The other woman was stunning. If she were a man, shed pick her own.
There are women who know their worth. They walk with dignity, look straight ahead, listen intently. Their movements are calm; they dont have to flash a shoulder or a back to attract attention. They carry themselves like royalty, never panic.
She would have chosen her tooexactly the opposite of herself.
Why? Because she was constantly rushing, shouting at the children and at her husband, dropping things left and right, never finishing anything. Work was a mountain, the boss perpetually dissatisfied. She spent every day in trousers and a sweatshirttshirt combo. Ironing a blouse was a herculean task; shed forgotten the last time she smoothed out a ruffle. Fortunately, her modern tumble dryer flattened the laundry so well that the iron was almost redundant.
The lover, however, was exquisite. Figure, posture, legs, hair, eyes, faceshe seemed unbreathable.
She hadnt breathed easy since she first saw him. By accident, on a work trip to a farflung part of the city, she ducked into the first café she could find for a bite. The job was done, but hunger was no joke. The place was packed; a quiet corner opened up, she slid into it, opened the menu and looked up. It wasnt a trick of the eyeshe recognised her husband from behind and then saw the other woman.
He was holding her hand in his palm, kissing her fingers. How vulgar, Annabelle thought, like a perfume advertisement. Yet the woman was undeniably attractive.
She ordered soup and a salad, ate without tasting, and lingered, hoping they would leave. She feared being seen. It was pointless to fearher husband wasnt interested in the world around him at that moment.
A strange sensation settled over her, like the seconds after a burn when you see the red line and know pain is imminent, yet you try to fan the skin to lessen it. It should have hurt; inside she felt empty instead.
Thomas returned on time, his mood steady and even. He was a true sanguine, measured, reliable, with a dry sense of humour.
She could have used that humour now; it didnt fit the situation.
All evening she wanted to ask, in a calm voice, Hows your lover? I saw you both at Café Willow earlier. Shes lovely, isnt she? Id understand. She imagined watching the beads of sweat form on his forehead, his cheeks reddening as he tried to stay composed.
Then she might have added, What now? Introduce the kids, get them to like the new mum. And what about me? Will I get a flat or be taken in?
She said none of that. Thomas slipped into the bedroom, pulled her close, and fell asleep.
Maybe they werent having sex yet, she thought, sliding onto her side of the bed and laughing silently. She imagined herself as a woman caught cheating in the very act, yet insisting it was a misunderstanding.
Perhaps they were still in the prelude stageglances, synchronized breathing, thoughts in unison. Thomas was a hidden lover, and she was left with no words or muscles to act.
She tossed around in bed, slept in fragments, dreaming of bright flowers and strangers in scarlet gowns.
She awoke with a heavy head, moved through the flat slower than usual, calmly got the children ready for school.
All the while she wondered what a woman does when her husband is caught with a lover. Google it? The internet offered no answers. She had none herself. Should she try to go on? Of course she did; life continued in its familiar rhythmThomas arriving home on time, shirt free of lipstick or foreign perfume, the kids bouncing about, Sunday trips to the cinema. No behavioural changes. Sex still twice a week, sometimes three times if she was attentive.
Had she simply misidentified the café in that distant district? No. She called him at lunch; he didnt answer. She hailed a black cab and raced back to the same café, concocing a plausible story for the driver about waiting for a parcel for work. Thomass car was parked opposite. He and the lover stepped out together, climbed into his vehicle and drove away.
She turned pale, asked the driver for a glass of water, pretended to phone someone and shouted into the void, Forget you and your parcel! Im off to work! She cared little about the drivers opinion of her.
Knowing a lover exists can change a life dramatically. Divorce? Perhaps. How else to live? Tolerate? Why? For what?
She recalled a friends husband who had an affair a few years back. He hid, masked, but the wife eventually discovered a trail of undeleted messages. He denied everything, blaming rivals. Eventually he admitted, saying, Id never lie. If you value the family, own up, or leave and support them. Shed admired his honesty thenresponsibility at its core.
Its easy to resolve someone elses drama from a distance, especially when you bear no responsibility. When youre in the thick of it, facing both wife and lover, courage and confidence evaporate in an instant.
She walked to their table in the café and took the empty seat. The lover lifted surprised eyes, Thomas froze, then slumped into his chair. The room fell silent. Annabelle found it amusing to watch them. The lover instantly recognised who she was, perhaps already knew.
Thomas tried to speak. She raised a hand and said, Thats not what I thought, is it? Nothing surprising here, reallythese things happen. But think about how to sort this outchildren, shared flat, elderly parents. Youre smart, youll manage.
She left slowly, her freshly pressed dress swaying. Shed been avoiding it for ages, but now she finally wore it.
In the end, Annabelle realised that truth, however painful, was the only path to peace. Accepting reality, however stark, gave her the strength to move forward with her children, her own dignity, and the quiet confidence that honesty, no matter how hard, always lights the way.
