By late Friday afternoon, the office had thinned, tension softened by the promise of two days free of meetings, reports, and fluorescent lights. Someone had floated the idea of “a quick one” at the pub — the same one as always, two streets away, like a ritual.

Jenny hadn’t confirmed. Neither had Alex.

But Carole had been quick to suggest it out loud.

“I could murder a gin and tonic,” she said, stretching theatrically as she slid on her jacket. “Come on, you two — join me. If we don’t go, Neil will order the wrong crisps again.”

Alex had glanced at Jenny, the briefest flicker of hesitation passing between them.

She’d smiled. “One drink won’t kill us.”

Carole beamed. “Excellent. My chair.”

It was busier than usual — end-of-week city buzz mixed with the warmth of a London Spring evening. They found a corner table, half in shadow, and huddled around it. Alex had positioned himself at the side of the table this time, no longer wanting to be head man. Clearly less at ease with the tight space and the gentle brush of Carole’s arm against his.

Jenny was tucked at the other end, cross-legged, one hand loosely holding her drink, the other fiddling idly with her phone. She didn’t look anxious — just… patient.

Carole, meanwhile, was talking. 

Nothing of note. Stories about other people in other departments. “Did you hear?” moments and harmless gripes about team leads. Alex nodded where appropriate, but his eyes drifted toward Jenny often — subtle, brief. But not lost on her.  

She caught one look and raised her glass slightly in response.  

He nearly choked on his beer. 

After twenty minutes, Jenny shifted forward and grabbed her bag.

“Excuse me,” she said, rising smoothly. “Ladies’. Back in a sec.”

Carole barely glanced up. “You’re not missing much. Just me dragging Alex through the future intentions gossip minefield.”  

Jenny’s smile was quick, polite. “Then I’ll walk slowly.”

She disappeared around the corner, heels clicking against the worn wood floor.

Alex waited exactly one minute before standing.

“Be right back,” he said, tapping his glass. “Gents calling.”

Carole watched him go with a faint frown, then turned back to her drink.

Jenny was already waiting in the corridor between the restrooms, tucked into the shadow of a doorway.

“Did she notice?” she asked.

Alex grinned. “If she did, she’s pretending not to.”

Jenny slipped her arm through his, already pulling him down the side corridor toward the rear exit. “Then we’ve got a head start.”

They emerged into the cool air behind the pub, the dull thud of music and chatter still audible through the walls. Jenny’s laugh broke the silence, bright and wicked.

“She thinks she’s supervising us.”

“She thinks she’s in the way,” Alex corrected, unlocking his car with a quiet beep. “But really? She’s the excuse we needed.”

They slid inside, and for a moment neither spoke — the space between them stretching wide with anticipation.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, finally, turning the key.

Jenny turned her head, eyes catching his in the low light.

“I want the whole weekend.”

That was all he needed.

Carole looked up from her gin and tonic fifteen minutes later and frowned.

Still no Jenny.

Still no Alex.

She checked her phone. No texts. No missed calls.

She sipped, scanned the bar again, and gave a quiet sigh.

They hadn’t said goodbye.

But they’d definitely said something.

Alex’s flat was in Wandsworth — a modern place, clean lines, big windows, too many things placed just so. But it felt lived in. Comfortable. And when he unlocked the door and held it open for her, Jenny didn’t hesitate.

She stepped inside like she’d already been there once in a dream.

The door closed behind them with a quiet click, and that was it.

The night was theirs.

He offered her wine. She took his hand instead.

“No delay this time,” she said softly.

He smiled, almost reverent. “Not a chance.”

Their clothes trailed behind them like breadcrumbs — jacket on the stairs, her shoes left by the kitchen, his shirt hanging from a hallway chair.

By the time they reached the bedroom, there was no awkwardness. No nerves.

Just hands and heat and the slow, addictive weight of certainty.

Alex kissed her like he’d been waiting all week.

Jenny kissed him like she planned to take her time.

Back at the pub, Carole watched the entrance for a while longer, then drained her glass.

She wasn’t stupid.

She’d read the signs. The smiles. The missing seconds. The hand brushing a hair back when they thought no one noticed.

But still — she thought she might’ve had one more chance.

She pulled out her phone, checked a few apps she wasn’t really paying attention to, then stood. Left a twenty-pound note on the table. Walked out without a word.

The air was cooler now.

And she was suddenly tired of pretending.

Meanwhile, at Alex’s flat, Jenny lay in his bed, propped on one elbow, tracing her fingers slowly across his bare chest.

“You know,” she whispered, “she’ll know by Monday.”

Alex smiled, eyes closed, hand resting on the curve of her thigh. “She knew by Friday.”

Jenny laughed, low and warm, and leaned in to kiss him again — long and slow.

They had two whole days.

And she planned to use every second. 

The weekend passed in a blur of heat, soft sheets, quiet breakfasts, and the kind of closeness Jenny hadn’t expected to feel so soon. There had been laughter. Lazy kisses. A stolen trip to the park. Takeout eaten cross-legged on the floor. Nothing extravagant — just good.

By Sunday night, Alex had kissed her forehead as she slipped into her taxi and whispered, “Same time next weekend?”

She’d nodded.

Monday arrived like a slap.

Back to shared air-conditioning and passive-aggressive calendar invites.

Carole was the first to speak.

“Quiet weekend?” she asked Jenny, her tone smooth, almost bored. “You didn’t come back after drinks.”

Jenny shrugged. “Needed an early night.”

Carole sipped her coffee. “Alex seemed refreshed too. Funny, that.”

Jenny just smiled.

Let her wonder. 

The week went by with routine, mundane office work, Alex, noticeably missing, seemed to be with the top management most of the time.

Carol asked Jenny if she knew what was going on; she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on, thankful for the break in attention.

The Following Saturday

Jenny stood outside Alex’s flat with a bottle of wine under her arm and a smile already forming. She hadn’t warned him she was coming. They’d agreed on another weekend together, and he’d left her with a key. A real one. No excuses.

She let herself in quietly, pleased by the small thrill of it. The flat was warm, music humming gently from the radio in the kitchen. She slipped her coat off, already picturing the way his face would light up when he saw her.

Then she froze.

A woman, younger than Jenny by several years, strolled into view from the hallway. Dark hair. Long legs. Wearing only a long white shirt and, clearly, nothing but knickers underneath.

Jenny’s mouth went dry.

The woman paused mid-step, equally startled, clutching a mug in both hands.

“Oh—hi?” she said, blinking.

Alex appeared from behind her, dressed in old tracksuit bottoms and a threadbare jumper, rubbing his eyes.

“Jenny?” he said, startled.

Jenny stared between them — the half-dressed girl, the casual clothes, the comfortable domesticity.

Her stomach dropped.

“I—sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t realise... I thought you were alone.”

She half turned, tears welling up in her eyes.

The girl’s eyes widened. “Wait—are you Jenny?”

Alex stepped forward instantly, holding out a hand. “It’s not what you think.”

Jenny’s mouth twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. “Really? Because what I think is that you’ve had someone else in your bed less than a week after—”

“Jesus, no,” the woman interrupted, stepping forward. “I’m his sister.”

Jenny blinked.

Alex winced. “She showed up late last night. Long story.”

The woman extended her hand. “I’m Samantha. You’re... wow, you’re even prettier than he said.”

Jenny stared for a second longer, then reached out slowly and shook her hand, soft and warming against Jenny’s cold fingers. 

“I’m—sorry,” Jenny said quietly, eyes flicking to Alex. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“No one was,” he said gently, stepping in. “Her husband’s been a piece of shit. She needed somewhere to go.”

Samantha made a noise of agreement and took another sip from her mug. “Walked in on him, sorry, I had nowhere to go.”

Jenny gave a short, stunned laugh despite herself.

Alex looked at her, his eyes full of apology. “I should’ve texted.”

Jenny exhaled, still processing. “You think?”

He stepped forward, brushing his fingers against hers. “Come in. Please.”

Jenny hesitated. Then nodded.

The three of them sat on the sofa with coffee. Samantha was charming and chatty — equal parts humour and heartbreak. She didn’t seem fazed by Jenny’s presence, even when she ducked into the loo and left them alone.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said again, voice low.

Jenny sighed. “I thought you’d moved on. Replaced me.”

“With my sister?”

“Well, you do have a type,” she teased.

He smiled and leaned in. “I like bold blondes with killer smirks. That hasn’t changed.”

Jenny looked at him, soft now. “You really should’ve messaged.”

“I panicked,” he said. “Didn’t want to explain over text.”

She nodded slowly. “Next time, I want to know.”

“Fair.”

He reached for her hand. “You still staying?”

Jenny looked around the flat, now warm with laughter and recovery and something painfully human.

She squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. But I’m taking your bed.”

Alex grinned. “We’ll share.”

Jenny glanced toward the hallway, where Samantha was humming to herself.

“Only if you don’t mind sharing with your sister five feet away.”

Alex smirked. “We’ll be quiet.”

Jenny raised a brow. “You won’t.”

He kissed her anyway.

And she let him.

Dinner was takeout. Samantha had ordered Thai like she owned the flat, sprawled barefoot on the sofa, wrapped in one of Alex’s hoodies, scrolling through her phone between mouthfuls of green curry.  

Jenny sat cross-legged beside her, trying to ignore the way Samantha kept up a steady stream of commentary — half gossipy, half self-deprecating. She was likable, for sure. Warm, too. But her presence was constant.

Like a radio you couldn’t quite turn off.

Jenny caught Alex’s eye across the coffee table. He smiled sympathetically. He felt it too.

By ten, Samantha was yawning loudly and announcing her need for a hot shower and a full night’s sleep.

“Not that I’ll get one,” she added with a grin. “I’m a serial overthinker” as she got up to leave, stopping half way she looked at them both, “You two have fun pretending not to shag.”

Jenny choked on her wine.

Alex just groaned. “Jesus, Samantha.”

Samantha disappeared down the hallway, humming another little ditty.

Jenny stood and stretched, deliberately slow. “Well, that’s the least subtle permission I’ve ever been given.”

Alex crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Still want to share my bed?”

She looked up at him, eyes dark with promise. “Only if we’re very, very quiet.”

The bedroom door clicked shut with exaggerated care. Jenny kicked off her shoes, quickly followed by her jeans, and climbed into bed wearing one of his oversized, soft T-shirts, immediately clinging to her skin.

Alex joined her, flicking off the lamp. The soft glow of the hallway spilled under the door, painting shadows across the bed.

They lay in silence for a moment, hearts pounding from nothing but the thrill of proximity.

Then Jenny slid her hand under the covers.

Alex hissed softly. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I’m being gentle,” she whispered.

“Liar.”

She rolled on top of him, slowly, carefully, he was already hard, lifting her hips just enough to slide him into her— anticipation and restraint making it almost unbearable.

Her breath hitched.

So did his.

Neither of them moved.

“Quiet,” she breathed.

Alex nodded, biting his lip as she began to rock her hips — tiny movements, barely-there friction, but more than enough.

The bed creaked once.

Jenny froze, hand flying to his mouth.

He laughed behind it, eyes wide.

“Stop laughing,” she mouthed.

“You’re the one riding me like a stealth assassin,” he whispered back.

Her hand slid down his chest, nails dragging lightly. “You love it.”

“God, yes.”

The pleasure built slowly, drawn out, deeper for the silence. Jenny leaned forward, her forehead resting against his, hips never pausing, breathing shallow and ragged.

She came with her teeth clenched, jaw tight, her body shuddering so quietly it felt like a secret.

Alex followed seconds later, muffling his groan into the crook of her neck.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs and warm laughter.

“Pretty sure we passed the stealth test,” she whispered.

Alex chuckled. “Until Samantha brings it up at breakfast.”

Jenny smiled. “She knows.”

“She always knows.”

Monday Morning

Jenny arrived at the office earlier than usual, hair still damp from her shower, coffee in hand, a quiet spring in her step. Alex wasn’t in yet, but her phone buzzed with a message.

Alex: Be there in 10. Still thinking about last night. Also... Samantha says hi.

Jenny smirked, then noticed the silence. The usual office buzz was gone. Conversations hushed. Even the hum of the printer seemed distant. Across the room, Carole was watching her — too still, too smug — like she knew something Jenny didn’t.

She sat down, pulled open her inbox, and paused.

There, in the middle of her new emails, was one marked

CONFIDENTIAL: STAFFING ANNOUNCEMENT.

She clicked it.

Then froze.

The words blurred for a second, her mind racing to catch up.

Subject:
Staff Announcement: Immediate Team Re-Org

As part of the structural realignment, effective immediately, the Business Analysis team will now report under a new leadership chain Carole Homes. Alex Bennett has accepted a temporary secondment in our Singapore office. His departure is effective as of Friday.

Jenny stared at the screen.

Her coffee went cold in her hand.

Carole appeared beside her desk, holding her own phone. “Did you see it?”

Jenny didn’t move.

Carole’s voice lowered. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Jenny looked up slowly, mouth dry. “No.”

And for the first time since this whole thing began...

Jenny stood from her desk, the email still open on her screen. Her fingers tingled, numb from clutching the now-lukewarm coffee she hadn’t even tasted.

She barely registered Carole stepping closer.

“I mean... wow,” Carole said, trying — and failing — to hide her satisfaction. “You didn’t know? That’s rough.”

Jenny didn’t answer.

Carole leaned in, voice low, syrupy. “Still, you had your moment. Weekends away, all that after-hours reviewing... guess he got what he wanted.”

Jenny looked up, slow and calm. “You should probably step away before I forget you’re not worth it.”

Carole raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She turned with a small shrug and walked away, victorious in her own petty mind.

Jenny sat back down. Opened a spreadsheet. Closed it again.

Her stomach twisted.

He’d known.

He hadn’t told her.

Alex arrived later than he said he would, coffee in hand, fresh shirt, same slightly messy hair.

He smiled as he crossed the room. It stopped the moment he saw Jenny’s face.

She didn’t get up.

Didn’t say a word.

He walked over, slower now, glancing around at the unusually quiet office buzz. Too many eyes flicking up from monitors. Too many fake-typing fingers.

She turned her screen so he could see the email.

His face paled just enough to give him away.

“I was going to tell you,” he said under his breath.

Jenny stood. “You should have told me before an all-staff memo.”

“Jenny—”

“I’m not mad you’re going,” she snapped. “I’m mad you let me think we were planning something here.”

People were watching now, necks craning just slightly over cubicle edges.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” Alex asked, quieter now.

Jenny shook her head. “No. Seems you’ve already made enough decisions on your own. Let’s not make things awkward.”

Carole, two desks over, was trying not to grin.

Alex turned away, jaw tight, about to walk off — then stopped.

Turned back.

And for a moment, the room held its breath.

He stepped forward, past Jenny’s desk. Past the invisible boundary where professionalism and privacy usually lived.

“Alright,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Fine. Yes. Jenny and I have been seeing each other.”

The air went still.

A pen dropped somewhere.

Jenny blinked, stunned.

Alex didn’t waver. “We didn’t plan it. It wasn’t part of some office scandal. We just happened. And it was real.”

Jenny’s mouth opened, but no words came.

He reached into his pocket. Fingers shaking. Pulled out a small box that didn’t look new.

“Oh my God,” someone whispered.

“I was waiting for the right moment,” he said, stepping closer. “To do this.” HR screwed up AGAIN with that memo.

He got down on one knee.

The office collectively gasped.

Carole dropped her coffee.

Jenny’s heart stopped.

“Jenny Louise Martin,” Alex said, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “Come with me to Singapore. Be with me — not just for now, not just for weekends. For the rest of it.”

The silence was thunderous.

Jenny stared at him, stunned, bewildered, tears in her eyes. 

“Say something,” he said softly.

She blinked, whipping them away with a sniff.

And then... she laughed.

It bubbled up from her chest, disbelieving, breathless.

“You idiot,” she said, stepping forward.

He smiled, still kneeling. “That’s not a yes.”

Jenny dropped to her knees in front of him, kissed him hard, fingers threading through his hair.

“That’s a yes,” she whispered.

The office erupted in a chorus of cheers, claps, gasps, and stunned murmurs. Someone shouted, “Did you know?”

Carole stood frozen in place, expression unreadable.

Jenny turned, still in Alex’s arms, and caught her eye.

“Guess you didn’t just want weekends,” she said, loud enough for Carole to hear.

Carole opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Jenny turned back to Alex, eyes gleaming.

“You planned this?”

He shrugged. “Not quite like that.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “You absolute bastard.”

“You love me for it.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

He kissed her again, softer this time.

When they stood, Jenny slipped her arm into his.

“I need to pack,” she whispered.

“You’ve got a week.”

Jenny smiled. “I only need a night.”

And just like that, their whole life changed.

---------------------------------------  Not quite the End ---------------------------