That night, as usual, he left after giving her a quick hug in the hall.

He heard her shut the door behind his back, as he walked towards his car, but he didn't turn around: everytime, he felt a sudden rush to move very fast. To get up. To walk anywhere without looking back.

And well, basically, that's what he did.

He allowed himself to briefly look up at the quiet house as he unlocked his car door - one last glance, one last thought of her. He could see she was now sitting at the kitchen table.

He got in the car and started the engine. After a quick look in the rear view mirror, he pulled away from the sidewalk, obeyed the stop sign two blocks further down the street, and turned right on the boulevard.

He wasn't sure how it all had come to this. He was't even sure he'd ever wanted this whole situation, although there was little doubt that he'd taken every possible step that could lead him there.

He'd always reassured himself that it was all okay, that it didn't count, that he'd made his choice.

Until.

The street light turned red and he stopped at the intersection. He took a look at his watch: 7:15. He was running a little late, but she wouldn't make anything of it. He used to get home around 7, but lately he'd begun arriving a little after that and she didn't mention it. She just smiled quietly at him when he walked through the door, plain happy to see him.

He was happy to see her, too, everytime.

It wasn't all that bad, really. There were rules he was very careful to abide by. Never his place. No promises. No questions. No future. He'd made his decision and nothing on earth could make him change his mind.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew what the only way to get it was. Love wasn't even a component of this equation.

The light turned green again and he made a left turn and merged onto the highway.

He wasn't even actually hiding, he thought: she knew. She couldn't possibly not know. She probably was doing a hell of a good job pretending she had no idea, but she had to know.

She knew what she wanted, too.

Exit 89-E, second street to the left, fifth house to the right.

He pulled into the parking, stopped the car. He stayed still for a moment, staring at the brick wall in front of him.

Until what, really? It was okay. There were no worries to be had.

He got out of the car, locked the doors and slowly walked towards the hall of the building, fishing for the key to their appartment in his right pocket, under his wallet, with the pen he'd forgotten he'd left there.

Maybe this had been the last time. Maybe not.
He didn't have to wonder.