The clock hands crept towards half-past seven when Emily noticed her husband fumbling with his coat buttons.
«Where are you off to so late, James?» she asked, watching his hurried movements.
He barely glanced up, grabbing his jacket from the hook.
«Work emergency. The projects on fire,» he muttered over his shoulder. «Dont wait up.»
Lately, these urgent calls had grown frequent, gnawing at her with quiet suspicion.
«Again? Third time this week,» Emily said, fighting the accusation in her voice.
«Cant be helped,» James replied, his gaze distant. «Ill try not to be long.»
The door clicked shut. Emily stood frozen in the empty hallway before turning away.
«Mum, wheres Dad going?» Lily, their seven-year-old, padded in from her room, clutching a board game. «He promised to play with me.»
Emily crouched, smoothing her daughters shoulder. Lilys eyes shimmered with disappointment.
«Works keeping him busy, love. A big project,» Emily lied, the words hollow even to herself.
Lily sighed, trudging back to her room. Emily wandered to the kitchen, deciding to bake her daughters favourite oatmeal biscuitssomething sweet to soften the sting. Kneading dough, her thoughts spiralled.
The signs were glaring: late nights, hushed phone calls, the way hed flinch if she touched him. James hadnt kissed her goodbye in months. Their conversations were clippedschool runs, bills, chores.
At dinner, Lily brightened, munching warm biscuits and chattering about her day. Emily nodded along, half-listening, her mind elsewhere. Later, she tucked Lily in, read a chapter of *The BFG*, kissed her forehead.
Dishes clinked under running water as Emily scrubbed, the same question looping: *Should I confront him?* Her chest tightened. If he was cheatingwhat then? Lily adored him. But living with a liar? Unbearable.
Two weeks slipped by. James grew jumpier, hiding his phone screen when she entered.
Then, on a quiet Saturday, the call came. An unknown number flashed on her mobile.
«Hello?»
«Is this Emily?» A womans voice, crisp.
«Yes. Whos speaking?»
«Margaret Whitmore. We need to talk.»
Emily frowned. «About what?»
«You *are* Jamess wife, arent you?»
Her blood ran cold. James stiffened beside her.
«Yes,» Emily said slowly, switching to speakerphone.
«Good. Im the mother of Sophiethe girl your husbands been seeing for a year.» Margarets tone was breezy, as if discussing the weather. «Shes only twenty. Head over heels for him. Im asking you to step aside. Were all modern here, arent we?»
Emilys eyes locked onto James. His face drained of colour.
«Sophie cries herself to sleep,» Margaret continued. «Theyre in *love*. Be decent and bow out.»
Emily coughed, steadying her voice. «Thanks for the update, Margaret. Ill consider my options.»
She hung up. James sat rigid, knuckles white on the armrest.
«Well?»
«Lies!» he burst out. «I dont know any Sophie!»
Her phone buzzed. Photos flooded inJames kissing a blonde in a café, their fingers entwined.
«Margaret sent proof,» Emily said, tilting the screen toward him.
His face twisted. «Fine! Yes, its true! We met at a conferenceit just *happened*! What did you expect?»
Emily stood, eyebrows arched. «*I* pushed you into her arms?»
«You!» He jabbed a finger. «When did you last ask about my day? Cook my favourite meal? Smile at me? If youd *tried*, I wouldnt have looked elsewhere!»
She gaped. «And you? When did *you* last hug me? But I didnt run off with some bloke!»
«Thats different!» he roared. «*I* work! *I* provide! Keeping the romance alive is *your* job!»
Emily barked a laugh. «Says who? And *I* work full-time too! Then I come home to cook, clean, parentand now *fluff your ego*?»
James faltered. Silence hung thick.
Emily nodded, decided. «Ive suspected for months. Now Ill file for divorce. Enjoy your Sophie.»
«No!» He grabbed her wrists. «Its just a fling! A mistake!»
«A *mistake*?» She wrenched free. «Youre joking.»
«Emily, *please*,» he begged. «I cant leave. Where would I *live*?»
A cold clarity washed over her. «Ah. Not guiltyoure scared of losing the house.»
His silence was answer enough.
«Pack your things,» she said. «*Now*.»
She swept past him to Lilys room, where the girl stood wide-eyed. Emily hugged her tight.
«Come on, sweetheart. Lets finish your maths.»
For an hour, they worked sums, Emilys voice steady while muffled thumps echoedJames stuffing suitcases.
When she stepped out, he loitered in the hallway, bags at his feet, rumpled and defeated.
«Give me another chance,» he whispered.
Emily opened the door. «Go to Sophie. She can coddle you now.»
The lock clicked. She leaned against the wood, eyes shut. Hollow, yet lighter. No more lies. Never again.
