Chapter 3
Ronin felt like the world had slowed to half speed.
For two years, his two lives had run in parallel lines—never touching, never threatening to intersect. The first ripple had come when they had unexpectedly run into David at the mall. And now, without warning, they had collided in the most public, unprepared-for way imaginable.
Dazed, he looked at the woman who, in his mind, if not on paper, was his wife.
Sage was looking at him, her gaze unblinking and glassy with shock.
Her brown hair was a little mussed, strands escaping around her face.
They'd decided years ago it would be best for her to quit her job in his company and stay at home.
She'd put on a little weight around the hips, her belly had never been quite the same after she'd had David.
And that was fine with him—he'd never minded—but it struck him, with a sudden pang he couldn't name, that he hadn't really seen her in a long time.
Not beyond the blurred glimpses between meetings, phone calls, and over the glow of his laptop screen.
The hurried dinners and occasional cursory matings.
Everything about Sage was soft. She had been the most loving partner.
But about two years ago, her moods had started to swing without any warning.
There were days she wouldn't get out of bed.
He'd tried to be patient, but his work demanded so much.
His company was an e-commerce platform that connected merchants with payment service providers, a start-up now valued at ￡8.
6 billion, headquartered in Bristol. The pace and pressure was relentless.
She managed the house, David's school and football activities, and acted as hostess while he made the money. That was the deal, wasn't it?
When they had sex, it felt perfunctory, lights off.
He knew she was conscious of her weight and looking back, he didn’t do much to make her feel better about herself because life got so busy.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked into her eyes in those moments.
It had all started to feel like a life on a hamster wheel right about the time David started secondary school.
Her eyes were the softest dove-grey, and in a certain light, they turned into molten silver. Now they were blank and dull, filled with a raw emotion so brutal, he had to look away. For a moment, she looked like a defenceless child, abandoned by those who should have protected her.
He'd met Amanda at a convention two and a half years ago, and she seemed to pull all the air out of the room with her presence.
Gorgeous blonde curls, deep dark eyes, a charisma that made heads turn.
He admired her beauty, her fire. She'd moved to Bristol for work, and applied for a job at his company.
She was a friend of a cousin, and he'd actually met her once before—years ago, when David was still a child and she'd visited his house.
They'd grown close quickly. Amanda was married, but her husband was negligent, sometimes abusive. Ronin remembered the first time he saw the faint bruises on her arm and how something in him had clicked into protector mode. But she always went back to that man.
The first time things happened was on a group business trip, and he'd regretted it afterwards. They were celebrating a contract signed and they had stayed on in the bar, chatting about life and choices. He hadn’t pushed her away when she pulled him into her room or when she dropped down to her knees and reached for his zipper.
He had allowed her to pull his boxers down and take him into her mouth.
He had promised himself that it was a onetime thing and Sage never had to find out.
But two months later, when Sage was in the grip of another bad spell and he was drowning in work stress, it had happened again.
Over the months that followed, it happened nine times.
He started telling himself he was in love.
That what he had with Sage was the affection that came with all the ways she had been a friend to him and supported him through the years.
Once, he'd thought about telling Sage the truth about a year into the affair.
He'd come home to find her reading to David while he played on his Xbox, the smell of his favourite pot roast filling the house.
She had stopped midsentence and their eyes had held for a long moment before she blushed and looked away.
They'd made love that night. He'd decided then that he couldn't lose her.
But Amanda had a way of drawing him back. She'd sat there as he stammered his way through a breakup conversation. She had looked at him uncomprehendingly with her big dark eyes. Then she had whispered that she was pregnant and broken down as she swore it was his. And things had started to unravel.
Now, here they were, with Sage sitting across from them, and he knew the time of reckoning had was upon him.
He could hear himself speaking before he'd even formed the words in his head.
"Sage...what are you doing here? This is Amanda.
.. She's...a friend." The explanations kept spilling out, clumsy, stuttering and half-formed as his ears buzzed.
He wasn't really choosing what to say, just filling the space with noise.
Something about working together, something about a misunderstanding.
He was only half aware of what he was saying, his voice sounding far away.
And then Sage looked down.
He followed her gaze, just in time to see Amanda's pale fingers move across the white tablecloth until they rested over his darker hand. The touch was light and warm against his cold knuckles, but there was nothing casual in the meaning. It was a claim, a simple gesture of possession.
A gold wedding band glinted faintly on Amanda's finger.
Something flickered in Sage's eyes—pain, sharp and quick—before her eyes turned hollow again.
And for a second, Amanda's lovely face was not so lovely anymore. There was an expression there he had never seen before. There was fear and...excitement before the softness returned.
Sage did not say a word. She just quietly left.
He pulled his hand back and looked down at the table. The silence was thick, almost tangible. Amanda cleared her throat softly. "It's for the best," she whispered. "She had to know."
Ronin's eyes stayed on the white linen. He reached into his pocket, took some money from his wallet, and set it on the table. "I have to go," he said quietly as he slipped away.
Ronin's hands tightened on the wheel to keep them from shaking on his drive home.
His shirt was sticking to his back in patches, and the chill was seeping into his skin.
The collision of his worlds had happened, and now his mind darted in sharp, panicked bursts.
What would Sage do? In her state of mind, would she do something foolish? The thought made his throat close up.
In a moment of clarity, he knew he didn't want them to end. He had been infatuated with Amanda, but Sage was a part of him. And he couldn't let her go.
When he pulled into the drive and walked into the boot room, something in his chest unclenched at the sight of her shoes.
She was home. He opened the door after hanging his coat, trying not to make a sound.
The house was Sage's labour of love. Every corner, every room was decorated by her.
It was warm and cozy with earthy colours and well-made, carefully chosen pieces of furniture.
Inside, he found her sitting at the kitchen island. Her posture struck him first; not the straight-backed pose his mother used to insist on, often reminding her to "sit properly," but bent forward, small and slouched, like the weight on her back was more than she could bear.
He crossed the room and slowly sat opposite her, waiting and silently pleading for her to look at him. When she finally did, her clear eyes were dull, and after a moment, they dropped again, as if her thumb had suddenly become more interesting than anything he could possibly say.
And then he was speaking again, words tumbling out before he could choose them: explanations, excuses, fragments of the truth mixed with softer lies. He didn't know what he was saying, only that the silence between them was unbearable.
Then, there was the tap-tap of footsteps, and David came around the corner.
Ronin watched Sage's face closely as she tried to absorb what David was saying. The confusion in her eyes flickered to hurt, then to something deeper, like her heart was breaking. He watched the sliver of light in her eyes fade and die.
Her breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. Ronin saw the way her fingers curled against her leg, how her lips parted but no sound came.
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing in from all sides. Sage just stared at David—her own son—as if she were trying to reconcile the words with the boy she'd raised.
"She's nice. If Dad's happy with her..."
Ronin didn't need to look at her to know the damage was done.
He saw it in the way her posture collapsed, in the way her eyes dimmed completely, as though whatever fragile scaffolding she'd been leaning on had just been kicked out from under her.
It was like watching someone's back break without a sound.