Chapter 4
Chapter four
Kelsey
Keeping up this facade is exhausting, playing happy families even more tedious.
Together, Ben and I work. We have a lovely home and beautiful children.
One hundred percent, the successful family to those looking from the outside.
We are what people envy. What they dream of being as young lovers, planning for their futures. And here I am dying of boredom.
We’re separated. I was the one who asked for it.
Like I had so many times before, using it as a threat.
I stood, watching him as the words left my lips, then waited for his U-turn.
For him to start begging not to do it for the girls, for all the years we’ve been together, and what we’ve achieved.
But this time, he didn’t argue. He just moved his things to the spare room without so much as a pushback.
And I panicked. I need to change tack to make him stay.
He thinks this baby was an accident. One reckless night and poor timing.
But it wasn’t, I made sure of that. I stopped taking the pill and never told him.
Because I wasn’t ready to let him go, not until I got my baby boy.
The last thing I wanted was two baby daddies, but I wasn’t willing to live with an incomplete family.
He pushed me into this with his demand that we have no more children.
I’ve worked hard for this life, and I intend to keep the benefits by any means necessary. That was the agreement. He would chase his career, and I would keep house, exactly as I wanted it. No matter how we feel now, I’m not prepared for that to change.
Thinking back to the beginning, when we were full of teenage hormones and couldn’t keep our hands off one another, our time was filled with stolen kisses and loved-up moments.
That initial lust was addictive. A drug, and I couldn’t get enough.
I was drunk on his obsession with me. The way he held my hand, kissed my cheek, and whispered tales of what our life would be like in my ear.
Between the ages of sixteen and twenty were the happiest years of my life. We studied hard, we were ambitious. The world stood no chance against us. Our path was mapped out; it could only go one way, and that was to follow the plan.
When we moved on to university, we lived separately, but didn’t grow apart.
We talked every day for hours and supported each other through our darkest days.
The hours were long and the experience hard, but it’s what we both needed.
When we met up, we laughed and made love, nurturing one another, feeding what was missing when we were apart.
It was our routine, both familiar and safe.
But familiarity doesn’t keep the fire alive, and it started to dwindle.
As trainee doctors and nurses, there was incredible pressure during our final year; the realization we’d soon be saving lives was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
I fed off the adrenaline of a shift in the emergency room.
That buzz you get when someone’s life was on the line, and you played your part in pulling them through.
Hooking up that essential IV line or administering CPR at the crucial moment. It fed my soul and my confidence.
It was during one of those shifts I met Sam, a newly qualified nurse on my team. He was tall with soft brown curls and the deepest hazel eyes. Sam had a kindness about him. When he spoke to our patients, it was with love and genuine consideration. It was the first time in months I felt truly seen.
Being a male nurse, he was in the minority. It was obvious as I got to know him, he was smart, and I asked him once why he nursed instead of being a doctor.
His answer caught me off guard – he wanted to be there, in the thick of it, forging real connections with the people he cared for. My heart melted. Sam believed doctors stood at a distance, while nurses stood with the people. I understood exactly what he meant.
Then one night in the emergency department, everything changed.
The ward alarm blared; a critical case was on the way.
We received sketchy details. All we knew was that a car had hit a young boy, aged five to eight, who had run into the road.
There were reports of multiple broken bones and a severe head injury.
The trolley slammed through the doors, and my team ran to meet it.
We worked like a well-oiled machine, doing whatever was necessary to save this child’s life, setting bones and taking scans as required.
After three hours, our patient was stable and settled in his room.
His small body looked tiny in the oversized hospital bed with one parent on either side, terrified to touch their son in case they inflicted pain on his delicate body.
I was exhausted and emotional. We almost lost him. His life was almost taken, far too young.
My mind wanders back to that night after my shift had finished, sitting in the staff room with my head in my hands. Tears flowed freely down my face. Ben was still working; I couldn’t call him, but I needed a hug.
As I shrugged into my coat, desperate to go home, Sam wandered into the room. His face fell the moment he saw me.
“We’re going for a drink,” he said. I didn’t argue, following him like a sheep. It was a relief for someone else to take control and distract my thoughts from what I’d just seen. The what-ifs were circling like gulls, and I couldn’t escape.
It was a short walk to the cozy little bar down the road.
We cracked open a bottle of red, going over our shift in minute detail, analyzing every decision made and the near misses.
Sam was witty and funny. He took my mind off my worries.
With another bottle of red down, our hands touched across the table.
A bolt of electricity ran through me. And the next thing I knew, I was straddling him, hands in his hair, and my tongue down his throat.
He pulled me to him; I ground against him, crazed with an explosion of need.
“Fuck, you taste as good as I imagined,” he muttered against my lips, and that only sent me further down the spiral. He wanted me. He’d imagined this. It was such a bloody turn on, so I kissed him harder, rocked deeper, and lost myself in the lunacy of lust.
The bar manager approached us, asked us to leave; that had brought me swiftly back to my senses.
I jumped from Sam’s lap and ran all the way home, cursing myself.
I heard him follow me out onto the street, shouting my name as my feet clattered off the pavement.
But I didn’t look back, I just kept running.
I guess I’d finally become the girl I never thought I would be. A cheat.
The next few weeks passed in a daze of guilt. I was angry at Ben for not being available when I needed him. I was furious with Sam for being so appealing. Most of all, I was enraged at my own recklessness.
Sam and I avoided each other at work, barely speaking. It was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. It was my first time feeling that way about another man. What young woman doesn’t have the odd crush? It’s only human.
But I fantasized about him every day. Thoughts of him crossed my mind at the most inappropriate times. I felt confused and doubted my relationship with Ben. I began to think about what life would be like without him. And I didn’t like it; it didn’t fit my plan.
Then we had another high-pressure case involving a child, but this time, we didn’t get a happy ending. I crumpled into a heap in the staffroom. Ben was unavailable again, another nightshift, another responsibility he had beyond me. Sam scooped me up and took me home.
We talked.
We cried.
We ended up in bed.
Perversely, I felt more alive than I had in years. Sam was the only person who got me. He was living the same life. We were dealing with the same cases, and ultimately, the same losses.
Ben was so busy, he barely noticed the nights I was home late or how many girls’ lunches I was going to.
I’m not sure who he thought I was out to lunch with, because I had no girlfriends except Bex and her sister, Amy.
Perhaps he was too preoccupied by the pressure of being a medical student, or maybe he just ignored it.
My dismissive thoughts cause a surge of guilt in my chest. Back then, all Ben thought about was work and us.
He would always talk about when we graduated, when we had a few years under our belt, when we could finally have this idyllic life he so craved.
So many dreams, and most of them we’ve achieved.
I suppose being with the same person since you were sixteen means you’re ready for more at a younger age. Well, some people are. At that point in my life, I was so confused.
Everything was charging along, and all the events I thought I wanted were happening. Life was progressing the way I had dreamed it would, but I wasn’t a hundred percent committed. I had doubts, and that terrified me. My affair was a medicinal tonic for my scrambled mind, and I drank often and deep.
Sam and I had become more brazen in our relationship, especially around work. Ben was based in the same hospital, but in a different department. We would occasionally grab lunch together when our shifts allowed, but most of the time, I was with my team, and he was with his doctor friends.
The divide between the trainee doctors and nurses was real. The doctors projected a sense of superiority, and we were just the nurses. This made me resentful of Ben. My anger boiled under the surface. I distanced myself from him and withdrew, especially in the bedroom.
Outside work, he was still the sweet and kind man I loved with all my heart, but inside work, he was one of them. I would sit with Sam at lunch, laugh loudly at his jokes, and touch his hand at any opportunity. We would grab any private moments to steal a kiss.