Her Husband Cheated… Now It’s Her Turn

Aisha eyed off the man on the court.

He was fit for an older guy. Clean-shaven, though grey hairs were just visible under his cap. His body moved with a grace and speed many couldn’t match — though Ayisha knew from gossip that was because of the hours put into practice since his wife died. It seemed to be the one thing that kept him going.

She could relate to that.

He glanced up, caught her eye, nodded.

Aisha turned away, embarrassed to be caught watching. When she looked back his gaze was still on her, until his friend called from across the court and he was forced to give his attention back to their game.

They finished their match, and moved off court, Aisha and her friend stepping down to take their turn. The man caught her eye, smiled. There was still a sadness there, but Aisha sensed a peace she hadn’t noticed in their past interactions, and for a moment wished she could reach out and give him a hug.

She nodded a hello instead. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. She had a husband she was trying to fix things with.

She turned her focus to her game, serving the ball, thwacking it back and forth across the net. It felt good to be here, muscles moving and stretching, mind caught in the moment, and not the nonsense of what her husband may or may not be up to while she was here.

It wasn’t until they’d finished their session she realised the man had stayed behind to watch.

“You’ve got good form,” he complimented her. “Did you ever compete?”

She found herself blushing. How ridiculous. “I just enjoy the game.”

“I’m John.” His gaze held hers. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

“I have a husband.”

“Are you not allowed male friends? Is he likely to beat me for talking to you?”

“No.” She laughed. That idea was ludicrous. “He’d probably appreciate it, actually. Pretty certain he wants rid of me.”

She cringed. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt about her situation.

His smile turned into a frown. “Rid of you? An attractive, intelligent, gorgeous woman like yourself? Surely not!”

She shrugged. Now she’d started the conversation she found she was glad to be getting it off her chest. “He had an affair. Lasted several years. She’s the only one I know about, but she claims there were more before her that he’d told her about. He says it was all a story, but who knows what’s true.”

“And you’re still with him?”

“We’ve been together thirty years.”

“That doesn’t seem a reason to stay.”

“Who else is going to want me? I’m old, I have no income, nothing to make me appealing to another man.”

He shook his head. “I know we’ve barely interacted in the past, but from what I’ve seen of you you’re a gorgeous, intelligent, amazing woman. And impressive with a racket. Your husband is insane. I’d gladly have you.”

He seemed genuine. And when she met his gaze, her heart gave a flutter.

It had been so long since her heart had fluttered over anything.

“So,” she said. “You wanted to buy me a coffee?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling, and he held out an arm. “Shall we?”

Coffee turned into dinner, which turned into wine and dessert at his place. She’d never been so reckless.

His house was gorgeous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a manicured garden, and beyond that, a glittering bay. There were polished floorboards, a spa in the guest room, and kitchen that was clean and sleek, everything she’d always wanted for herself.

His lounge room could have fit their whole apartment inside.

Still, she wasn’t going to marry someone for their money.

A picture of him with a smiling woman sat on the mantle.

“Your wife?” It seemed such a ridiculous question to ask, but he nodded.

Aisha accepted the glass of wine he offered. “You must miss her.”

He gave a soft smile. “Every single day. It’s been over a year now. I don’t know how that time passed. But I know she’s still with me. I see her in the swallows that nest under our eaves —” He pointed to a pair, swopping in and out, “and the roses she planted while she was still alive.” He turned to Aisha. “And you.”

“Me?” Aisha laughed. “How does that work?”

“May was never really into tennis. She was so uncoordinated. Could never get the hang of it.” He gave a low chuckle, and a warmth spread through Aishia’s chest. “When we learned her situation was terminal, she would come and watch. She saw you. Said she knew you and I would be a perfect match. Said she’d set us up, somehow, when she’d passed.” Now he chuckled. “I saw how devastated you were last year. I didn’t know why. I wondered if you’d lost your husband as I did my wife.” He gazed on her with such respect. “I am in awe that you stuck with your husband like that. That you had the strength to do that. To try to fix things when he treated you so poorly.” He reached out a hand. “But you don’t look any happier than you did then. I know we’ve only just properly met, and I really shouldn’t pry, but are things actually getting better?”

Tears threatened and Aishia glanced down at her wine, her hair coming falling over her face. “He was still in contact with her, for a long time. She’s cut things off now, so he says, but I don’t know. Maybe they’re still talking behind my back. I can’t trust him. Our counsellor says it takes time, but it’s been two years now. How much more time does it take?”

John brushed her hair behind her ears. “You could give him time. Or you could give us a go, and see what happens? See if my crazy wife is right about any of this.”

Aisha looked up to meet his gaze. There was such tenderness there, and she knew, without a doubt, she could trust this man. Without thinking, she pushed herself up on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.

His hand dropped to her shoulder, and he kissed back, sparks flying as she parted her lips and their tongues met.

“Stay with me for a night, see what happens?” His voice was husky, and Aisha responded by pulling him closer, pressing her hips against his.

Her husband had had all the fun, and paid none of the consequences. Now it was her turn.

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