Tomorrow Never Happens

At 11:59 p.m., Victoria's husband kissed her best friend.

She watched it happen through a narrow gap in the hotel-room door, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other gripping a brass key so tightly its teeth bit into her palm.

Daniel's fingers slid into Lena's hair. Lena leaned into him as if she had been waiting all evening for his touch. Their mouths met beneath the warm glow of a bedside lamp, tender and unhurried.

Victoria's stomach turned.

"No," she whispered.

The word barely left her throat. She took one step back, bumping into a drinks trolley. A glass rattled against its silver tray.

Inside the room, Daniel broke the kiss.

Victoria froze.

He turned towards the door. For one impossible second, she thought he had heard her. Then Lena touched his cheek, murmured something Victoria couldn't make out, and Daniel looked back at her.

The door remained ajar.

Victoria stumbled down the corridor, her heels scraping against the patterned carpet. Her legs felt weak, as if the floor had tilted beneath her. She made it past the lift before she stopped, pressed her shoulder against the wall, and let out a breath that shuddered all the way through her.

Her best friend.

Her husband.

The brass key slipped from her hand and clattered onto the carpet.

Victoria stared at it. It had been sitting on the kitchen counter when she left home that evening. She'd taken it without thinking, along with her coat and handbag, when Daniel said he had to attend a last-minute meeting near the hotel. Then Lena had called to ask if Victoria could pick her up after a dinner with a client.

One harmless favour. One simple errand.

She had driven across London in the rain, walked through the hotel lobby, and taken the lift to the seventh floor. She'd expected to find Lena alone, annoyed at being stood up.

Instead, she had found them together.

The lift doors opened behind her. A couple stepped out, laughing softly. Victoria snatched up the key and hurried towards the stairwell before they could see her face.

She didn't confront them. Not then. She couldn't trust her voice not to break-or her hands not to do something she would regret.

Outside, cold rain freckled her cheeks. She walked to the end of the street before calling a taxi. When the driver asked where she was going, she almost said Lena's flat. Instead, she gave him her own address.

At home, the lights were off. Daniel's car was absent from the drive.

Victoria stood in the hallway, still wearing her coat, and listened to the silence. The house smelled faintly of lemon polish and the lilies Daniel had brought her that morning. She remembered him kissing her forehead before he left for work.

"Don't wait up," he'd said.

She had smiled and reminded him to eat something.

Now she pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth and bent forward. A sob escaped anyway. She caught herself against the console table, jostling the framed wedding photograph. The glass tipped sideways.

In the picture, Daniel had his arm around her waist. Victoria was laughing, her veil caught by the wind. Lena stood beside them, holding Victoria's bouquet and grinning like a sister.

Victoria righted the frame with trembling fingers.

Her phone buzzed.

Lena: Home safe? Thank you for the lift.

Victoria stared at the message until the letters blurred. She typed, I saw you.

She deleted it.

Typed, How could you?

Deleted that too.

A third time, her fingers moved.

Victoria: Glad you got back safely.

She sent it, then hurled the phone onto the sofa. It bounced against a cushion and landed face down.

The anger came after the shock, hot and sharp. She marched into the kitchen and yanked open the cupboard. Daniel's favourite mug sat on the shelf, white porcelain with a fine blue rim. She grabbed it and flung it into the sink.

It shattered.

The crack rang through the empty house.

Victoria stared at the pieces. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. She wanted to smash every wedding gift, every photograph, every lovely thing that had once meant they were happy.

Instead, she slid down the cupboard door and folded her arms around herself.

A car door slammed outside.

Victoria shot to her feet. She rushed to the front window and peered through the curtain.

Daniel's car pulled into the drive.

She wiped her cheeks with both hands. Her pulse hammered as she heard his key turn in the lock. She could ask him where he'd been. She could make him look her in the eye and lie.

The door opened.

"Vicky?" Daniel called. "You're still up?"

She stepped into the hallway. "Couldn't sleep."

He came in carrying his coat over one arm, his tie loosened. He looked tired, but not guilty. There was a faint trace of rain on his shoulders.

He leaned in to kiss her.

Victoria turned her face at the last moment. His lips brushed her cheek.

Daniel paused. "Everything all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Your voice sounds strange."

"I'm tired."

He set his coat down. His gaze drifted past her to the kitchen. "Did you break something?"

"A mug."

"Which one?"

"The blue-rimmed one."

He frowned. "That was my favourite."

"Then you should have been here to protect it."

The words came out colder than she intended. Daniel's expression tightened.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked. "Me working late?"

Victoria's nails dug into her palms. "Were you working?"

His eyes held hers. Calm. Steady. Practised.

"Of course."

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to ask whether Lena had kissed him first, whether he'd planned the meeting, whether he'd laughed about her while she waited in the rain. But she couldn't get the questions past the knot in her throat.

Daniel stepped closer and rubbed her upper arm. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

She flinched before she could stop herself.

His hand dropped.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The clock in the hall clicked over to midnight.

Daniel's face changed.

Not much. A tightening around the mouth. A flicker in his eyes.

Then the hallway disappeared.

Victoria stood in the hotel room.

The bedside lamp cast a golden circle over the bed. Lena was there, her dress pooled around her thighs, one heel kicked onto the carpet. Daniel stood beside her, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looked nothing like the exhausted husband who had just come home.

He looked certain.

A phone rang on the bedside table. Daniel glanced at the screen and silenced it. Lena watched him.

"What if she finds out?" she asked.

"She won't," he said.

Victoria tried to move. Her feet wouldn't obey. She tried to scream, but the sound stuck behind her teeth.

Lena sat up. "And if she does?"

Daniel looked towards the door.

This time, he was looking straight at Victoria.

The hotel key burned in her hand.

"Tomorrow," Daniel said, "I'm leaving my wife."