Chapter 34: Mrs. Walbury’s Secrets
Mrs. Walbury didn’t follow him immediately.
She stood in the kitchen for a moment after he’d moved back to the living room, kettle still warm in her hand, watching the space he’d just left. There was something about his calm that she couldn’t quite place — the way he’d pulled back without sulking, without pushing, just... accepted the wall and went and sat down. Like he wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere.
’What exactly is driving this boy?’
She genuinely didn’t know. And that, she realised, was the part that was bothering her.
She gathered what she needed and carried her own mug through, settling onto the couch beside him — not too close, but not pointedly far either. David had his hands wrapped around his mug, eyes moving idly across the room, completely at ease in someone else’s home in the way only certain kinds of people managed.
She studied him sideways for a moment.
"You know..." she started, "you’re an interesting one. Curiosity, confidence—" she tilted her head slightly, "—and something else I haven’t figured out yet."
David glanced at her, the edge of a smile on his face.
"Should I be flattered or worried?"
"Depends on what I find."
He let out a quiet laugh and took another sip. "Well. Take your time."
She watched him over the rim of her mug. He was comfortable in silences in a way that was almost disarming — not filling them, not performing, just sitting in them. Most people couldn’t do that. Most people, especially young ones, talked when they were nervous.
David didn’t seem nervous about anything.
"You ask a lot of questions," she said finally.
"I’m a curious person."
"About people’s private lives."
"About people," he corrected, easy. "There’s a difference." He set his mug down on the table lightly. "I’m not trying to expose anything. I just think people are interesting. Especially people that clearly have more going on than what they show."
She held his gaze for a second, then looked away.
"And you think that’s me."
"I think that’s most people worth talking to."
A quiet settled between them. Outside, somewhere down the corridor, a door opened and closed in a distant apartment, muffled and far away. The building breathing around them.
Mrs. Walbury turned her mug slowly in her hands.
"I’ll tell you what," she said, something shifting in her tone — lighter now, almost playful. "If you can guess it... I’ll be honest with you."
David raised an eyebrow. "Guess what?"
"Whatever it is you’ve been circling around all night."
He looked at her for a moment, reading her face.
"And if I guess right, you’ll actually tell me."
"One honest answer." She held up a finger. "But—" and here the playfulness solidified into something a little more real, "—only on one condition."
"Which is?"
"That if you somehow manage to make it into Hunter Academy..." She said it with a small smile, like she was letting him in on a joke, "you don’t forget me. Your first trainer."
David looked at her. Something in his chest shifted — not dramatically, but genuinely.
"You mean more to me than that already," he said. "More than any of them. You don’t have to put conditions on it." He held her gaze. "I won’t forget you."
She blinked. Just once. Then looked down at her mug, something quiet moving across her face that she didn’t quite manage to fold away in time.
"Okay," she said softly. "One guess then."
David leaned back slightly, studying her with the focused calm of someone approaching a problem.
"Your husband..." He said it carefully. "He can’t satisfy you."
The words landed in the room.
Mrs. Walbury stared at him for a full second — and then she started laughing. Not a polite laugh. A real one, the kind that caught her off guard, her hand coming up briefly to her mouth.
"God, no." She shook her head, still smiling. "But... you’re not completely wrong either."
David nodded slowly, recalibrating.
"He’s not home," he tried. "Is that it? He’s away too much and—"
"He’s not home, yes." The smile faded slightly. "But that’s not it."
David sat with that for a moment. Both obvious doors, tried and half-opened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, genuinely thinking.
At the edge of his vision, unhurried as ever, a notification drifted up.
[Temptation Level: 39%]
He blinked internally.
’When did it get that high?’
He hadn’t noticed it climbing. But then — he remembered. The system read what people were actually thinking, not just what they said.
Which meant that somewhere underneath all of Mrs. Walbury’s careful composure, something had been running warm for a while now.
He filed that away quietly.
She was watching him, waiting.
David exhaled through his nose.
"You know what? I give up." He spread his hands. "Tell me."
She looked at him for a long moment. Then, with the specific resignation of someone who has been holding something for too long in a room that finally feels safe enough—
"I just don’t love him anymore."
She said it plainly. No drama in it. Just a fact she’d clearly made peace with long before tonight.
"That’s it. That’s all it is." She set her mug down beside the coffee table nested infront of the couches.
"He’s a hunter — big name, good reputation, never home. And when he is home, I’m... furniture. Something that gets maintained but not really seen." She paused, turning something over.
"I spent years thinking I was asking for too much. That I was being difficult." A small, dry exhale.
"Turns out I just wanted to actually live. To be looked at like I matter. To be — pampered, honestly, I’m not ashamed of saying it. And I figured that out too late to pretend otherwise."
The room was quiet after that.
David nodded slowly. Not with surprise — more with the quiet acknowledgment of someone who had suspected as much and was simply glad she’d said it out loud.
"That’s not so bad," he said. "Honestly."
She looked at him.
"I mean it." He shrugged. "Knowing what you want isn’t a flaw. Most people spend their whole lives not figuring that out."
She was quiet for a moment, studying him.
"You’re very calm about this."
"Should I not be?"
"Most people would have opinions."
"I have opinions," David said. "I’m just smart enough to keep them for the right moment." He glanced at her sideways, and then, because he couldn’t entirely help himself —
"Although, genuinely, I do wonder— sex toys? — you couldn’t just, I don’t know, find someone?"
The question landed with the exact level of audacity it deserved.
Mrs. Walbury’s face went through three expressions in quick succession before settling firmly on something between mortified and desperately trying not to laugh. The colour that rose to her cheeks was immediate and involuntary and completely genuine.
"David—"
"I’m just saying—"
"Do not finish that sentence."
He pressed his lips together, but his eyes were laughing.
She picked up her mug and took a very long, composed sip, staring determinedly ahead at nothing in particular, cheeks still faintly warm.
"I’m a woman of values. I believe in marriage, you know?"
The silence stretched.
Then, despite everything, the corner of her mouth curved upward.
"Yet, here we are."
