Weeks had passed since Maria's wedding, and Vincent had done his best to convince himself that their connection had reached its end. He threw himself into his work, took on new projects, and tried to invest more time in his family. But no matter how many contracts he signed, or how many hours he spent in meetings, thoughts of Maria lingered like a shadow, hovering just out of sight. They haunted him in the quiet moments, the early mornings before the world stirred, and the late nights when his mind refused to quiet itself. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something unfinished between them, something unresolved, even though logic screamed otherwise.
It wasn't that he didn't try to move on. He had attempted to bury his feelings, to pretend that the years they had spent together were nothing more than a fleeting chapter in a book that had already been closed. And for a while, it seemed to work. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, he realized that some connections didn't fade with time, no matter how hard you tried to outrun them.
The first time Maria called after the wedding, it was nearly midnight. Vincent had been sitting in his home office, staring at a pile of contracts he'd been pretending to care about for hours. He was physically exhausted, but mentally, he was elsewhere—lost in thoughts of her. The shrill buzz of his phone startled him, and when he saw her name flash across the screen, his heart skipped a beat.
For a moment, he considered ignoring it. After all, what could they possibly have to say to each other now? Maria was married, and Vincent had long ago decided that their paths had diverged permanently. But curiosity, and something deeper that he wasn't ready to face, compelled him to answer.
"Maria," he said, his voice guarded, a part of him already preparing for the conversation he was about to have.
"Vincent," she replied, her voice as calm as ever, though he could detect the faintest tremor beneath it. "Are you busy?"
He glanced at the paperwork on his desk, his fingers lingering on the edges of the papers as if they could provide him some semblance of stability. "Not really. What's on your mind?"
There was a long pause before she spoke again, and when she did, her words felt heavy, laden with something he couldn't quite place. "I needed to hear your voice."
Her words hung in the air, charged with an intimacy that belied her marital status. Vincent leaned back in his chair, the weight of her admission pressing against him, making it difficult to breathe. He hadn't expected this—hadn't expected that she would still reach out, still want to keep some part of their connection alive. But there it was.
"That's dangerous, Maria," he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. He wasn't sure if he was trying to warn her or himself.
"Is it?" she challenged, her tone sharper now, a hint of defiance that brought him back to the times when their conversations had always been filled with a subtle power struggle. "You were part of my life for years, Vincent. I don't see why that has to change just because I got married."
Her words stung more than he expected, and he felt a twinge of bitterness rise in his chest. "You're someone's wife now," he reminded her, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. He had no right to feel this way, but it was as if she had crossed some invisible line, and he was still reeling from the impact.
"And you're someone's husband," she replied without hesitation. "That's never stopped us before."
Vincent's chest tightened at her words. She was right, of course. Their affair had never adhered to any rules, any boundaries, not from the very beginning. Their connection had always been an all-consuming force, and it seemed neither of them was capable of fully letting go.
In the weeks that followed, the calls became more frequent. At first, they were sporadic—late-night conversations filled with half-truths and unspoken feelings. But as the weeks turned into months, their communication took on a rhythm of its own, something neither of them could stop. It was as if their bond had evolved into something new, something that defied explanation.
They never met in person. Maria insisted on maintaining a boundary between them, a self-imposed rule meant to preserve the fragile balance of her new life. She had married Daniel, and she had made her commitment to him, but that didn't mean she could sever the emotional ties she had with Vincent. It was a complicated dance, one that they both performed with an unspoken understanding that neither would cross the line into physical intimacy again.
Vincent didn't push. He couldn't. Even though he found himself craving her presence in a way that unsettled him, he respected the boundaries Maria had set. There was something intoxicating about these late-night conversations, something that kept him coming back for more. But every time they spoke, a part of him was terrified that he would lose control—lose the distance that he had so carefully constructed between himself and the past.
Their conversations were a strange mix of the mundane and the profound. They talked about work, about the challenges of managing relationships, about the things they missed most about each other. They laughed about trivial things—the absurdity of certain office politics, the latest scandal in their social circles—and yet, there were moments when the silence between them felt charged, filled with things left unsaid.
Maria never spoke of Daniel directly, and Vincent rarely mentioned his wife. It was as if their respective marriages existed in a parallel universe, one they chose to ignore whenever they were together—even if only over the phone. They had their own world, a space where they could reconnect without the constraints of reality intruding.
But that world was fragile, and Maria's occasional bursts of vulnerability were enough to remind Vincent of just how delicate their arrangement was. One evening, she called him in tears. Vincent's heart clenched at the sound of her voice, the rawness of her emotion cutting through the veneer of their previous conversations.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his concern genuine, even though a part of him feared the emotional weight of what she might say.
"It's nothing," she replied, but her shaky breath betrayed her, and he knew better than to believe her. "I just… I feel so alone sometimes."
Vincent was silent for a moment, struggling to find the right words. He knew he should tell her that everything would be okay, that she wasn't alone. But he also knew that those words would ring hollow. The truth was more complicated than that.
"You're not alone, Maria," he said softly, trying to offer some comfort, even if it wasn't enough. "You have Daniel."
Her bitter laugh echoed through the line, sharp and jagged. "Do I? He doesn't really know me, Vincent. Not like you do."
Vincent felt a flicker of satisfaction at her words, though he quickly tamped it down. This wasn't a victory. It was a reminder of how much had been left unresolved between them. "That's not fair to him," he replied, his voice low, trying to push down the flicker of resentment he felt at being the one she turned to.
"Maybe not," she admitted. "But it's the truth."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, Vincent didn't know what to say. But Maria wasn't finished.
"Daniel wants kids," she said one night, her voice distant.
"And you don't?" Vincent asked, though he wasn't sure why he bothered. He already knew the answer.
"It's not that simple," she replied. "I don't know if I want to bring a child into a life that feels so... incomplete."
Vincent didn't know how to respond. Maria's words were a mirror to his own unspoken fears about his marriage. He had tried to ignore the growing sense of dissatisfaction in his own life, but her words echoed in his mind, forcing him to confront the emptiness he had tried so hard to bury.
Their relationship took on a new dynamic—a connection that was no longer physical but still deeply intimate. They were two souls tethered by a history neither could fully let go of, even as they tried to navigate their separate lives. But as time went on, Vincent began to question the sustainability of their arrangement. Could they continue like this indefinitely, tied to each other by a connection they couldn't fully explain or escape?
Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in his tone, the slight distance that had begun to grow between them. One evening, she made a suggestion that caught him off guard.
"You need someone who can give you what I can't," she said, her voice firm but gentle, as though she had already made peace with the idea. "You need to move on, Vincent."
"And you think you get to decide that for me?" he challenged, though a part of him knew she was right. They were both trapped in a cycle that neither could break free from.
"It's not about deciding for you," she replied, her voice softer now. "It's about helping you move forward."
Maria introduced him to Clara, a friend from work, someone who seemed perfectly suited for him. Clara was everything Maria wasn't—soft-spoken, predictable, easy to please. Vincent found her charming enough, but the spark he shared with Maria was glaringly absent. The connection, the depth of feeling, simply wasn't there.
Their brief relationship was a disaster. Clara was kind, but she couldn't fill the void Maria had left behind. Vincent couldn't help but compare every gesture, every word, every touch, to what he had once shared with Maria. In the end, it was inevitable. He ended things with Clara, though the breakup left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I knew it wouldn't work," Maria said when he told her. Her voice was tinged with regret, but there was something else there—something that made Vincent wonder whether she had been hoping for this outcome all along.
"Then why did you set us up?" he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
"Because I thought it might help," she replied. "I was wrong."
The emotional distance between Vincent and Maria began to close once again, their bond deepening despite their best efforts to sever it. They became each other's confidants, their conversations a lifeline in the chaos of their respective lives. But as time went on, Vincent began to question the sustainability of their arrangement. Could they continue like this indefinitely, tied to each other by a connection they couldn't fully explain or escape? And what would happen when the fragile line between emotional intimacy and physical temptation was crossed once again?
In the quiet moments, Vincent found himself wondering how much longer they could live in this strange space between friendship and something more. And as the days wore on, he couldn't shake the feeling that the next step in their story—whatever it might be—was inevitable.