Paige: The Temptation

It was easy for Paige to go from that first rush to finding reasons to stay at the office later and later.

At first, she told herself it was ambition.
The impulse to perform. To excel. To glow.

Not in the ways most women did.

As a beautiful woman, she’d grown up being noticed for her appearance, often in ways that left her uncomfortable. So she’d learned not to lean into her beauty, but into her power.

That felt safe, but it was also when she felt the most like her.

And Daniel brought that out in her.

No.

He saw it.
And gave her permission she hadn’t realized she was waiting for to shine, to radiate, to stun.

She was the sun in full glow, and while most people shielded their eyes or turned away, Daniel basked in her.

Working in finance, surrounded by men—and raised as the only girl in a family of all boys—Paige had never been someone who required affirmation or permission.

Her parents wouldn’t have given her those things anyway.

No. Her language had always been competition. Excellence.

But with Daniel, this felt one and the same.
And she felt like she was allowed to inhabit the full expanse of her skin.

It started with staying late.

The first few nights, she’d slip into their expansive house on the hill well after ten. Rowan would be in the kitchen, washing a mug or reading at the small counter island. He wasn’t angry, but he looked tired, his concern a quiet, predictable hum.

“Rough night?” he’d ask, his voice calm. Just the usual. “Got caught up on the Opex reports.” She’d kiss him quickly, a peck that didn’t require her to look too closely at the faint lines of worry around his eyes.

“Ellie and Cal missed you at bedtime,” he’d say, not as a complaint, but a fact. And Paige would feel a quick, unpleasant pang of guilt, the kind she usually suppressed by reminding herself she was working for their future.

He was safety, warm and utterly predictable. Daniel was anything but.

Emails, reports, and small talk over cooling coffee. They were circling one another in an invisible arc, drawing closer.

Arms brushing, eyes locking. Finding reasons to linger.

It wasn’t intentional or conscious. It was like breathing, and one doesn’t think about breathing.

So, it started with staying late. He said he wanted to go over the numbers again before a presentation.

It wasn’t unusual, not really. But when everyone else left, the air shifted.

Less fluorescent, more alive.

They worked easily, side-by-side in the quiet hum of the after-hours office, the city outside sliding towards midnight.

But they were caught inside a bubble.

At some point, she laughed, really laughed, at something he said.

The sound surprised her. It had been a long time since she’d heard it unguarded. When she glanced at him, he was already looking at her.

And there was that look again, recognition.

For a moment, Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.
Didn’t break eye contact.
Didn’t redirect.
Didn’t close the space.

She just let herself be seen.

After that night, the silence between them grew louder.

A day, then two.
They didn’t mention staying late. Didn’t speak about how close they’d been or how charged the air was between them.

She didn’t talk about it, but she savored it.

Then his name lit up her phone.

I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.

She stared at the message.
She should delete it.
She didn’t.

She looked at the text. She looked at the date and the time stamp, a precise marker the moment the line became irrevocably blurred.

A sharp image of Rowan, Ellie, and Cal on the sofa, all easy, everyday love, flashed through her mind. This was the moment to stop. To delete the message, block the number, and walk away from the flame.

Safe.

The word felt dull, dusty, heavy.

She wanted to shine, to feel the heat. She wanted to be seen without the armor.

She knew why he was thinking about her. It was the same reason she was thinking about him.

They felt inevitable.

She hearted the message. That was all.
But it was far from harmless.

The thread stayed mostly professional at first. Casual quips, meeting reminders, small details that didn’t belong to work, but some how slipped through.

Did you eat today?
Still at your desk?
Your coffee order is ridiculous, by the way.

Every reply made it harder to draw the line she kept promising herself she hadn’t already crossed.

They stayed late again. The office after hours felt like a secret, their secret.

One evening, rain drummed softly against the windows while they went over a presentation side by side.
He leaned closer to point something out on her screen, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

She turned her head just slightly, and the space between them vanished.

One second. Just one second, but it felt like an eternity.

Daniel’s eyes were dark; she could count every eyelash framing those eyes if she wanted to

“Paige, what are we doing?” He murmured so low that even this close the drumming rain almost covered it.

She gave him the full, intense look she knew he loved. Her voice was a little shaky, a little breathless.

“Going over the numbers,” She managed to say as she turned away.

The shared lie, the shared awareness of truth between them, was the most unavoidable moment of the night.

He nodded, pretending not to notice the flush on her face.

When she left that night, she drove home with the windows down, letting the air cool her skin that still felt overheated.

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.

Daniel had written.

At the stoplight, her response was clipped.

Don’t apologize. Nothing happened.

But the truth hung between them. Electric. Charged.

The next night, they were in the kitchen. Rowan was at the stove, stirring pasta, a quiet blues record playing. Ellie was finishing her homework on Paige’s iPad at the counter.

Paige’s phone was on the counter, but it was synced to the iPad.

Her heart hammered as the device lit up, the banner notifications appearing one by one, visible on the screen Ellie was staring at.

A series of texts. Short. Unguarded. Intimate.

Paige.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
I should be sorry, but I’m not.
I take back my apology.

Paige froze, watching from across the island.

Ellie’s small shoulders tensed. She was old enough to be confused. Old enough to know what she was reading wasn’t for her. Old enough to know it was a secret.

She didn’t look at Paige. She didn’t ask, “Mom, who’s Daniel?”

She just… went quiet.

With a small, deliberate movement, Ellie finished her math problem, closed the app, and slid the iPad back toward the center of the counter. She didn’t look at her mother.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice flat, all the light gone from it. “I’m going to my room.”

“Ellie, wait, honey…” Paige started, her voice too bright, too fake.

But Ellie was already gone, walking up the stairs, leaving a vacuum in her wake.

Rowan turned from the stove, holding a wooden spoon, oblivious. “Dinner’s ready. Where’d El go? She okay?”

“Just… tired,” Paige said. The lie felt thick in her throat.

“Okay. Can you grab Cal?” he asked, smiling at her, a smile of such easy, unearned trust it made her want to be sick.

Paige nodded, her heart pounding a sick, heavy rhythm. She looked at the iPad. The texts had vanished from the lock screen, but they were still there, inside the device, inside her daughter’s head.

The world hadn’t cracked open with a sound.

It had just fractured, silently, from the inside. And her daughter was now trapped in the fissure with her. This was the moment she had to carry.

This was the first day of the long, awful secret.

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New here? This you can start Paige’s Story from the beginning.

Continue Paige’s Story with Part 3: The Attempt.

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Want to read about the woman who built a new life with Rowan? Read Mira’s Story.

Want to read about the “strong friend” Paige’s mirror helped shatter? Read Halley’s Story.