Hongmei retreated into the shadows. So Glen was meeting his students here. Not a good idea, bantering with them like this. Their laughter sounded tense. Glen made more jokes, but these landed even less well. They started talking about schoolwork, and Glen grew more natural. Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, O’Neill, Poe, Lowry—geniuses who had succumbed to alcohol. Not just more natural, he was aglow. Hongmei almost forgot this was her husband. She’d never seen him so animated before. The candle on the table gave him a classical profile. It appeared his eyes could easily turn romantic.

The students asked their professor to please speak more slowly so they could take notes.

Hongmei thought these two young girls were already captivated by Glen, though he wasn’t doing it on purpose. The angle of the wall cut them off from view, so she could stand there eavesdropping freely, listening as Glen imparted his knowledge, humor, and charisma to these students, as well as a subtle sensuality. Sexual tension was solidifying over their heads, creating a current that sent sparks flying. Hongmei envied those girls a little.

Someone burst out of the bathroom, almost crashing into her. They said sorry at the same time, then stood staring at each other.

Hongmei slipped out of the Blue Danube’s back door, having inadvertently proven her supposition: Doesn’t everyone live within a triangular relationship? Whether real or fake. She walked through the rain, sprinting ahead like a startled bird. Glen must be keeping an eye on her. Even she was finding her behavior over the last few days suspicious.

Then she stopped abruptly, standing in the school field as the rain poured down on her. She remembered the man who’d come out of the bathroom. He’d smiled at her as he’d apologized. That wasn’t a stranger’s smile. He was in his forties, sure, just as he’d described himself, not too tall, but well built and proportioned. Dressed in a black lambswool sweater with a high collar that showed off his physique—he probably enjoyed tennis or swimming. His movements were still somewhat boyish, although his hair was starting to go gray. She hesitated, wondering if she ought to go back. But what would she say to Glen? That she was meeting her online lover? She turned to glance at the bustling coffee shop, but her feet didn’t move. Their eyes had met, yes, and the description matched. His mouth had opened, as if to speak. She thought that he must be the sort of man who seldom said anything but had a lot of words inside.