When Aleksa grew dizzy and collapsed beside the table, Tamara immediately called for help. She left the apartment door open and waited beside him, holding her phone. Only when the crew arrived did she remember that her husband was due back from a trip. On the table were two glasses and a dinner she never made for herself.

Aleksa had come as a colleague, supposedly to discuss a project. Their affair had lasted four months. Each time, Tamara said she first had to resolve her marriage, then found another week she needed to wait. That evening, she had planned to discuss ending things, or so she repeated to herself while lighting the candles.

In the ambulance, Aleksa regained consciousness. A medical worker asked him questions and made notes. Tamara felt such powerful relief that she began to cry. Then, almost in the same breath, she asked whether the record could say he had become ill in the street. The worker paused with her pen.

"I can write down what happened," she replied calmly. She gave no speech about adultery. She asked whether Tamara would accompany them to the hospital. Tamara nodded, looking at her shoes. Aleksa turned away from her. Even then, she felt angry that he had not helped her invent an answer.

In the waiting room, her husband sent a photograph of his suitcase: he had arrived early. Her finger had already begun typing a story about an unexpected meeting. She deleted it. She called him, said where she was and who she was with, and told him she needed to explain their relationship. At the other end, she heard only the zipper on his bag being lowered.

He did not come to cause a scene. He said he would spend the night at his brother's. After examination, Aleksa was discharged with the doctor's instructions. Tamara did not take him back to the apartment. She called a taxi and waited until he got in. They parted without a cinematic line. Both were tired and pale, and for the first time they had nowhere to hide behind the same story.

The conversations with her husband lasted weeks and ended in separation. Tamara did not offer the emergency as a reason for forgiveness. She signed an agreement about the apartment, found temporary accommodation and told their mutual friends only what they had both agreed to share. The hardest part was stopping herself from managing everyone else's impression of her.

Later, she met the medical worker in the street. She thanked her for helping Aleksa. She wanted to add something about the question in the ambulance, but the worker simply nodded and continued toward her shift. Tamara stood on the pavement for a few moments, freed from the need to have a stranger confirm that she was good again.