Emily Turner is dusting the study when her cloth brushes a stack of papers on the edge of the desk. The pages scatter across the floor, and she curses under her breath as she starts to gather them. Something glints beneath the chair a small black object. She reaches in and pulls out a smartphone in a worn case.
Odd, she mutters, turning the phone over in her hands.
James Clarkes brandnew iPhone is always either in the pocket of his jacket or on the nightstand. This one looks cheaper, simpler, and completely unfamiliar. She presses the power button the screen lights up, showing the time and date, without a password. Emilys heart tightens and a lump rides down her throat.
She sinks slowly into the chair, eyes glued to the device. In their twentythree years of marriage theyve weathered arguments, hurts, and mistrust. But a second phone? Emily has never considered herself a jealous wife. She trusts James, is proud of their marriage, and now the black box feels like a ticking bomb of secrets.
Twentythree years together, two daughters could it all have been a lie? she thinks, her fingers scrolling through the menu. No photos, just a few contacts numbers listed only by digits and initials. Then a conversation with A.S. catches her eye.
Tonight at 7pm, as usual? James wrote three days ago.
Yes, Ill be waiting, she replied.
Two days later:
Thanks for yesterday. As always, you were brilliant. a message from James.
Glad you liked it. Can you make it tomorrow? Emily answered.
Ill try, but I cant promise, James typed. Emily, Im suspicious.
Emilys eyes go dark. She, suspicious? She has never even allowed such a thought before! A burning mix of hurt, anger, and disappointment floods her chest. Twentythree years of trust, and it could unravel so easily?
The front door bangs shut. James returns from work earlier than usual. In panic Emily slips the phone into the pocket of her housecoat and, clutching the cloth, pretends to continue cleaning.
Emily, where are you? Jamess voice echoes from the hallway.
In the study, tidying up, she replies, trying to sound normal.
James steps in tall, fit, in a sharp suit. At fifty he looks younger than his peers and still catches the eyes of other women. Emily once took pride in that, but now a chill of fear runs through her.
How was your day? she asks, polishing a bookshelf.
Fine, he loosens his tie and stretches. Just a bit tired. Had a demanding client, spent three hours on him.
What client? A.S.? Emily wants to ask, but holds back.
Why are you up early? she turns to him, trying to read any sign of deceit.
Missing you, he says, slipping his arms around her from behind, his nose pressed against her neck. The familiar scent of his aftershave mixes with a faint whiff of cigarettes, even though he quit five years ago. The smell pricks her nostrils.
Im heading to the shower, James kisses her cheek and leaves.
Alone, Emily drops onto the sofa. What now? Throw a fit? Follow him? Or just ask straight out? The foreign phone presses hard in her coat pocket. She pulls it out and reopens the messages. Nothing explicit no love confessions or intimate photos. Yet the mere existence of a second phone says a lot.
Evening passes in a taut tension. They dine together, watch a series, talk about the girls. Their eldest, Sophie, lives in Manchester with her husband and a twoyearold son. Their younger, Olivia, is finishing university. James behaves as usual chatting about work, joking, asking about her day. Nothing suspicious, if you dont know about the secret phone.
At ten oclock he heads for a shower, and Emily decides to act. She grabs his formal jacket from the wardrobe and empties the pockets nothing. She checks his briefcase also empty. Shes about to give up when she spots a tiny card in the jackets side pocket. A business card reads Anna Simmons with a phone number. A.S. from the messages?
The water stops running. Emily hurriedly returns everything to its place and slips into bed, pretending to sleep. Her heart pounds so loudly she thinks James might hear it.
In the morning she wakes before him and watches his sleeping face familiar, beloved, now suddenly foreign. How could he do this? What had he been missing all these years?
During breakfast she cant hold back:
James, are you happy with me? she asks, stirring sugar into her tea.
He raises an eyebrow in surprise.
Why such a question first thing? he asks.
Just answer, she insists.
Of course Im happy, he says, covering her hand with his. Twentythree years together, after all.
His touch, once warm, now feels like a burn.
And you dont want something else? Someone else?
James frowns.
Emily, whats going on? Youve been odd since last night.
Just answer.
I dont need anyone else, he says firmly. Youre my wife, the mother of my children, my rock. What nonsense is this?
His words sound sincere, but Emily no longer knows what to trust. The second phone still burns against her coat pocket. Anna Simmonss card sits in her mind.
Dont be late, she says, forcing a smile that falls flat.
When James leaves, Emily pulls the foreign phone again and opens the messages. She sits at the computer and types the name from the card. Anna Simmons turns out to be a private guitar teacher. Her socialmedia page shows a friendly woman in her forties with bright auburn hair and a fit figure.
So thats who A.S. is, Emily mutters, bitterness rising.
At lunch Emily calls her longtime friend Nina.
Can you believe it? I found Jamess second phone, she says, voice trembling as soon as Nina picks up.
What? Seriously? Whats on it?
Emily recounts the messages, the card, the auburnhaired teacher.
Oh, Em Im sorry. What are you going to do?
I dont know. Twentythree years I thought we were fine.
Maybe its not that simple, Nina suggests cautiously. Talk to him.
And say what? Ive been spying on you and found a secret phone?
Better than stewing in doubt.
After the call Emily feels even more tangled. Part of her wants a scene, to unleash all the pain. Part of her fears destroying the life they built. Could there be an explanation? What could justify a hidden phone?
Later that evening James returns with a bouquet of her favourite lilies.
Whats this for? Emily asks, feeling a tight knot in her chest are the flowers a token of guilt?
Just wanted to make you smile, he grins, kissing her cheek. Youve seemed down lately.
Really? she forces a smile that doesnt convince either of them.
During dinner the hidden phone in her coat pocket seems to pulse, a silent reminder. Finally Emily cant hold back.
James, what would you say if I got a second phone and hid it from you?
James chokes on his wine.
In what sense?
Literally. A secret phone for secret talks and messages.
He frowns.
Id ask why you need it and who youre talking to.
Emily swallows.
And if I said it wasnt your business?
Id suspect somethings wrong, he says, setting down his fork. Why the questions, Emily?
She stands, goes to the bedroom, returns with the black phone.
I found this in your study, under the chair, she says, placing it on the table. I read messages from someone called A.S. and found Anna Simmonss card in your jacket.
Jamess face stretches. He looks at the phone, then at her, surprise dawning.
So thats where it is! he exclaims, slapping his forehead. I searched everywhere!
Thats all you have to say? Emilys voice trembles. Twentythree years, James! How could you?
What? he looks bewildered. Wait, do you think
I dont think, I know! she shouts, hurling the card at him. Evening meetings, secret texts, Emily, Im suspicious! That auburn teacher how long has this been going on?
James bursts into laughter loud, genuine, tears spilling. Emily freezes, stunned not the reaction she expected.
Im sorry, he wipes his eyes. Emily, love, its not what you think.
What then? she asks, arms crossed.
Sit, Ill explain, he pulls a chair close. Just promise not to interrupt.
Reluctantly she sits.
Remember last year when I turned fifty? James begins. You kept asking what I wanted as a gift, and I kept saying no
She nods.
Ive had a childish dream for ages. Ive always wanted to learn the guitar.
The guitar? Emily asks, skeptical.
Yes. Since I was a kid, but never found the time. This year I finally signed up for lessons with a private tutor. Thats Anna Simmons. Shes a guitar teacher; massage is just her hobby.
But why the secret phone? Emily still cant believe it.
Because I wanted to surprise you for our upcoming anniversary, he says, sheepish. I took lessons twice a week and bought a cheap phone so you wouldnt see the messages or the lesson schedule. I wanted to learn your favourite song and play it on the day.
And you wrote Emily, Im suspicious?
Because you started asking why I was staying out late. I was worried youd uncover the surprise early. And as always, its on point was about the lessons. Anna said Im doing well for a beginner.
Emily looks at James, unsure whether to believe him. The story sounds absurd, yet the guitar sits on the floor.
Prove it, she demands.
James sighs, walks to the study, and returns with a guitar case.
I kept it in the closet behind the winter coats, he explains, pulling out an acoustic guitar. He sits, strums a few shaky chords, then sings her favourite song, Everything Thats About You. His voice is rough, the chords wobbly, but its clear hes been practicing.
Emily covers her face with her hands, tears streaming down now from embarrassment and relief.
Im sorry, she whispers as he finishes. I jumped to conclusions.
James puts the guitar down and kneels before her.
Its you who should apologise. I didnt mean to hurt you. I thought it would be a fun surprise, a bit of romance it turned out a mess.
Why didnt you tell me you wanted to learn the guitar? she asks.
It was embarrassing, he shrugs. At my age, chasing such a hobby feels foolish. I thought youd laugh.
You fool, she rubs his cheek. I would never
Now I know, he kisses her hand. Should I keep the lessons, or is my greying head too ashamed?
Keep going, she says, smiling through tears. Just no more secret phones.
They stay at the kitchen table late into the night. James shows his modest progress, talks about the lessons, how nervous he was about you finding out too soon. Emily laughs and cries, repeatedly apologising for her suspicion.
You know, she says as they finally lie in bed, its amazing you can still surprise me after all these years.
I hope I can keep doing that, he pulls her close.
The next morning Emily calls Nina again.
You wont believe it, everything turned out far from what I imagined, she says, relief in her voice.
No way! Theres a normal explanation?
Youll love this hes learning guitar! At his age? Its adorable! Emily laughs.
Exactly! Nina replies. Seems you both need to share more of your dreams. Everyday life, work, kids youve been missing that.
Looks like we should start planning more surprises for each other, Emily agrees.
That evening James returns to find a candlelit dinner set on the table and a small box next to his plate.
Whats this? he asks, surprised.
Open it, Emily says, smiling mysteriously.
Inside lies a guitar pick engraved with For my personal musician and two notes. One is a voucher for piano lessons for her, the other a reservation for a weekend getaway at a country inn.
Lets dream together, she says simply.
James wraps his arms around her, and they stand like strangers reacquainted, feeling the promise of many more years filled with new discoveries and surprises.
