My wifes gone off to find herself, and I lost myself with her best friend
Simon, you must *feel* this! Here, the lines between the body and the soul just melt away!
Simon hunched over his battered Dell, perching at the edge of the sofa as the video flickered to life. Beccas tanned facethe light, the joy, the unmistakable glow of someone who belonged elsewherefilled the screen. Behind her sprawled the ancient stones of some ruin, shining gold in the late afternoon light. She radiated euphoria. From enlightenment. From sunshine. Or perhaps only from being far, far away.
Looks fascinating, Becks, he replied, his voice flat. Meanwhile, here in Reading, its raining and seven degrees.
From the kitchen came a muffled giggle. Laura, standing at the worn kettle, eyes always soft, had arrived half an hour ago with a bag of homemade sausage rolls and her quiet, knowing smile.
Simon, youre being cynical again, Becca chided, tucking a sun-bleached strand behind her ear. I mean it seriously! Yesterday we meditated at Chavenage Housedid you know they filmed *Poldark* there? The master says Im opening my third eye.
Congrats, Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, and when will you be fusing back with your first two, then?
Laura tried to suppress a laugh, shoulders shaking as she turned away. Simon caught her gaze over the kitchen door, and guilt pinched at him. Though not for the sarcasm. For the simple, unspoken truth that Laura understood him better than Becca ever had. With Laura, he could be himself. With Becca, he put on a mask of admiration.
Why are you like this? Beccas voice now had the wounded edge hed come to expect. You said you supported me finding myself.
He had said that, hadnt he? Three months ago, when shed announced her resignation and announced she was off to Asia to seek enlightenment, hed nodded, kissed her hair, hugged her tight. Hed believed itd pass in a few weeks; but it had now been two months and she continued to send him updates from pagodas, relics, monks in maroon robes. She flooded his WhatsApp with essays about chakras, energy fields, karmic chords.
Meanwhile, he was alone in their two-bedroom flat in Reading. Surrounded by her forgotten clutter and a mounting stack of bills.
I support you, Becky. Just tired. Rough day at the office, he said.
Oh love, she moved closer to the webcam so her face filled the frame, Are you all alone? Maybe Laura can come keep you company?
Simon stilled. Laura, too, paused in the kitchen, hands gripping the kettle. Their eyes met across the room.
She yeah, she pops by sometimes, he lied evenly, Brings sausage rolls. Very kind of her.
Lauras a diamond, Becca beamed, So glad you have each other to lean on. Say hello, if you see her.
I will.
Laura set the kettle down gently and slipped out. Simon could hear her light footsteps in the hallshe was probably leaving. Rightly so. She shouldnt have to remain while he and Becca discussed spiritual awakenings.
Listen Si, in half an hour Ive another meditation session, Beccas gaze flickered to her mobile. Let me just tell you quickly about my day, then can we chat again tomorrow?
Of course.
And she began: about meeting an Aussie lady whod practised vipassana for twenty years; about watching the sunrise at some ancient temple; about how everything in life was energy converging at a single point of mindfulness.
Simon watched her mouth move, her eyes shining, her unearthly elation. She was no longer here, in this life with him. Shed flown off, heart and mind, into temples and meditations, while he waded through gas bills and leaky pipes.
Three years ago, theyd met at an office party. She was a bubbly project manager, all laughter and irreverence. Six months of dating, and hed proposed on her buildings rooftop, under the stars. Shed wept with happiness, calling him her anchor, her reason, her forever.
When had it changed? A year ago? Eighteen months? First, she started yoga. Then ayurvedic workshops. Then Buddhism lectures. And then she declared how stifled she felt, desperate to discover her true purposelife wasnt about money; it was about the journey.
Simon hadnt objected. He rarely did. He just nodded, agreed, reassuredwaiting for the phase to end.
But she didnt end it. On fleeting returns shed pack more suitcases, then vanish againThailand, then Nepal, and now Cambodia. Her body came back for weekends, her soul stayed in those distant shrines.
Are you listening? Becca frowned.
Yeah. About the energy Riveting stuff.
Si, I feel like youre emotionally blocked, she sighed, Maybe you should try meditation too? Ill text you the link to an appten minutes a day and youll notice the shift.
Ten minutes a day, she said. He already noticed a *shift*: between her faraway search and his mundane existenceseven-hour workdays, the commute, the cooking, the cleaning. The gulf was massive, and growing.
Ill think about it. Thanks.
All right, gotta run. Love you. Ill be back soon, promise.
Soon as in?
Oh, a couple months still. Maybe three? I want to nip over to Vietnam after thistheres a monastery on conscious breathing.
Two or three more months. Or half a year. Or longer. Shed already lost track. Drifting on her spiritual current, while he slowly drowned at home.
Okay, Becks. Night.
Night, darling!
The screen went black. Silence fell, broken only by October rain at the window and the drone of a car alarm outside. Simon slumped back, staring at the ceiling.
Laura hadnt gone. He heard her bustling in the kitchen. Pouring water, arranging sausage rolls. The gentle clatter of a life grounded in the ordinary.
She appeared with two mugs of Yorkshire and a saucer of sausage rolls.
Sorry, didnt mean to eavesdrop, she whispered. But shes serious? Another two or three months?
Simon shrugged.
Shes finding herself.
And you? Laura set down the mugs, settling with a respectful gap between them. Arent you searching?
Ive already found everything, he said, a bitter smile. Myself, my wife, my career, our flat. Turns out, its not enough.
Laura was silenta gift she had, never awkward, never pitying. Theyd met a year ago, when Becca had brought her to his birthday. Laura was an accountant at the local council, lived alone in a one-bed just round the corner. She was quiet, homey, shya stark contrast to radiant, restless Becca.
And in Beccas absence, Laura started coming over. First now and then, then more often. Shed bring food, offer a hand with the household, or just sit there, listeningnever doling out platitudes or advice, simply present.
Sausage roll? she offered.
He took one. Still warm, flaky, rich with the comfort of the familiar.
Thank you for coming round, he said, mouth full, Honestly. Id have lost my marbles by now.
Oh come off it, she grinned. It’s nice for me too. Its quiet at mine. No pets. No plants. Just me, four walls, and the telly.
Why so?
She shrugged. Story a while back. Thought it was the real thing. Turned out he had a wife and two kids. I had no clue. And when I found out well, I left. Havent fancied romance since.
Simon studied her. Everything about Laura was plainher round cheeks, no-frills hair, a thick cardiganbut a gentle strength emanated from her. She didnt strive for perfection or spiritual heights. She simply *was*.
Youre a good person, Laura, he said quietly. Shame that bloke was a bastard.
Happens, she shrugged, sipping her tea. Everyones got a story.
They lapsed into silence, listening to the rain. The room was warm, snug. On the coffee table, next to an unopened pile of bills, a TV remote, and an old copy of *Computer Weekly*.
Somewhere, over four thousand miles away, in an ancient sanctuary surrounded by jungle, his wife was opening her third eye.
Sometimes, Simon finally said, turning to Laura, it feels like Ive lost her. Not just literally. Shes somewhere I cant go.
Do you want to go after her?
I dont know, he rubbed his face. I used to think I did, that I should back her every whim. But this isnt a passing fancy. Its another life. One she doesnt share with me.
Laura laid a hand on his arm. Just a friends touch. And yet, inside, something moved: warmth, closenesseverything hed missed.
Sorry he recoiled, I shouldnt burden you.
Youre not, she pulled her hand back, eyes gentle, Youre just tired. Tired of waiting, of being alone, of this nowhere state.
Exactly thata marriage in limbo. Still married, yet not really. Wife, but absent. Home, but empty.
More tea? she offered, standing.
Lets have wine instead, he blurted, surprising himself. If you fancy.
She hesitated, then nodded. All right.
He fetched a bottle of claretone he and Becca had bought for their anniversary, never openedand split it between two tumblers. They sat again, this time a little closer.
To what shall we toast? Laura asked, soft.
To being hereand not there, Simon said.
She gave a melancholy smile and clinked glasses.
The wine was earthy, comforting. They drank in silence. Then Laura began a silly story about a bungle at her office. Simon laughedtruly, for the first time in days, weeks, maybe months.
Then his laptop chimed.
Simon flinched. Beccas name blinked upa video call on WhatsApp.
Thats odd, he frowned, We only just spoke.
Maybe she forgot something, Laura ventured.
He accepted. Beccas face emerged anew, now half-shadowed in some dim guesthouse, a lamp behind her.
Hi again, Si! Sorry, they had to cancel meditationtorrential rain. Thought Id try you again, properly.
Yeah, sure, he glanced at Laura. She started to rise, heading to the kitchen.
Wait, whos that? Becca tilted forward. Someone in the background?
Laura, he croaked, Just dropped some sausage rolls by. Passed through.
Oh! Laura! Becca waved enthusiastically. Come say hi! Gosh I miss you!
Laura awkwardly perched at the sofas corner, half-in frame. Hello, Becca. How are things out there?
Wonderful! Becca sparkled. Though Im starting vipassana next weekten days of silence and meditation. No talking, no phones, just you and your thoughts. Im signed up.
Ten days silent? Simons insides knotted. You mean, we wont talk at all?
Well, thats the idea! Becca grinned, Disconnect, go inwardsamazing, isnt it?
Ten more days. On top of weeks, months, of silence.
Impressive. Deeply spiritual, he managed, dry.
Becca didnt notice the tone, or ignored it. Isnt it? Most men would flip out. But youre so accepting.
Accepting. Hed accepted everything: her departures, her absences, her searching. Because he loved her. Or had. Or didnt know how to object.
Look, Becks, the computers sluggishcould we possiblypick this up tomorrow?
But wait, I wanted to tell you about what the teacher said today
And she launched off again, about karma and reincarnation, relinquishing attachments, how suffering was all just ego.
Simon sat there, exhaustion snaking through him, thick and relentless. He was tired of listening, tired of feigning awe.
Laura shrank at his side, clearly feeling out of place. He quietly nudged the laptop volume down. And down further. Beccas mouth kept moving on-screen, gesticulatingonly now, barely audible.
Sorry, he whispered to Laura, She could go on all evening.
Should I slip away then? she mouthed.
No before he knew it, hed clasped her hand, Please stay. Dont go.
She looked at him, startled, but didnt pull away. They sat like that, holding hands, while Becca discoursed on spiritual awakening.
It was madness. Ridiculous. A betrayal. But Simon didnt care anymore. He was exhausted from doing the right thing. Tired of patience. Of waiting for Becca to descend from her celestial heights.
Laura was real. Tangible. Close.
Si, are you listening? Beccas voice punched through the rain outside.
YesyesI heard. Kundalini, right?
You look a bit distracted. Are you up to something?
Just knackered, he released Lauras hand. Work, you know.
My poor love! She became sugary again. Sleep then. Im off to ring my master about chakras.
Sure.
Kisses! Love you!
Love you too.
But she didnt hang up properlythe video still streamed. Simon watched her pacing her room, tapping on her mobile, then sitting cross-legged, hands curled in a meditative pose.
Off she went. Meditating.
Simon leaned back, closed his eyes. Laura was beside him, silent. He felt her breath, her warmth. She was only a foot away. One foot, and a world away.
Dont. Dont think it. Its wrong. Its betrayalagainst Becca, against Laura, against the last shreds of decency.
And then his handof its own willdrifted to Lauras shoulder. She flinched, turned huge eyes on him.
Si
Dont say anything. Please, he whispered.
He kissed her.
It was wrong. Foolish. Cruel. But desperately needed. After months of ice and loneliness and ethereal discussions.
Laura froze, then kissed him backa little salty, and she was crying. Or was he?
They were frantic, a quick, hungry tangle, as though fearing interruption. Simons hands found the zip on her dress, Lauras hands gripped him under his shirt. It happened fast, like something outside of themselves.
On the laptop, Becca serenely meditatedlost to other worlds.
Two realities. Becca, glowing and far away on screen. Here, in the living room, dark and intimate.
Simon dragged off his shirt, Laura pressed her tearstained cheek to his chest. She was trembling. Fear? Shame? Want?
Are you sure? he murmured.
No, she whispered. Are you?
Me neither.
They both laughed, low and jittery. Then silence.
Somewhere, Beccas voice prattled on. She finished meditating and began talking again, unaware the camera was still running, describing energy flows, letting go, the meaning of love.
On the sofa, not three feet from the screen, her husband was betraying herwith her best friend.
It was disgusting. Simon knew it. But he barely fought the rush. He cravedneededreal closeness.
Laura was quiet, barely a sound beyond her gasps against his neck, fingers tight enough on his shoulders to leave marks.
He couldnt look at the screenterrified of Beccas gaze. What if she glanced up? If she saw? The End.
But Becca didnt see. She was away, untouchable, in her spiritual dimension.
And Simonhe was damned, right on his own sofa, hating himself, unable to stop.
Afterwards, they stilled. Laura curled up, away from him, under a throw. Simon sat head in hands. Beccas voice droned from the laptop:
and thats when I realised true love isnt about possession, its about release. Its about acceptance. Trust.
Trust.
Simon felt sick. He jumped up, slammed the laptop closed, ending the call. Silence dropped like a shroud. Rain rattled at the glass.
Laura sat up, rebuttoning her dress.
I Id better go, she whispered.
Laura
No. She stopped him with a hand. Dont. No words. Please.
She dressed in the hallway. Simon stood frozen, wanting to say somethingsorry, an explanationbut what could he possibly say?
She left, shutting the door gently behind her.
Simon returned to the lounge. The throw was bunched on the floor; half-finished glasses and cold sausage rolls sat on the table. He opened the laptop. Missed call from Becca. A message on WhatsApp:
Si, did you lose connection? Everything ok? Kiss, bed time! Call tomorrow?
Tomorrow. Or after ten days of vipassana silence. Everything would be the same. She, there. He, here. Her world: spiritual. His: bruised reality.
Simon wandered to the window. Blocks stretched into the night. Somewhere, lights were on. People lived. Struggled, lied, betrayed. Or maybe not. Maybe they were happy.
Another ping. Not Becca. Laura.
Sorry.
Just one word.
He wanted to reply, but no words came. Sorry back? For what? For exploiting her loneliness? Betraying Becca? Drowning both of them in guilt?
Simon sat on the sofa, right where hed destroyed everything only minutes earlier. Wrapped himself in the throw, still smelling of Laura. And wept. Quietly, bitterly, tears unstoppable.
What had he done? For what? For a fleeting warmth? For revenge on his wife for leavingor simply because he couldnt bear to be kind any more?
He wiped his face. Another message from Becca:
Good night, love. Hug.
Standard. Routine. She was probably already asleep, or meditating, or messaging that Aussie about vibrations.
And hehe sat alone, shamed.
Simon washed the glasses, scrubbed away crumbs, stowed leftovers. He tried to clean away evidence. As if any of it could be erased.
He lay in their bedhis and Beccasstaring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldnt come. Only the thick, lingering thoughts.
What of tomorrow? Would Laura come again, or vanish forever? Would he play the part of the loyal husband when Becca called? Nod along as she spoke of enlightenment?
He remembered her words about trust, acceptance. He felt sick laughter and tears rise together.
Trust? Acceptance? Hed just cheated in their home while she sought enlightenment. There was nothing lower.
But shed betrayed him tooher way. Choosing the quest over him, abandoning him to the echoing flat.
No excuses. Not the same. She didnt sleep with anyone. She just left.
No. You cant justify it.
Three in the morning. Still awake. Coffee. The computer. Work: code, numbers, something pure and logical.
But the hands wouldnt obey. Code blurred. He saw only those momentsher tears, their frantic kiss. Laura, crying too.
Shed wanted it too, hadnt she? Always coming round, always helping, always there.
Simon rubbed his eyes. God, he knew nothingabout Becca, her heights; about Laura, patient and present; about himself.
Who was he, now? Victim? Traitor? Just a weak man cut down by loneliness?
Morning broke unnoticed. The rain relented; engines rumbled outside. Reading woke.
Simon readied for work. At the door he spotted a note on the mat.
Lauras hand, shaky.
Simon. I dont know what to say. Im ashamed. Of myself. Of what I did to Becca. To you. I dont know how I could look her in the eye when shes back. I wont come again. Not for a while anyway. Sorry. Not just for yesterdayfor ruining everything. Laura.
He folded it, pocketed it, left for work. He sat at his desk all day, staring through the screen. Answered colleagues as if from underwater.
Home, again. Flat silent. He microwaved soup without tasting it. Switched on the TV. The news. The weather. All static.
Ping. Message from Becca.
Si! Everything amazing here. Vipassana starts tomorrow so Ill be silent for ten daysdont worry if you cant reach me. Will think of you. Big kiss!
He stared at it for a while. Then typed, Good luck, Becks. Take care of yourself. Thats what matters most.
Send. Closed the laptop.
Next ten days: freedom from all the talk of chakras. Ten days to think. Or just to get more lost.
Phone buzzed. Laura.
Can I come round? We need to talk.
His heart jerked. He wrote: Come over.
She arrived after twenty minutes, pale, red-eyed, lingering on the sofa in her mac.
Sorry its late, she whispered. Ive been thinking all day. You cant just run off and pretend. You have to talk.
Simon sat opposite in the armchair. A safe distance.
Go on, he said.
I dont know what last night was, she stared at the floor. Im wracked with guilt. Over Becca. She was my closest friend. Was. I dont even know if thats true now.
Laura
Waitlet me finish. I cant claim it was a mistakeI wanted it. I did. From the moment I started coming round, I wanted you, to be needed, to be yours. I saw how you struggled. I was on my own too. I just wanted to belong.
Simon was wordless.
But thats no excuse, she pressed on, Youre married. Shes my friend. I let it happen anyway. I have no idea how to live with it now.
I dont either, he murmured. Laura, I used you. I let my loneliness and resentments win. Its my fault. I should have stopped it.
We both should have, she said, dabbing her eyes, But here we are. And nowwhat?
Silence. Sticky and unbearable.
Will you tell her? Laura asked.
I dont know, Simon slumped. Should I? How? Hi sweetheart, while you chased bliss, I slept with your mate on our sofa?
She winced.
Sorry. That was crude. I just dont know what to do. Tell her and break it all? Or hide it and live with it?
If we pretend, then what? I pop round with food, we drink tea, then she comes home and we all sit together? No. Simon, I dont want to be the one who ruins your marriage.
And I dont want you hurt by my weakness, he tried to say, but couldnt.
I cant stay here, she said, standing, I need to go. Out of your life. Hers. Maybe even out of ReadingI could move north, take the transfer. Ill think about it.
Dontthis is your lifework, friends”
Friends? Becca? Not anymore. Not after this. Every time I look at her, Ill rememberand youll remember. Shell sense it, sooner or later.
Of course she would. The rot would seep into everything.
So what do we do? Simon whispered.
Laura paused at the door, gave him a long, heavy look.
Keep living, Simon, she said. Youwith your wife and your guilt. Me, with my shame. Maybe it was always going to be like this.
Laura
She stopped him. Take care of yourself, and her. Maybe shell come back changed. Maybe things will work out.
Or maybe not.
If not, that’s your choice. It should have nothing to do with me. Last night wasnt a beginningit was an end. The end of our friendship, and my friendship with Becca. And of whoever I used to be.
She left. For good, this time.
Simon stood alone in the lounge, staring at the closed door. Then at the sofa, the coffee table, the laptop.
Nothing had changed, outwardly. But everything had.
He drifted to the window, gazing across rain-washed rooftops. Somewhere a world away, Becca was meditating in silence, searching for answers.
Simon had found his answer here, on the sofa.
It was simple, and awful: he was just a man. Flawed, weak, lonely. Not spiritual, not noble. Just someone who wanted warmth and got only shame.
He drew the curtains sharply, switched off the lamp, and lay alone in the darkness.
Ten days silence. Ten days to decide if he could forgive himself. And whether forgiveness meant anything at all.
No answers came. Only the blackness, the quiet, and the muted tremor of Reading waking in the night.
Sorry, he whispered into the empty room. Sorry, Laura.
But he wasnt sure who he meantLaura, now vanished? Becca, who would never know? Or himself, who had betrayed everyone, including his own soul?
The darkness was silent, as darkness is meant to be.
