Chapter 1
It was a grey, sleepy Tuesday when Spencer Lambert first saw her like that.
He hadn't wanted to leave the house that morning-not because home was warm, but because it wasn't. The semi-detached in Horbury felt more like a prison these days. Since Adam was born four months ago, his wife Linda had been... different. Detached. She spent hours hunched over her phone, the baby propped beside her like an afterthought while she scrolled TikTok and Instagram on repeat. The house was a mess, and Spencer-after a full day at MATWA Technologies-would come home to piles of laundry, dishes from two days ago, and Wade bouncing off the walls, desperate for attention.
And Linda? She'd look up only long enough to ask what was for tea.
This morning had been no different. He'd scrambled to find clean socks, made Wade's packed lunch, changed a nappy, and shovelled a corner of cold toast into his mouth as he hurried out the door. It was only once he was behind the wheel of his ageing Ford Focus that he felt the tight coil in his chest ease slightly.
Work, at least, made sense. Marketing targets. Analytics. Banter with Ryan and Jack . Lunches that didn't involve pureed carrot on his shirt.
Traffic was crawling near the roundabout by Wakefield Coal Mining Museum when he saw her.
Sasha.
She was walking briskly, arms clutched around her long coat, even though the air was mild for late November . Her eyes were red. Her lip was split. A dark bruise shadowed her right cheekbone like a smudged fingerprint.
His body reacted before his brain did. He swerved into a side road, hazards blinking. Leaning across the passenger seat, he rolled down the window.
"Oi, Fox," he called gently, voice soft but urgent. "Get in."
She hesitated, blinking as if she wasn't quite sure he was real. Then she wiped at her face quickly-as if that would erase the damage-opened the door, and climbed in silently.
The door clicked shut. Spencer smelled lavender and coffee on her. Her hands were trembling in her lap.
They drove for a minute in silence. The engine purred low. Outside, buses growled past and pigeons pecked at kebab wrappers.
Finally, her voice came. Small. Cracked.
"My husband... he found out I'd been talking to Kelsey. About leaving. He lost it. Threw my phone. My purse. I couldn't find my bank cards. Didn't have money for the bus."
Spencer gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles paled. "Jesus, Sasha."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, turning her face toward the window.
She wasn't. And he knew it.
But he didn't push. Instead, he turned the heater up a notch and focused on the road, heart beating louder than the radio.
The MATWA Canteen - Wednesday Lunchtime
The MATWA Technologies canteen was its usual noisy chaos-plastic trays clattering, kettle steam hissing, and someone's awful Spotify playlist playing through tinny Bluetooth speakers.
Over in the back corner, where the vending machines buzzed and a faded pool table leaned slightly to one side, Spencer and Ryan were mid-game.
"Come on, Lambert, that shot was shite," Ryan cackled, chalking his cue like he was on the televised championships. "Even Linda could've sunk that red, and she's got a baby hanging off each tit."
Spencer snorted. "At least she's good for something, then."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Wow. That's dark, even for you."
Spencer lined up another shot, jaw tightening. He missed. Again.
"Jesus, you're hopeless today. What's got your knickers in a knot?" Ryan teased.
"Just tired," Spencer muttered. "Didn't sleep. Adam was up half the night, and Wade wet the bed."
"Ah," Ryan said with exaggerated sympathy. "The glamorous life of a married man. Bet Sasha doesn't have piss sheets to deal with."
Spencer froze slightly at her name. Then recovered. "You're an idiot."
"And yet you're still losing," Ryan said, grinning as he sank the black.
At that moment, Sasha appeared, holding a tray with a tea and a Ham sandwich. She was in dark jeans and a lilac knit jumper today-simple, but soft. Comfortable. Her hair was loose, curling slightly at the ends.
"You two done flirting yet?" she asked with a smirk.
"Depends," Ryan said, leaning dramatically against the cue. "You fancy a go? Spencer's just lost, and his ego needs stroking."
Sasha arched an eyebrow. "If I wanted to stroke anything, it wouldn't be a pool cue."
"Bloody hell," Ryan said, cackling. "You're dangerous."
Spencer chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's sit down."
They migrated to the booth near the windows, Sasha sliding in first, followed by Spencer and then Ryan. Spencer's thigh brushed hers again-a flicker of contact that shouldn't have mattered, but did.
"Ryan was just getting his ego handed to him," Spencer said.
"Lies," Ryan grinned. "Although I admit defeat when Sasha's around. She terrifies me."
"You should be terrified of your wardrobe choices," she shot back, eyeing his bright orange t-shirt
They laughed, and for a while it was easy. Ryan made inappropriate jokes about the office coffee machine vibrating in a "suspiciously enjoyable" way, and Sasha just laughed
But when Ryan got up to grab a Coke, Spencer turned to her, voice low.
"You okay today? Really?"
The laughter in her eyes faded slightly. She nodded. Then paused.
"Better than this morning. Just doing the best I can.
She looked at him then, really looked at him. Something warm flickered in her expression-something that could be dangerous if they let it grow.
"You've been... kind," she said.
Before he could answer, Ryan flopped back down with 2 yoghurts and zero boundaries.
"Right! I got my yogurt snacks and an important update-Jack deffo fancies me ." He said as Jack walked in
"God yeah, Ryan, all I think about is you," Jack said, blowing him a kiss
Ryan, Sasha, and Spencer Laughed
"God, I love lunch with you, Loons, " Sasha said, getting up to go back to her desk
