led to the sunken lounge room.

“How was your week?” he asked.

“Fine.” Fine? “How was yours?”

“Stressful. I half expected divorce papers in my inbox all week.”

“Oh.”

He picked at the label of his beer. Took a sip. His foot rested right next to where the wine had stained the carpet.

Cora had cheated on her husband. For a moment, she thought she was going to vomit again. Everything between them had been messy. Uncomfortable. But they were still married. So what if she had mentioned she wanted it? The words had tumbled out right before he got on a plane, no discussion, no closure. They hadn’t settled anything.

“Don’t leave, Cora.”

The words were quiet. Husky. As if he’d held them in for days and days and they only now had managed to creep out.

She looked up sharply. “Why?”

They weren’t happy. Were they? Her eyes darted to the dent again. Back to his face. All she felt was guilt. Like a fog had settled and covered everything else that had been there.

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t. You’ll destroy everything I’ve worked for.” He was staring at the ground, shoulders slumped. His fingers continued to pick at the label.

Couldn’t she? No she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that. Not that, too. Not after cheating on him.