«Let him go, please,» said the unfamiliar voice on the telephone.
«Where are you off to so late, Oliver?» asked Sophie, watching her husband hurriedly button his shirt. The clock on the mantelpiece showed half past seven in the evening. He didnt even glance at her as he gathered his things.
«Works in chaos. Theyve called me in urgently,» he muttered over his shoulder, snatching his coat from the rack. «Dont wait up.»
Lately, these sudden summons had become more frequent. A quiet unease had settled in Sophies chest, though she did her best to ignore it.
«Again? Thats the third time this week,» she said, trying to keep the accusation from her voice.
«What can I do? Its the job,» Oliver finally looked at her, but his eyes were distant, hollow. «Ill try not to be too late.»
The front door clicked shut. Sophie stood for a moment, staring at the empty hallway, then turned away slowly.
«Mum, wheres Dad gone?» came a small voice from the nursery. Emily, their seven-year-old daughter, stood clutching a board game. «He promised to play with me tonight.»
Sophie knelt before her, smoothing a hand over her shoulder. Emilys eyes were bright with disappointment.
«Your fathers very busy at work, love. Hes got an important project to finish,» Sophie said, though the words already felt hollow to her own ears.
Emily sighed, her shoulders slumping as she trudged back to her room. Sophie watched her go, then walked to the kitchen. To lift her daughters spirits, she decided to bake Emilys favourite raisin biscuits. As she kneaded the dough, her hands moved by habit, but her thoughts wandered far away.
The signs had been therethe late nights, the secrecy, the growing distance between them. Oliver no longer kissed her goodbye in the mornings or held her close. Their conversations had dwindled to household matters and Emilys schoolwork.
At supper, Emily brightened a little, nibbling warm biscuits and chattering about her day. Sophie listened, nodding, asking questionsbut her mind was elsewhere. After tucking Emily into bed and reading her a story, she returned to the kitchen and began washing the dishes. The warm water ran over her hands as one question circled relentlessly in her mindshould she confront him? Demand the truth?
Her stomach twisted at the thoughtOliver was almost certainly seeing someone else. But what would happen to Emily if they divorced? The girl adored her father, always waiting for his attention. On the other hand, living with a man who betrayed her was becoming unbearable.
Two more weeks passed. Oliver grew jumpier, flinching at phone calls, hiding his screen when Sophie entered the room.
Then, one Saturday, he stayed home. They sat together on the sofa, the telly murmuring in the background. Emily was in her room doing homework when Sophies phone rangan unknown number.
«Hello?»
«Sophie?» asked a womans voice.
«Yes. Who is this?» Sophie frowned.
«My name is Margaret Whitmore. I need to speak with you about something very important.»
«Im sorry, I dont think weve met»
The woman cut her off sharply.
«I havent made a mistake. Im speaking to Olivers wife, am I not?»
Sophie froze. From the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver tense.
«Yes,» she said slowly.
She pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the coffee table.
«Good. Im the mother of Jessica, the girl your husband has been seeing for the past year,» Margaret said, as casually as if discussing the weather. «My Jessica is only twenty, and Oliver is her first love. Shes utterly devoted to him. Im asking you to let him gostop making her life miserable! Were civilised people, after all.»
Sophie lifted her gaze to Oliver. His face had gone pale.
«Jessica cries herself to sleep every night,» Margaret continued. «She cant even see the man she loves openly. What they have is pure, real love! You must step aside. Surely you understandyou cant force affection.»
Sophie cleared her throat, forcing her voice steady despite the storm rising inside her.
«Thank you for telling me, Margaret. Ill consider what to do.»
She ended the call and turned to Oliver. He sat gripping the armrest.
«Well, Oliver? What have you got to say?» she asked, surprised by how cold her own voice sounded.
«Sophie, itsits all lies!» Oliver sprang up, waving his hands. «That womans lying! I dont know any Jessica!»
Her phone buzzeda message. She opened it to find photographs: Oliver embracing a young blonde, kissing her in a café, holding her hand.
«Margarets sent proof of your love. Have a look,» Sophie said, turning the screen toward him.
His face twisted with fury.
«Fine! Yes, its true!» he shouted. «Ive been seeing Jessica! We met at a conferenceit just happened! What did you expect?»
Sophie rose slowly, eyebrows lifting.
«And how is this my fault? Did I push you into her arms?»
«You! Youre the reason!» Oliver raged, his face scarlet. «When was the last time you paid me any attention? When did you last ask about my day? Cook my favourite meal? Smile at me?»
Sophie could scarcely believe her ears. Oliver barrelled on, wild with indignation.
«If youd shown me any affection, if youd talked to me more, if youd cared for me, Id never have looked at another woman! But youre buried in work, in choresthe house matters more than I do! Weve grown apart!»
«Wait a minute,» Sophie held up a hand. «Does that not go both ways? Youve been distant for years, but I didnt run off with another man!»
«Thats different!» Oliver exploded. «I work hard for this family! I earn the money! Youre supposed to keep the romance alivethats your job!»
Sophie took a step back, stunned.
«Where is that written? Show me the law that says so! Or did you just invent it?» She shook her head. «I work full-time toothen come home to look after Emily, clean, cook! And now Im meant to coddle you like a child?»
Oliver opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no answer. Silence hung thick between them.
Sophie nodded slowly, her decision made.
«You know what? Ive suspected this for months. The signs were all there. Now that the truths out, Ill file for divorce with a clear conscience. Be happy with your Jessica. I wont stand in your way.»
«No!» Oliver lunged for her, but she stepped back. «No divorce! Im sorryits nothing serious with Jessica, just a fling! A mistake!»
«A mistake?» Sophie laughed bitterly. «Are you joking?»
«Sophie, pleaselets talk this through,» Oliver begged, his tone shifting to desperate. «I cant leave this family. Its impossible.»
«Cant? Why not?» Sophie narrowed her eyes.
«Where would I live? On the streets?» he blurtedthen froze, realising what hed said.
Sophie laughed hoarsely as everything clicked into place.
«So thats it. You werent staying out of guiltyou were scared of being homeless.»
Oliver looked at the floor. His silence said everything.
«Pack your things,» Sophie said flatly. «Now.»
She turned to Emily, who had emerged from her room at the shouting. Sophie pulled her close, guiding her back to the nursery.
«Come on, sweetheart. Lets finish your homework,» she said gently.
For the next hour, she helped Emily with her sums and spelling, smiling reassuringly whenever the girl glanced up in confusion. Outside the door, muffled thuds signaled Oliver packing.
When Sophie finally stepped out, Oliver stood in the hallway with two bulging suitcases. He looked wretchedhis shirt wrinkled, hair dishevelled, eyes dull.
«Sophie, give me another chance,» he pleaded as she reached for the door. «Ill fix everything, I swear! Ill end it with Jessicawell start fresh!»
Sophie opened the door and gestured for him to leave.
«Go to Jessica. Let her comfort you, Oliver. You chose her over your wife and daughter.»
He stepped out. Sophie shut the door firmly and turned the lock. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. There was an emptiness insidebut beneath it, a quiet relief. She would not live another day under the same roof as a liar. Not for anything in the world.
