Is It Revenge If He Doesn't Know?

I stare at my reflection in the marble bathroom of my hotel room, barely recognising the woman looking back at me.

Three months in Qatar's relentless heat has given my normally pale skin a darker tan, and I've lightened my brown hair with highlights to combat the merciless sun. But it's my eyes that seem different... a wariness that wasn't there before I left London.

It's been four days since Nathan's confession. Four days since my world tilted on its axis. Four sleepless nights replaying his words, his tone, the look on his face as he admitted to betraying five years of trust.

"I need to tell you something, Em." His voice on the video call had been strained, unnaturally serious against the backdrop of our London flat. The same flat I'd left three months ago for this six-month secondment in Doha. "Something happened at Mark's stag do last weekend."

I'd known immediately. Some primal instinct had sent ice through my veins even before he started talking, his expression, his demeanour, everything pointing in one direction and it wasn't a good one.

"I got really drunk. More drunk than I've ever been." A pause, his eyes unable to meet mine through the screen. "There was this woman at the club. We were talking, and I... we..."

"You what, Nathan?" I'd demanded, needing to hear him say it.

"We went back to her hotel. I slept with her." He had looked up then, tears in his eyes. "It meant nothing, Em. I swear to god, it was just a stupid, drunken mistake. I don't even remember most of it. I woke up the next morning and felt sick about what I'd done."

The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as I apply a touch of mascara. I hadn't screamed or hung up or immediately ended our relationship. I'd just gone numb, listening to his desperate apologies and promises that it would never happen again, that he loved me, that he would do anything to make it right.

"I need time," I'd told him finally. "Don't call me for a few days. I'll contact you when I'm ready to talk."

A small mercy that this business trip to Dubai had already been scheduled... three days of meetings with regional clients that require me to be actually there in person rather than through a screen. A necessary escape from my temporary Doha apartment where every corner reminds me of Nathan's calls, of his long weekend to come and visit me just a few weeks before.

I slip on the jeans and white strappy top that I've chosen for this evening... simple and casual while being smart enough to fit in. Over three months I've got the art of dressing up to go to hotel bars down to a tee.

The last two nights I just stayed in my room and ordered room service but I really don't fancy a third night in a row alone with my thoughts, crying myself to sleep at Nathan's betrayal. Even I can recognise the danger of too much of that.

The hotel's outdoor bar seems like a reasonable compromise... out in public but easily able to retreat back to my room quickly if I want or need to, upscale enough to feel classy without feeling underdressed. I slide my feet into my heels, grab my handbag, and head out before I can talk myself out of it.

I'm soon settled in on a high stool at the bar with a stunning view of the Burj Khalifa glittering in the near distance, and a view of the smart crowd out enjoying their evening. Thursday night... not quite the weekend, but close enough that it seems a lot of people want to party, certainly busier that it would be back in Doha anyway.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks with a polished smile.

"Gin and tonic, please."

As he prepares my drink, I look around the bar automatically, a habit developed over three months of being a woman alone in the Middle East. Most of the clientele are in groups, business people unwinding and tourists on holiday. A few solitary figures are here or there, seemingly in the same boat as me... tired eyes from a busy day of work, in Dubai on business, but also in Dubai on expenses and damned if they're not going to at least enjoy the climate and a little of the nightlife.

One of them catches my gaze before I can look away. He's tall, broad shouldered, with dark blonde hair and the kind of tan that suggests he spends time outdoors rather than just under artificial light. Australian or perhaps South African, I guess from his appearance. He smiles, a quick acknowledgment before respectfully turning back to his drink.

The bartender sets my gin and tonic down and I take a grateful sip, letting the familiar bite of it wash over my tongue. Four days of emotional turmoil have left me exhausted in a way that sleep can't seem to touch. The alcohol, at least, takes the edge off.

I pull out my phone, scrolling through emails without really seeing them, a shield against unwanted conversation. Three new messages from Nathan, subject lines ranging from "Please talk to me" to "I love you" to "I'm so sorry", remain unopened. I can't bring myself to read them yet, but I can't delete them either.

"Excuse me."

I look up to find the man I noticed earlier standing a respectful distance from my seat at the bar.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, his accent confirming my Australian guess, "but is this seat taken?" He gestures to the empty stool beside me.

My first instinct is to say yes, it is taken, or to gather my things and move elsewhere. I've become practiced at deflecting male attention during my time in Qatar, where being a woman alone can sometimes invite unwanted and unfortunately aggressive advances.

"It's not taken," I hear myself say instead, surprising myself. "Feel free."

"Thanks." He settles onto the stool, setting his whiskey on the bar. "Crowded tonight."

It's not, actually. There are several empty seats further down the bar, but I appreciate the pretence that his approach is about seating rather than interest.

"I'm Liam, by the way," he offers, extending a hand.

"Emma," I reply, accepting the handshake. His palm is warm and dry, his grip firm without being aggressive.

"Nice to meet you, Emma. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

The standard opening line should feel like a tired cliché, but something in his delivery, a genuine curiosity rather than a rehearsed pickup, makes it ok.

"Business," I say. "Just over from Doha for a few days. You?"

"Same," he says. "Engineering consultation for a project here. Based in Sydney usually, but I've been bouncing around the Gulf for the past few months."

The conversation flows more easily than I expected, moving from work to travel to cultural observations about the region. Liam is intelligent and articulate, with a dry humour that occasionally catches me off guard, eliciting genuine laughs that I didn't think I was capable of right now.

When my glass empties, he gestures to the bartender. "Another round? My treat this time."

I hesitate, the internal conflict immediate and sharp. I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cheated, yes, but still technically my boyfriend unless I decide otherwise. Accepting a drink from an attractive stranger in a hotel bar feels like crossing a line.

But Nathan crossed a line too, didn't he? A much more significant one.

"No, thank you," I say, the polite reflex winning out. Then, as Liam nods acceptance without pushing, something shifts inside me. "Actually, yes. I'd like that. Thank you." I'm not sure if I immediately regret saying that or not.

He smiles, and I feel a little flutter in my chest at the sight. "Gin and tonic for the lady," he tells the bartender, "and I'll have another whisky, neat."

As our fresh drinks arrive, I find myself leaning slightly closer, drawn into his orbit as he tells me about growing up in Melbourne, about his unconventional path to engineering through a stint in the Australian Navy. There's an ease to him, a confidence without arrogance that I find increasingly attractive.

"What about you?" he asks after finishing a story about a project gone wrong in Saudi Arabia. "What brings a London girl to Doha?"

"Six month secondment with my firm," I explain. "PR crisis management for energy companies. Not the most ethically spotless work, but it's a stepping stone to where I want to be."

"And where's that?" he asks, genuinely interested.

I hesitate, not used to being asked about my ambitions. Nathan always focuses on the practical aspects of my career... the salary, the benefits, the stability. I can't remember the last time that I was asked about my aspirations.

"Environmental communications," I admit. "Using the same skills but for companies and causes I actually believe in."

"That sounds brilliant," Liam says, his eyes crinkling with his smile. "When does your secondment end?"

"Three more months," I say. "Then back to London."

"Someone waiting for you there?" he asks casually, though the question feels anything but.

The moment of truth. I could lie, could say I'm single and see where this night leads. I could tell the complete truth... yes, someone is waiting, but he betrayed me four days ago and I don't know if I'm going back to him or not. But tonight, I don't want to even get close to the topic. I'm enjoying my evening too much.

"No," I say, too quickly, and I can see from the expression that crosses his face fleetingly that he knows I'm lying, but he also figures that I'm lying for a reason and it's not his place to probe.

There's a long moment where neither of us talk and I can feel myself starting to blush... I've never been any good at telling lies. But I'm grateful to Liam... grateful that he's happy for me to be whoever I want to be for the evening. Not Emma the cheated on girlfriend, just Emma the woman on a business trip.

"So," I say, desperate to change the subject, "tell me about this engineering project that's brought you to Dubai."

He follows my lead, launching into an explanation of sustainable cooling systems for skyscrapers that's surprisingly fascinating. I find myself genuinely engaged, asking questions that lead us into debates about architecture, climate change, and the future of cities.

Two drinks become three then four as the hours slip by unnoticed. I'm not drunk, not quite, just pleasantly warm, more relaxed than I've felt in days. Liam is excellent company... smart, funny, attentive without being overbearing. Under different circumstances...

But these are the circumstances I have. A boyfriend who cheated. A stranger who intrigues me. Three thousand miles from home and all its complications.

"It's getting late," Liam says eventually, glancing at his watch. "I should probably let you go."

"Yes," I agree, though I feel a pang of disappointment. "Early meetings tomorrow."

"Same," he says. "But this was... nice. Unexpected, but nice."

"It was," I admit. "Thank you for the drinks and the conversation."

He signs the check, adding it to his room bill. As we stand to leave, he hesitates, then offers, "My suite has a balcony with a view of the Burj. If you're not ready to call it a night, we could continue the conversation there. Just drinks," he adds quickly. "No expectations."

The invitation hangs between us, loaded with possibility. I should say no. I should thank him for a lovely evening and retreat to my room alone. I should call Nathan and either forgive him or end things definitively before I do something I can't take back.

But the thought of returning to my empty room, to the isolation and hurt that awaits me there, is suddenly unbearable. And beneath the guilt and confusion is something else... a flicker of defiance. Why should I spend another night crying over Nathan's betrayal when I could be enjoying intelligent conversation with a man who makes me laugh, who listens when I speak, who looks at me like I'm the most interesting person in the room?

"One more drink," I hear myself say. "But just that." I pause. "I mean it, just a drink."

Liam's smile widens, genuine pleasure lighting up his face. "Of course. One drink, great conversation, spectacular view. I promise nothing more."

As we walk toward the lifts I feel a complicated blend of emotions... guilt and anticipation, anxiety and excitement, a sense of stepping off a familiar path into unknown territory. I don't know what will happen next. I don't know if I'll keep my own promise of 'just one drink', I don't know if I'm doing this out of loneliness, desire for connection, or some subconscious need to balance the scales with Nathan.

All I know is that for the first time in four days, I'm not drowning in hurt. For this moment, at least, that feels like enough.

The lift climbs silently, its mirrored walls reflecting Liam and me standing at opposite corners. Twenty floors pass in seconds, carrying us toward his suite and whatever comes next. The lobby's bustle fades to memory, replaced by a tension so thick I can almost touch it.

I watch our reflections, me in my jeans, top and heels, him in his jeans, shirt and jacket, and wonder briefly what we must look like to anyone who might see us. A couple? Business associates? A man and woman making a decision they might regret by morning?

"Here we are," Liam says as the doors slide open to reveal a long, deeply carpeted corridor. He leads the way, key card in hand, to a door at the far end... the corner suite.

The lock clicks, the door swings open, and he steps aside to let me enter first. I hesitate for just a heartbeat before crossing the threshold, aware that this small step carries symbolic weight I'm not ready to examine too closely.

The suite is breath-taking, more luxurious than my own already impressive room. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Dubai's glittering skyline, the Burj Khalifa illuminated like a beacon rising high above us into the night sky. The décor is understated elegance... neutral tones, clean lines, artwork that doesn't compete with the view.

"The balcony's through here," Liam says, moving toward glass doors on the far side of the living area. He slides one open and the warm night air rushes in, carrying with it the faint sounds of the city down below.

I follow him outside, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. The balcony is spacious, furnished with a comfortable-looking outdoor sofa and two chairs around a small table. Low level lighting illuminates the space without diminishing the view.

"What can I get you to drink?" Liam asks, gesturing toward the minibar visible through the open door. "They've stocked the suite pretty well."

"Whatever you're having is fine," I reply, moving to the railing to look out at the city. From this height, Dubai is a luminous circuit board, pulsing with electric life. Skyscrapers pierce the darkness, their windows forming constellations against the night. Below, off to the side, headlights flow like rivers of light along Sheikh Zayed Road.

I hear Liam moving about inside, the clink of glasses, the sound of drinks being poured. I close my eyes briefly, feeling the warm breeze against my skin, trying to quiet the battle raging inside me... guilt versus desire, loyalty versus retribution.

Nathan's face flashes in my mind, the way he looked during that video call, eyes red-rimmed and desperate as he confessed. 'It meant nothing, Em. I swear to god.' But it had meant something to me. It had meant the shattering of trust, the collapse of certainty, the sudden questioning of five years together. A few weeks since he last saw me, a few thousand miles apart, and he couldn't even keep his dick in his trousers. I'm so angry, deep down inside. So, so angry, but I push it down, not wanting it to spoil what has been a much needed enjoyable evening.

"One whiskey, with ice," Liam says, appearing at my side with two crystal tumblers. "Hope that's alright."

"Perfect," I say, accepting the glass, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. The small contact sends a current up my arm, and I take a quick sip to disguise my reaction, welcoming the smoky burn.

Liam leans against the railing beside me, a respectful distance between us as he gazes out at the view. "Quite something, isn't it? All of this built in the middle of the desert in just a few decades."

"It's like a mirage," I agree. "Beautiful but somehow unreal."

"That's a good way to put it," he says thoughtfully. "Sometimes I think that about this whole lifestyle... flying around the world, living out of luxury hotels, meeting interesting people who disappear from your life as quickly as they entered. None of it feels quite real."

There's a note of melancholy in his voice that catches me by surprise. "Do you get lonely?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He looks at me, his expression open. "Sometimes. Don't you? In Doha, I mean."

I nod, taking another sip of whiskey. "It's strange being somewhere so foreign, surrounded by people but still feeling separate. The expat community is close knit, but it's also... transient. Everyone knowing they'll leave eventually, and when people know you're leaving in three months you start to get marginalised."

"Transient connections," he says. "That's the phrase I use for it."

"Is that what this is?" I ask, gesturing between us with a smile. "A transient connection?"

The question hangs in the air, more direct than I intended. Liam considers it, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"I think," he says carefully, "that connections between people are what they are. Some last hours, some last lifetimes. Their duration doesn't necessarily determine their significance."

It's a diplomatic answer but thoughtful enough to feel genuine. I turn back to the view, conscious of his presence beside me, the subtle scent of his cologne carried on the warm night air. We stand in companiable silence, easy, comfortable. I appreciate that he doesn't feel the need to fill the silence with words.

I take a long sip of my whiskey, welcoming the warm haze it creates. "I don't know what I'm doing here," I admit. "This isn't like me."

He smiled. "In what way?"

"Going to the hotel room of a man I just met for a drink... I don't do that."

"Maybe that's okay," he suggests. "Maybe sometimes we need to step outside ourselves to figure out who we really are."

His words echo something I've been feeling since Nathan's confession, that perhaps the person I thought I was, the boundaries I believed were fixed, the certainties I counted on... perhaps they were all more fragile than I realised.

"And you?" I ask, changing the subject. "Why invite a woman you've just met back to your room?" My heart is racing by now, realising that this is where something either happens or it doesn't. Either way, I'll know soon.

He considers this, his gaze direct. "Because from the moment I saw you at the bar, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time. A connection. And yes, you're beautiful, but it's more than that. It's the way you listen, the intelligence in your questions, the smile that transforms your whole face when something genuinely amuses you." He sets his empty glass on the table. "I invited you because I wanted more time with you, whatever that means. Whatever you want it to mean."

His honesty disarms me, strips away the pretence that this is just a friendly nightcap between two travellers. There's an invitation in his words, but also freedom... the space to define this encounter on my own terms.

I step closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "I'm not sure what I want it to mean yet," I say softly.

"That's okay," he replies, his voice equally quiet. "We don't have to decide everything right now."

The moment stretches between us, taut with possibility. I'm acutely aware of every detail... the slight movement of his broad chest as he breathes, the way the city lights reflect in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips. All I need to do is lean forward slightly, and everything changes.

I take that step before I can change my mind.

The first touch of his lips against mine is gentle, questioning. I remain still for a heartbeat, suspended between pulling away and pressing closer. Then something inside me shifts, a dam breaking, and I'm kissing him back with an intensity that surprises us both.

His hands come up to hold my face, tender despite the growing urgency of our kiss. Mine find his shoulders, solid and warm beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. He tastes of whiskey and possibility, and I lose myself in the sensation, allowing everything else to fall away... Nathan, his betrayal, the uncertainty of our future. In this moment, there is only this... the press of his body against my body, the slide of his tongue against my tongue, the quiet grunt of pleasure he makes when I press closer.

We break apart, both breathing heavily, his forehead resting against mine. "Emma," he whispers, giving me the opportunity to back away.

I should stop now. Thank him for the evening, return to my room, preserve what's left of my fidelity to Nathan. That would be the sensible choice, the moral high ground.

Instead, I kiss him again, deeper this time, my hands sliding beneath his jacket to feel the warmth of his chest through his shirt. His response is immediate, arms encircling me, drawing me close against him as our kisses grow more heated, more demanding.

This is just a kiss, I tell myself as his lips move to my neck, trailing fire along my skin. Just a kiss. Everyone strays that far sometimes... don't they?

But as his hands slide lower, tracing the curve of my spine through my top, I know we're heading somewhere beyond kissing. Liam seems to realise this too, pulling back slightly to search my face.

"We can stop," he says, his voice unable to hide his desire but his eyes clear and focused. "Anytime. Just say the word."

The consideration in his voice, when I'm already mentally justifying my betrayal, makes want him even more. I should take the out he's offering. I should thank him for a lovely evening and leave.

Instead, I take his hand and guide it to the waist of my jeans. "I don't want to stop," I whisper against his lips.

His fingers trace the metal teeth of the zipper, a question in his touch. "Are you sure?"

No, I'm not sure of anything except that I want this, want him, with an intensity that frightens me. Want to feel desired and valued after days of feeling worthless, discarded. Want to balance the scales, to take back control in some small way.

"Yes," I say, the single syllable releasing me from constraint.

He kisses me again as he slowly undoes my jeans, his touch reverent as he exposes my skin to the warm night air. His hands reach for my top and I let him pull it off, revealing my bra underneath, not what I would describe as my best lingerie but a nice, red bra... certainly nothing to be ashamed of wearing.

I feel suddenly, thrillingly vulnerable. Liam's hands trace patterns on my bare back, each touch sending sparks through me.

I reach for his jacket, slipping it off so that it falls to the floor, then the buttons of his shirt, my fingers working with growing urgency. I need to feel his skin against mine, need the solid reality of him to anchor me in this moment, to keep me from thinking about what I'm doing and what happens after.

When his shirt hangs open, I place my palms against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath warm skin and the light dusting of hair. He's fit, his body speaking of regular exercise rather than obsessive gym routines, and I explore him with curious fingers, learning the layout of him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands resting lightly on my hips, thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin. The compliment warms me, but I don't want tenderness right now. Tenderness might break me, might make me think about what I'm doing and why. I want heat and need and the blessed oblivion of physical sensation.

He slips my jeans down so that they fall to my ankles, and I kick myself free of them so that I'm standing in just my underwear, thankful that I wore a matching set. The look in his eyes, pure, undisguised desire, sends a rush of power through me, a heady contrast to the helplessness I've felt since Nathan's confession.

This man desires me. In this moment, right now, he wants me and no one else. It is exactly, precisely what I need.

Liam steps forward, his hands skimming my sides, my stomach, the underside of my breasts. "We should go inside," he says, his voice restrained but clearly fighting against his arousal.

I nod, unable to trust my voice. He takes my hand, leading me through the glass doors into the suite's bedroom. The king sized bed dominates the room, its pristine white duvet turned down invitingly. Liam stops beside it, his eyes never leaving mine as he shrugs off his open shirt and then slips off his own jeans.

We come together again, skin against skin now, and the sensation is electrifying. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that's both tender and hungry, his hands exploring with growing confidence. When he lowers me to the bed, I go willingly, pulling him down with me.

What follows is a blur of sensation... his weight above me, the brush of his lips on my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach. My bra comes off fast. His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere, drawing responses from my body I didn't know or at least had forgotten were possible. I lose myself in it, in him, grateful for the way his touch drowns out my thoughts.

When his fingers slide beneath the fabric of my underwear, finding me wet and ready, I gasp his name. Once he pulls my underwear off, he watches my face as he explores me, learning what makes me arch and moan, what makes my breath catch. It's intimate in a way that I hadn't expected, his careful study of my pleasure.

"Liam," I whisper when I can't bear any more, when I need him completely. "Please."

He understands, reaching for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a condom. I watch as he removes his boxer shorts and slides it on. Then he's above me again, poised at my entrance, his eyes seeking final confirmation.

"Yes," I say, wrapping my legs around him, drawing him to me.

When he pushes inside, I gasp at the fullness, the rightness of it. This is what I needed... this connection, this momentary escape from pain. Liam moves slowly at first, establishing a rhythm that builds gradually in intensity. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hands clutching his shoulders, his back, urging him deeper.

It's different than with Nathan... not better or worse, just different. New angles, new pressures, new responses. The novelty itself is intoxicating after five years with the same partner. I find myself studying Liam's face as pleasure overtakes him, memorizing the way his eyes focus, the small sounds he makes, the flex of muscles in his jaw.

"Emma," he groans, his movements becoming more urgent. "God, Emma."

My name in his voice sends me over the edge unexpectedly, waves of pleasure crashing through me, my orgasm hitting hard, making my cry out in ecstasy. Liam follows moments later, his body tensing before collapsing against mine, his weight warm and solid and real.

For a long moment, we stay like that, catching our breath. Then he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so we're lying face to face.

The immediacy of desire fades, and reality begins to seep back in. I've just had sex with a man who isn't my boyfriend. A stranger, essentially, met just hours ago in a hotel bar. The weight of it settles over me, not quite regret but something in the vicinity... a recognition of boundaries crossed that cannot be uncrossed.

Liam seems to sense my withdrawal. "Are you ok?" he asks, his fingers brushing hair from my face with surprising tenderness.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "I don't normally do one night stands."

He's quiet for a moment, then says softly, "Whatever you're feeling, it's okay. No judgment here." I can tell that he's thinking about my obvious lie earlier, that there's no one back in London, but I'm grateful again that he's happy to just let me be.

His kindness only complicates things further. I'd almost prefer judgment, anger, something to justify the growing knot of guilt in my chest. But he offers only understanding, which leaves me nowhere to direct my conflicted emotions except inwards.

"Should I go?" I ask, not sure what I hope he'll say.

Liam props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "You're welcome to stay," he says. "Or go. No pressure either way."

The choice is mine, just as every choice tonight has been mine. I consider my options... returning to my empty room to face my thoughts alone, or staying here with this kind, perceptive stranger who's already seen me at my most vulnerable.

"I'll stay," I decide. "If that's really ok?" I know that I shouldn't, but I don't want to go to sleep alone tonight. Anything but that.

"More than ok," he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Though I should warn you I've been told I snore a bit."

The mundane comment, so at odds with the weight of the moment, startles a laugh from me. "Trust me, the noise around me in my Qatar apartment means that I can sleep through anything."

Liam gets up to use the bathroom, giving me a moment alone with my thoughts. I check my phone out of habit and see another missed call from Nathan. Tomorrow, I'll have to deal with it all... with him, with us, with what tonight means for our future. But for now, I set the phone aside and choose the simpler path... a night in the arms of someone who expects nothing from me beyond these hours we share.

When Liam returns, he slips under the covers beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist as I turn onto my side with my back to him. The simple intimacy of it, his chest against my back, his breath warm on my neck, brings unexpected tears to my eyes. I blink them away, grateful that he can't see my face.

"Goodnight, Emma," he whispers, his voice already slowing with approaching sleep.

"Goodnight," I whisper back, letting my eyes close, surrendering to exhaustion.

Whatever reckoning awaits me, it can wait until morning. For now, there is only this... the warmth of another body beside mine, the momentary peace of being held without expectations, the strange comfort of knowing that for tonight, at least, I'm not alone with my pain.

I wake to unfamiliar shadows on an unfamiliar ceiling. For a disorienting moment, I don't know where I am, then the warmth of another body beside me brings everything rushing back. Liam's suite. Liam's bed. Last night.

Dubai's bright morning light streams through a gap in the curtains, stark and unforgiving compared to the soft glow of the city at night. Reality always looks different in daylight. Harder. Clearer.

I turn my head to find Liam still asleep, his face relaxed, stubble catching the light along his jaw. He looks younger asleep, vulnerable in a way he hadn't seemed last night. Something twists in my chest... not regret exactly, but a growing awareness of what I've done, who I've become.

I've never cheated before. Never thought I would. Even after Nathan's confession, I hadn't planned this... had told myself I was just going for a drink, just trying to not have another night alone eating room service in my room, just looking for distraction. But here I am, naked in a stranger's bed.

I should leave now. Slip away quietly, return to my own room, deal with this new reality alone. But as I start to shift away, Liam stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist.

"Morning," he whispers, voice sleepy. His eyes open, startlingly blue in the morning light, and find mine. "Sleep okay?"

"Yes," I say, because it's easier than explaining the complex cocktail of emotions churning inside me. At least I didn't dream. "You?"

"Better than I have in ages." He smiles, and it transforms his face, creates dimples I hadn't noticed last night. "What time is it?"

I glance at the bedside clock. "Just after seven."

"When's your first meeting?"

"Ten," I reply, working out how much time I need to return to my room, shower, prepare.

"Plenty of time, then," he says, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip. The implication is clear in his touch, in the way his body shifts closer to mine beneath the sheets.

I freeze, caught between conflicting impulses. Part of me wants to reciprocate, to lose myself again in physical sensation and postpone the reckoning that awaits. Another part recoils at the idea, suddenly hyperaware that I've already crossed a line I swore I never would.

"Emma?" Liam asks, sensing my hesitation. "Everything okay?"

No, nothing is okay. I've cheated on my boyfriend. I've betrayed my own principles. I've used this kind and attractive man as a weapon in a war he knows nothing about.

"I'm just..." I search for the right words. "Processing, I guess."

Liam nods, his expression softening. "Having second thoughts?"

"More like fortieth thoughts," I admit with a weak attempt at humour. "I don't usually do this kind of thing."

"So you said. If it helps, neither do I," he says, which seems unlikely given his confidence last night but feels like a kindness nonetheless.

I can feel his arousal against my thigh, his body responding naturally to our proximity and our nudity despite the serious turn in conversation. I don't want us to part badly though, last night was fun and it isn't his fault that I feel an element of remorse in the cold light of day.

Before I can overthink it, I move my hand beneath the sheets, finding him hard and ready. His breath catches as I begin to stroke him, his eyes narrowing with desire.

"You don't have to..." he begins.

"I want to," I lie, or perhaps half-lie. What I want is complicated, but this seems like the simplest path forward, a compromise between leaving abruptly and fully repeating last night's intimacy. I can give him the pleasure that he clearly craves without giving into it myself.

I shift down the bed, pushing the sheets aside. Taking him in my mouth feels like a lesser betrayal somehow, a way to give without fully engaging, to maintain some small boundary even as I cross others. I focus on technique, on drawing the sounds of pleasure I hear above me, detaching slightly from the act itself.

The differences between Liam and Nathan are immediately apparent. Liam is larger, both in length and girth, requiring me to adjust my approach. Where Nathan is verbal during intimacy, a constant stream of encouragement and direction, Liam is quieter, his pleasure expressed in subtle sounds and the tension in his body. Nathan has always been slightly impatient, rushing toward climax, but Liam seems content to let the sensation build slowly, his hands nowhere near my hair where Nathan's would be guiding, sometimes forcefully.

These comparisons feel like another betrayal, but I can't stop making them, seeing the differences, finding myself preferring Liam's restrained responses that make each small sound, each quickened breath, feel like a genuine reaction rather than a performance.

"Emma," he groans. "God, that feels amazing."

I feel a flicker of pride at his response, a reminder that I still have power in this situation, that I'm choosing this path rather than simply being swept along by circumstance. As his breathing quickens, his muscles tensing with approaching release, I prepare myself to finish what I've started.

But then his hands are on my shoulders, gently urging me up. "Wait," he says, voice strained. "Not like this."

I look up, confused by the interruption. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says. "I just want to be with you properly. If you want that too."

The question hangs between us... an offer, not a demand. I could say no. Could finish what I started and then leave. Could maintain that last small barrier between what happened last night and what happens this morning.

Instead, I find myself nodding, a decision made not from obligation but from something more complicated... desire mixed with the knowledge that one more transgression hardly matters after what I've already done.

"Yes," I say. "But..." I hesitate, then press on. "Can we... I'd prefer if I don't have to look at you." The words come out harsher than I intended. "I mean..."

"I understand," he says, and somehow I think he does, though he can't possibly know the full context of my reluctance. He reaches for the condom packet on the nightstand, slips one on, then moves behind me as I position myself on hands and knees.

This position feels right for what this is... impersonal, primal, without the intimacy of eye contact that might make me confront too directly what I'm doing. When he enters me, I gasp at the fullness, the rightness of it despite everything.

He moves slowly at first, his hands gentle on my hips. "Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I manage. "Don't stop."

He increases his pace, finding a rhythm that sends waves of unexpected pleasure through me. I hadn't anticipated my body's enthusiastic response, had expected to simply endure, to give rather than receive. But as Liam's movements grow more confident, as one of his hands slides around to touch me at the same time, I find myself responding with increasing urgency.

The orgasm catches me by surprise, crashing through me with an intensity that has my arms giving way and me burying my face in the pillow to muffle my cries. Before I can fully recover, a second orgasm hits hard, God knows where from, leaving me trembling and breathless. Behind me, Liam's movements grow erratic, his grip on my hips tightening as he reaches his own release with a low groan.

For a moment he stays inside me, both catching our breath. Then I pull forward and away, immediately reaching for the sheet to cover myself, suddenly shy despite what we've just shared.

"That was..." Liam begins.

"I need to go," I interrupt, unable to hear whatever sentiment he might offer. "My meeting. I need to prepare."

If he's hurt by my abrupt shift, he doesn't show it. Instead, he nods, giving me space as I gather my scattered clothing from around the room. I dress quickly, avoiding his gaze, trying not to notice as he pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Emma," he says as I step into my heels, fully dressed now but feeling more exposed than when I was naked. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe dinner tonight, before you go back to Doha?"

The invitation sends a wave of panic through me. "I can't," I say quickly. "This was... This shouldn't have happened, Liam. It was wonderful, truly, but it was a mistake. My mistake."

"I don't believe that," he says quietly. "But I understand if that's how you need to frame it."

His perception is uncomfortable, too close to truths I'm not ready to examine. "I should go," I say, reaching for my handbag.

"Can I at least get your number?" he asks, a last attempt at making this something more.

I hesitate, genuinely tempted for a moment. There's something about him, his kindness, his understanding, the way he seems to see me clearly despite our brief acquaintance. Under different circumstances...

But these are the circumstances I have. A boyfriend I've now betrayed as thoroughly as he betrayed me. A life waiting in Doha, and eventually London. Complications I don't need.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I say finally. "For either of us."

Disappointment flickers across his face, but he accepts my decision with grace. "I understand," he says. "For what it's worth, I'm glad we met, Emma. Even if it's just this once."

I manage a small smile, grateful for his lack of recrimination. "Me too," I admit. "Goodbye, Liam."

"Goodbye, Emma."

I leave without looking back, closing the suite door quietly behind me. The hotel corridor stretches before me, pristine and anonymous. It feels like there should be some momentous change, that the lines I've crossed should have some physical manifestation, but of course they don't.

As I walk towards the lift, my heels sinking into the thick carpet, I try to analyse the tangle of emotions inside me. Relief. Guilt. A strange sense of power. Is this what revenge feels like? This hollow victory, this momentary balancing of scales?

But is it even revenge if Nathan never knows? If he continues his desperate attempts to reach me, unaware that I've matched his betrayal with my own? The symmetry exists only in my mind... a private justice that changes nothing between us.

The lift arrives with a soft chime, empty at this early hour. As I step inside and press the button for my floor, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall. I look the same as yesterday, outwardly unchanged by what I've done. Only I know the difference, the invisible line that I've crossed, the version of myself I've discovered capable of actions I once thought impossible.

Perhaps that's the real consequence of Nathan's betrayal... not just the pain he caused, but this new understanding of my own capacity for deception, for using another person to soothe my wounded pride. The knowledge that I am not the person I thought I was.

As the elevator descends, I pull out my phone and open my messages. Five more texts from Nathan since last night, growing increasingly desperate for a response.

Please talk to me, Em.

I can't lose you over one stupid mistake.

I love you more than anything. Please just call me.

I should feel satisfaction that he's suffering, that he's experiencing even a fraction of the pain I felt upon hearing his confession. Instead, I feel a complicated empathy. Now I understand, in a way that I couldn't before, how a single choice made in a moment of emotional vulnerability can lead you somewhere you never thought you'd go.

The lift reaches my floor, doors sliding open to reveal another anonymous corridor. As I walk toward my room, I come to a decision that settles over me with unexpected clarity.

Nathan and I are finished. The trust is broken... not just by what he did, but by what I've done in response. He betrayed me first, yes, but I've proven myself equally capable of betrayal. How could we ever look at each other the same way again? How could we rebuild what's been so thoroughly destroyed?

I won't tell him about Liam, though. That secret is mine to carry alone. Nathan's suffering enough with the knowledge of his own mistake; he doesn't need the additional pain of knowing I matched it. Some truths serve no purpose except to wound, and I've had enough of pain given and received.

When I reach my room, I sit on the edge of the bed and compose a text that's been forming in my mind since I left Liam's suite.

I've had time to think. We need to talk when I'm back in Doha tomorrow. Not before.

Simple. Direct. Final in a way he'll sense even before our conversation.

As I press send, I feel a strange combination of sorrow and release. Something precious has been lost, but with it goes the weight of uncertainty, of wondering whether forgiveness is possible or even desirable. The path ahead is clear now, if lonely.

I set my phone aside and head for the shower, ready to wash away the physical evidence of the night while knowing its impact will remain. I am not the woman I was before Nathan's confession, before Liam, before discovering my own capacity for deception and revenge.

This new version of myself, more complex, less innocent, intimately acquainted with both betrayal and forgiveness withheld, will be the one who walks away from Nathan, the one who returns to London in three months, the one who somehow finds a way forward from here.

Alone, but clear eyed. Wounded, but wiser.

Ready, perhaps, to discover who I might become when I'm no longer defined by what I've lost, but by what I've learned in the losing.