Chapter 3: New Opportunities

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as I restock the shelves, my hands moving mechanically while my mind wanders. Jack's voice cuts through my reverie, warm and familiar.

"Samantha, can I see you in my office for a moment?"

I nod, my heart quickening as I follow him. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, and I catch a whiff of his cologne as I slip past. The scent lingers, comforting yet dangerous.

Jack leans against his desk, a grin spreading across his face. "I've got some news."

"Oh?" I try to keep my voice steady, fighting the urge to smooth my hair.

"I've been promoted to regional manager," he announces, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

My stomach drops. "That's... wonderful," I manage, forcing a smile. But inside, I'm reeling. Regional manager means he won't be here every day. No more stolen glances across the store, no more lingering touches as we pass tools back and forth.

"You don't seem thrilled," Jack says, his brow furrowing.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the selfish thoughts. "No, I am. Really. It's just..." I trail off, unsure how to express the loss I'm already feeling.

"Just what?" He steps closer, and I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

"We won't see each other every day," I admit, my cheeks flushing. "I mean, the store won't see you every day. It'll be different."

Jack's expression softens. "Samantha," he says, my name a caress on his lips. "This doesn't change anything between us."

But it does, I think. It changes everything. How can I go back to my hollow marriage, my unfulfilling life, without the daily promise of Jack's presence? His promotion feels like a door closing, leaving me trapped in a world I've outgrown.

"I'm happy for you," I say aloud, the words tasting like ash. "You deserve it."

Jack reaches out, his fingers brushing my arm. Electricity crackles between us, and for a moment, I let myself imagine a different life. But reality crashes back as his hand falls away.

"Thank you," he says softly. "Your support means everything to me."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As I turn to leave, I wonder how I'll survive without these moments, these small connections that have become my lifeline. The hardware store suddenly feels colder, emptier, and I brace myself for the long, lonely days ahead.

As I'm about to push open the door to the break room, Jack's voice stops me. "Oh, Samantha? I almost forgot to mention."

I turn back, my heart skipping. Jack's eyes are twinkling, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "My first assignment as regional manager? It's right here at our store."

"Here?" I echo, hardly daring to believe it.

He nods, leaning against the doorframe. "Full inventory check. It's going to take at least a week, maybe two."

Relief washes over me like a warm summer rain, melting away the icy dread that had gripped my heart moments ago. I try to keep my voice steady, but I can hear the tremor of joy in it. "That's... that's great news, Jack. The team will be thrilled to have you around a bit longer."

"And you?" he asks, his gaze holding mine. "How do you feel about it?"

I pause, caught between honesty and propriety. "I'm... relieved," I admit finally. "It'll give us all time to adjust to the changes."

Jack steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne – a heady mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him. "I'm glad," he says softly. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet."

My breath catches in my throat. There's so much I want to say, so much I can't say. Instead, I manage a smile. "Well, we'd better get started on that inventory then, hadn't we?"

As we walk out of the break room together, I can feel the warmth of Jack's presence beside me. The store suddenly seems brighter, full of possibility. For the first time in years, I feel a spark of hope igniting in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something new.

Jack leads the way to the tools section, his confident stride drawing my eyes. "Let's tackle the toughest part first," he says, flashing that disarming smile. "Tools are always a nightmare to count."

I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "Good thinking. Better to get it out of the way early."

We begin the tedious task of counting and recording each item. Jack's presence makes even this mundane chore feel charged with possibility. I steal glances at him as he works, admiring the way his brow furrows in concentration.

"You know," Jack says, breaking the comfortable silence, "I've always admired how organized you keep this section."

Heat rises to my cheeks. "Thanks. I try to stay on top of it."

As we reach for the same wrench, our hands brush. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, and I gasp involuntarily. Jack's eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the world stands still.

"Sorry," I mumble, pulling my hand back.

"Don't be," Jack says softly, his gaze still fixed on me.

My heart races as I try to process what just happened. It was only a touch, barely anything at all, but it felt like so much more. I want to say something, anything, but words fail me.

Jack clears his throat. "We should, uh, probably keep going."

"Right," I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

As we resume our work, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us. The air feels thick with unspoken words and possibilities. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps drifting back to that electric moment of connection.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of stolen glances and lingering smiles. Every time Jack's eyes meet mine, my stomach flutters with a giddy excitement I haven't felt in years. I float through my tasks, barely registering the customers or my coworkers. It's as if Jack and I exist in our own little bubble, separate from the rest of the world.

"Samantha?" Jack's voice breaks through my reverie. "I think we're done for today. Great job on the inventory."

I blink, surprised to find the day has flown by. "Oh, right. Thanks, Jack. It was... nice working with you."

He grins, and I swear my heart skips a beat. "The pleasure was all mine. See you tomorrow?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. As I gather my things to leave, I can feel Jack's eyes on me. The weight of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine.

The drive home is a blur of streetlights and daydreams. My hands grip the steering wheel, but my mind is back in the store, replaying every moment with Jack. The brush of his hand, the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at my jokes.

"What are you doing, Samantha?" I mutter to myself, shaking my head. But I can't shake the image of Jack from my mind.

At a red light, I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. There's a glow to my cheeks, a brightness in my eyes that I haven't seen in ages. I barely recognize myself.

"It's nothing," I tell my reflection. "Just a harmless crush. It'll pass."

But even as I say the words, I know they're a lie. This feeling, this connection with Jack, it's anything but harmless. And deep down, a part of me hopes it never passes.

I pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of our house greeting me. The porch light casts a warm glow, but the windows are dark. As I step inside, the silence envelops me like a heavy blanket.

"Victoria? Alex?" I call out, my voice echoing through the empty hallway.

No response.

I climb the stairs, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Victoria's door is closed, a sliver of light peeking out from underneath. I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Should I knock? Try to talk to her?

But what would I say? How are you? How was school? The words feel hollow, inadequate.

I let my hand fall to my side, a sigh escaping my lips. "Goodnight, sweetie," I whisper to the closed door.

In the living room, I find Alex, hunched over his computer. The blue glow of the screen illuminates his face, casting harsh shadows across his features. He doesn't look up as I enter.

"Hey," I say, trying to inject some warmth into my voice. "How was your day?"

Alex grunts, his eyes never leaving the screen. The rapid-fire clicking of his mouse fills the room.

"Alex?" I try again.

He adjusts his headset, leaning closer to the screen. "Not now, Sam. I'm in the middle of a raid."

I stand there for a moment, watching him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his lips moving silently as he communicates with his online teammates. He looks so... distant. So unreachable.

"I'll just... start dinner then," I murmur, knowing he won't hear me.

As I turn to leave, a memory flashes through my mind. Jack's smile, warm and inviting. The way he looked at me, really looked at me, when we talked.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. But it lingers, a bittersweet ache in my chest.

I drift into the kitchen, my hands moving on autopilot as I pull ingredients from the fridge. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board becomes a backdrop to my wandering thoughts.

Jack's face swims into focus in my mind's eye. His bright eyes, crinkled at the corners with laughter. The way his hand brushed mine today, sending electricity coursing through my veins.

"God, Sam, get it together," I mutter to myself, shaking my head.

But the daydream persists. I imagine Jack here, in this kitchen. He'd lean against the counter, sleeves rolled up, offering to help.

"Need a hand with that, Samantha?" I can almost hear him say, his voice warm and inviting.

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see him there. Instead, I catch sight of Alex through the doorway, still glued to his game.

A pang of guilt mixes with an odd sense of longing. I turn back to the stove, stirring the simmering pot with more force than necessary.

"It's not fair to compare them," I whisper, but my traitorous mind continues anyway.

Jack would ask about my day, wouldn't he? He'd notice if I was upset or distracted. Unlike Alex, who barely looked up when I came home.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Stop it, Sam. Just stop."

But the comparisons keep coming. Jack's easy laughter versus Alex's terse responses. The way Jack's eyes light up when he talks about his passions, while Alex... when was the last time I saw that spark in Alex's eyes?

"Dinner's ready!" I call out, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

As I set the table, I can't help but wonder: When did my husband become a stranger? And why does Jack feel so familiar?