All confessions shared in Jeff’s Corner are fictional.
Previously in People Change
Here’s what Mark wrote to me after Claire returned from Paris:
Hi Jeff,
Claire returned from Paris late on Thursday night, and we didn’t have a chance to talk. I only stirred when she slipped under the duvet. By the time I woke up the next morning, she’d already left for the office.
I was restless. I couldn’t focus, so called in sick. And at nine, I did something I wasn’t entirely sure I should have done. I found Ricardo’s number in the WhatsApp group on Claire’s computer and called him.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“I’m Claire’s husband.”
Silence. For a moment I wondered if he’d hung up.
“Ricardo, look,” I said. “Just a chat. I’m not looking for a fight or anything. I need to clear a few things up.”
He remained silent.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Where?”
“At Starbucks near your office. Half ten.”
“Okay.”
He hung up.
I rushed to the station.
It felt strange sitting in the café, waiting for a man I somehow knew far more about than I’d ever wanted to.
I’d never met him before but recognised him immediately as he paused in the doorway, scanning the café.
He was taller than I’d expected, immaculately dressed in a dark suit, carrying himself with an easy confidence.
I felt a flash of jealousy, perhaps even animosity.
That’s the man who fucked my wife.
Yet what I hated admitting, even to myself, was that beneath the jealousy there was also arousal. Not because of him—I’m not attracted to men—but because I couldn’t stop imagining him with Claire. Wondering what had happened in that hotel room.
I raised a hand.
He saw me and walked over, pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down.
“Won’t you grab a coffee?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve already had one.”
“I’m Mark,” I said.
“Ricardo.” He smiled. “Though I suppose you already knew that.”
I smiled back. For just a moment it almost felt as though we could have been friends.
Then we both remembered why we were there.
The warmth faded from his expression as he settled into his chair.
I looked down at my coffee. I wasn’t really in the mood to drink it.
I glanced around to make sure nobody was listening, then looked back at him. “So… how was it?”
A small, knowing smile crossed his face. Not smug. Not mocking. If anything, he looked sympathetic.
He shrugged. “It was good.”
I swallowed hard. “Did she enjoy it?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “She did.”
“How many times?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m not going to answer that. You’ll have to ask her if she wants to tell you.”
I looked down at my cup. “Was it only once?”
For the first time, there was the faintest hint of annoyance in his voice. “Told you, mate. I’m not going to talk about that.”
Silence settled between us once again.
I turned my coffee cup slowly between my hands while Ricardo watched the steady stream of customers queuing at the counter.
I’d come here with a plan. At least, I thought I had. I’d rehearsed questions in my head, trying to separate the jealousy from the arousal. Yet every question I considered suddenly felt ridiculous. Still, the man had agreed to meet me. He’d come simply because I’d asked.
I looked up.
He met my gaze and gave me a cautious smile.
It was as if he were saying, Go on, mate. I’m here.
I cleared my throat. “Why did you do it?”
He almost laughed, caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. “Because…” He lowered his voice. “She’s gorgeous, mate. Why wouldn’t I?”
For a few moments neither of us looked away.
My heart was pounding. Jealousy tightened my chest, yet beneath it the same unwelcome excitement lingered.
Another question forced its way out. “Why did she do it?”
His smile disappeared. “Didn’t you ask her?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He drew a slow breath before speaking. “Well, that’s a question only she can answer.”
Another silence settled between us before I broke it. “Still… why do you think she did it?”
He looked away for a second, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table before meeting my eyes again.
“I think…” he said, “she needed it.”
I frowned. “Needed it?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Frustration crept into my voice. “You mean she needed you?”
“No. That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced around the café, then leaned forward. “I’m not anything special, mate.” He sat back, looking uncomfortable himself. “She needed… a physical encounter.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I can only guess.”
“What? Something she wasn’t getting from me?”
He thought for a moment. “No… not exactly. If anything, she spoke very fondly of you.”
I stared at him, more confused than before. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” He gave a small, helpless smile.
After another pause, he spoke again. “I don’t think it was because of me or you.” He searched for the right words. “It felt like something she needed to do for herself.”
I sat quietly, turning that over in my mind.
“Perhaps,” I said at last.
He nodded. “Perhaps. But honestly, mate… that’s something the two of you need to figure out.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “It was nice meeting you, Mark.”
“You too,” I said, almost mechanically.
He smiled, turned, and headed for the exit with the same quiet confidence he’d arrived with.
I watched him disappear through the glass doors, convinced Claire had done it but feeling no closer to understanding why.
🔖 Want to know what happened next?
Mark went looking for answers. He left convinced something had happened between Claire and Ricardo—but no closer to understanding why.
In the next confession, he finally sits down with Claire. But will she give him the answers Ricardo couldn’t?
Part III of People Change will be published here next month.