**Diary Entry 25th June 2023**
Bloody hell. Never thought Id be scribbling this down, but here we are.
It all started at Emilys leavers ball planning meeting. Mrs. ThompsonYear 13s form tutorlooked ready to throttle Tatiana when she suggested releasing live butterflies during the ceremony.
*»Have you lost the plot? This isnt the blooming Chelsea Flower Show!»* shed snapped.
Tatiana, of course, doubled down. *»Its their last school event! Shouldnt it be special?»*
I sat quiet in the corner, mind elsewhere. Work deadlines, the gas bill Id forgotten to pay, and the nagging worry about Jamesdistant lately, working late more often than not.
*»Sarah, loveyou organise corporate events. What do you think?»* Mrs. Thompsons voice snapped me back.
*»Keep it simple,»* I said. *»Good music, a photo booth, decent catering. No need for circus acts.»*
Tatiana huffed. *»Typical. Always counting pennies.»*
*»Ask Emily,»* I shot back. *»Unless you think a swarm of insects in her hair counts as a core memory.»*
Tatiana sulked, but the vote went my way. One less fire to put out. Now if only I could figure out why James had been so off lately.
Called him on the walk home. *»Still at the office?»*
*»Yeah. Projects a nightmare. Dont wait up.»*
Third time this week. Something in his voicenot just tired. Irritated. Guarded. Like I was prying just by asking.
At home, Emily was buried in A-level revision, though her exams were done. *»So? Did you save us from Tatianas butterfly farm?»*
*»Barely,»* I said, chopping veg for dinner. *»Dads working late again.»*
She shrugged. *»Shocker.»* Then, hesitant: *»Mum dyou ever think hes»*
My knife stilled. *»Think what?»*
*»Never mind.»*
But the seed was planted. Twenty years married, and suddenly hes deleting texts, taking calls in the garden. Id brushed it off*James isnt that sort*but now even Emily had noticed.
—
Ball night. Hair done, nails done, wearing that navy dress Emily insisted on (*»Make the other mums jealous»*). Our girl looked radiant in white, clutching her A-level certificates.
*»Stop crying or Ill disown you,»* she muttered, eyes suspiciously bright.
James was meant to meet us there. No show by kickoff. Texted him*On my way*just as Emily walked up for her awards. Thats when I spotted him.
By the far wall. With *her*.
Tall blonde in a red dress, whispering in his ear. Him smilingthat *private* smile, the one he used to save for us.
My stomach dropped. So *thats* why the late nights. The secrecy. And hed the audacity to bring her to *Emilys leavers ball*?
Emily beamed at us both, oblivious. I sat rigid through the speeches, pulse hammering. *How could he?*
At the reception, James finally appearedalone. *»Sorry Im late.»*
*»I saw.»* Ice in my voice. *»Whos your friend?»*
Confusion, then realisation. *»Bloody hell, Sarah. Thats Clairemy new MDs daughter. Just moved from Manchester. Boss asked me to show her round.»*
Bullshit. But then he introduced us. Claire was polite, clearly awkward about intruding. *»Your daughters lovely. So sorry to crash!»*
Doubt crept in. Maybe Id imagined it all.
Later, walking to the car park, James finally came cleanbut not about an affair.
*»Ive not been well. Back pain got worse. Scans showed something dodgy.»*
My throat closed. *»What?»*
*»Benign, thank God. Needs surgery, but its manageable. Didnt want to worry you before Emilys big night.»*
I grabbed his arm. *»You idiot. Were supposed to face this *together*.»*
He hugged me tight. *»I know. Sorry.»*
As for Claire? Pure coincidence. Engaged, actuallyher fiancé visiting next week.
Laughed then, proper daft with relief. All that drama, all my wild suspicions and the truth was simpler. Scarier, but simpler.
James squeezed my hand. *»Never doubt it, Sarah. Never.»*
Twenty years. Through layoffs, mortgages, raising Emily. Weve weathered worse.
Lesson learned: Jumping to conclusions just leaves you bruised. Trusts harderbut Christ, its worth it.
