James sat in the sweltering motel room as beads of sweat traced paths down his forehead, waiting for Ashley’s arrival. The clanking of the air conditioner gasped in mechanical protest when a soft knock pierced the door.

“Is that you, Ashley?” James’s voice carried both anticipation and restraint.

A gentle voice slipped under the door. “Yes, it’s me.”

James approached and peered through the peephole. On the other side stood Ashley, her red blouse and black skirt giving her an air of casual elegance. Their eyes met with a surge of unspoken connection.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” James replied, stepping back.

She entered slowly, the room catching a brief charge of energy. Their lips met briefly, a hesitant connection ignited by tension rather than passion.

“You’re so sweet,” Ashley said with a soft smile.

James closed the door behind her. “Have a seat; let me get you some water.”

He moved to a small round table and returned with a glass filled with ice water. “It’s getting warm in here,” he said, glancing toward the aging air conditioner.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ashley took the glass. “Thank you. This heat is getting to me.”

She drank, letting the cold water soothe her. Then, setting the glass on the nightstand, she turned to James, who had now joined her on the bed.

He sat close, his hand brushing lightly against her knee in a moment of closeness—but before anything else could build, Ashley placed her hand gently over his.

“James, wait,” she said firmly. “We need to talk.”

The spark between them faded just enough for clarity to seep in.

“I… I can’t keep hiding this,” she began. “My husband is growing suspicious. I think it’s time we come clean. I need to tell him about us. And you need to do the same.”

James took a long breath. “I know, Ashley. I’ve been thinking about it too. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I love you, James.”

“I love you too,” he replied, voice low.

He stood, walking toward the window where the air conditioner had gone silent. Ashley watched him, concern etched on her face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

James knelt to plug it back in. The unit groaned back to life, its hum cutting through the heavy silence.

He hesitated, then spoke without turning. “I’m sorry. This… this was just supposed to be a little getaway from the office.”

The words struck Ashley like a slap. She froze, stunned, struggling to comprehend. She wrapped her arms around herself, gaze dropping.

“But… James, what about…” she whispered, voice cracking.

James turned around, pain flickering across his face. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I truly am.”

Emotion surged through her. She reached for the glass, but her trembling fingers failed her. The glass slipped, crashing to the floor and scattering ice and water like shattered resolve.

“I don’t… understand,” she whispered, her voice barely holding back the storm building inside her.

James rubbed the back of his neck, his voice low and steady—almost too calm. “I told you, Ashley… we’re going to get through this. I’m keeping my promise.”