A shocking Encouter

Chapter Two: A Shocking Encounter

I’m busy scrubbing the kitchen floor, lost in the mundane rhythm of my chores, when the front door swings open. Noah's footsteps resonate through, and my heart tightens.

He walks in with a man I recognize instantly: one I instantly know: Elvis, my high school boyfriend.

The second his eyes connect with mine, it's like a floodgate opens—shock, panic, a flicker of something long buried. My heart races, but I force my face into a mask, pretending I haven’t just seen the guy who once owned my heart.

“Rachel” Noah calls out, “You should be in the bedroom waiting for me now. What are you still doing?”

“I am inside cleaning, and you came back very early today” I say shaking the

“What have you been doing since morning? Sleeping? Eating?”

“No” I say, shaking, “I am cooking for you”

“Enough of the excuse, go to the bedroom, now!

I feel a surge of resentment along with obedience, nodding. Turning toward the bedroom, I steal another glance at Elvis. There was recognition in his eyes, threaded from surprise with something much more complicated-perhaps regret.

"Go ahead," he says quietly, the volume of his voice low enough for only me to hear. "I'll be here when you're done."

I take a deep breath, competition between duty towards my husband and the unresolved feelings that bubble beneath the surface. I push the door to the bedroom open, and before I can step inside, Noah's phone rings.

"I'll take this upstairs," he mutters, striding out of the room, leaving Elvis and me alone in the silence of the air that's now thick with tension. "I didn't expect to see you here," he says finally, his eyes searching mine. "I didn't either," I say, trying to hold my cool. "What are you doing with Noah?"

“I work as his secretary,” he says, sharply. “And are you married to him or you are his personal maid?”

“Maid? Do I look like his maid? Will he f

tell his maid to wait for him on the bed”

“Sorry, I don't mean it that way. I had no idea he's married to you, can I get your new number?”

A load of our shared past hangs between us. Memories are surging in-my mind, the laughter, the secrets, the dreams we once shared. "This isn't a good idea," I say, my heart racing. "Noah can't find out.

Elvis leans in, serious in his eyes. "In case you wanna call," he insists. "I'm worried about you.

I hesitate, look to the door as if expecting Noah to walk back in at any moment. "I shouldn't," I whisper, my heart torn between the safety of my marriage and the enticement of reconnecting with someone who meant so much to me a long time ago.

“Rachel, I didn't like the state I meet you at all” he says, “I just want to know if you are alright”

Our fingers brush as he hands me his phone, and for a second, the air feels thick with something dangerous. I enter my number, my hands trembling. This is wrong, but I can’t stop myself.

"Thank you," he says, relief washing over his face. "I'll get in touch.".

Suddenly, I heard Noah's footsteps, returning downstairs. My heart was filled with panic. "You need to go," I whisper urgently, my heart pounding in my chest.

Elvis takes a step backwards, “Be safe, Rachel” he says softly.

Nolan walks back into the room, his face etched with annoyance, “Why are you not in the room yet? What are you still doing here?”

"Yes, I was just about to…" I stammer, “I thought you said I should wait here”

"When was that?” He says. “Just do what I said you should do, don't waste time here" he scowls, irritated, passing me and heading directly for the bedroom.

I let out a deep breath and try to shake this whirlwind of emotions from my encounter with Elvis. As I follow Noah, I have this huge feeling of loss and confusion in my head. I look back at the door, knowing this found moment that I had with Elvis stirred something inside me, something I thought I'd long buried.

I stepped into the bedroom, and the walls closed in even more. My choices and where they had gotten me. I couldn't remember feeling trapped this much before, while that silent scream echoed in my mind.

Elvis is here, with all the memories of who I used to be and who I could have become. Now, in this gilded cage called my marriage, I wonder if I will ever be free. There, at least.