**Diary Entry 12th June**
Yesterday was a mess. Went to collect my things from James flat, only to find my own sister standing there in a dressing gown.
*»What do you even know about love?»* My voice shook, the phone nearly slipping from my sweaty grip. *»Three months of dinners, flowers, then you vanish like none of it mattered!»*
*»Look, I never promised forever,»* James replied, infuriatingly calm. *»We had fun. Thats all it was.»*
*»Fun?»* I swallowed hard, fighting the tremor in my throat. *»Brilliant. Just brilliant. Ill come by tomorrow to get my things. Then youll never see me again.»*
*»Not tomorrow. Ive got… plans.»*
*»Plans? Another girl to sweet-talk?»*
*»Emma, dont start. Im busy till evening. Come after eight.»*
*»No. Ill be there at noon. Dont care about your plans. Ten minutes, and you can go back to your perfect life.»*
I hung up before he could reply, hurling my phone onto the sofa. The tears Id held back all week finally spilled over. Why did I always pick men who treated me like a passing distraction?
A soft knock. *»Emma, love, you alright?»* Mum stood in the doorway with a steaming mug.
*»Fine,»* I wiped my cheeks hastily. *»Just tired.»*
She sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. *»I heard. James again?»*
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
*»Sweetheart, how long will you let this man break your heart? Four months of pining over someone who doesnt value you.»*
*»Im not pining,»* I muttered. *»Just want my things back so I can move on.»*
*»Whats left there? A jumper? A book?»*
*»My favourite perfume, two blouses, and Grans photo album. I cant just leave them.»*
Mum sighed, stroking my hair. *»Let me fetch them. Or Charlotte?»*
At my older sisters name, I scowled. *»Dont drag Charlotte into this! Were not speaking.»*
*»Lord, what now?»*
*»Nothing. She just *always* knows best. Said James was all charm, no substancebet shes thrilled she was right.»*
*»She means well,»* Mum said gently.
I shook my head. Charlotte had always been the golden childtop grades, flawless career, picture-perfect marriage. Easy for her to judge from her pedestal. Me? Thirty-two, a rented flat, and a job I loathed.
*»Ill get them myself,»* I said firmly. *»Then close this chapter for good.»*
—
The next morning, I woke with a pounding headache. Barely slept, rehearsing the confrontation in my head. I needed to look impeccablelet him regret losing me. Did my makeup carefully, slipped into a new dress and heels.
The taxi ride to his neighbourhood was a blur. Coldly polite, no tearsthat was the plan. Grab my things, walk out head high.
His building was silent. The lift creaked up to the seventh floor. My pulse hammered so loud I feared the neighbours would hear. Deep breath. I rang the bell.
No answer. Maybe hed actually left? I pressed again, longer. Footsteps. I straightened
The door swung open.
Charlotte.
My *sister*. In a dressing gown, damp-haired, gaping at me.
*»Emma? Whatwhy are you?»*
*»Why am *I* here?»* My voice cracked. *»What are *you* doing in my exs flat? In *that*?»*
She rubbed her face as if clearing fog. *»Its not what you»*
*»Whos there, Charlie?»* James appeared behind her, buttoning his shirt. He froze mid-motion. *»Oh. You came early.»*
The room tilted. *»You… and *Charlotte*?»*
*»Emma, please,»* Charlotte reached for me. *»Not here. Let»*
*»Talk? About how youve been laughing behind my back?»* Nausea rose. *»How long? While we were still together?»*
James exhaled. *»Nothing happened then. We met *after*»*
*»Met?»* A bitter laugh escaped me. *»Funny way of putting it.»*
*»Stop,»* Charlotte cut in. *»Youve got it all wrong.»*
*»Enlighten me, then! How *should* I take my sister in a dressing gown in *his* flat?»*
I bolted for the lift, jamming the button. Charlotte chased me, robe flapping. *»Wait! Let me explain!»*
*»Dont touch me!»* I recoiled. *»I saw *enough*.»*
The doors shut on her stricken face, James hand on her shoulder.
—
Outside, sunlight mocked my shattered composure. Stumbled into a café, ordered coffee I wouldnt drink. My hands shook so violently I clamped them between my knees.
Mum rang. *»Emma? Charlotte called in tearsshe said you misunderstood»*
*»Misunderstood?»* I nearly screamed. *»I saw her *in his flat*!»*
A pause. *»…She claims she was helping you.»*
*»Helping? By *sleeping* with him?»*
*»Just *listen*,»* Mum pleaded.
I hung up, switched off my phone.
Spent the night at my mate Sophiesthe one whod warned me about James from the start. She listened, wide-eyed, as I sobbed out the story.
*»Doesnt sound like Charlotte,»* she mused. *»Hear her out?»*
*»I *saw* it, Soph!»*
Yet doubt crept in. Charlotte *never* lied to me.
—
That evening, Charlotte appeared at Sophies door, red-eyed. *»Please. Let me explain.»*
Reluctantly, I let her in.
*»I wasnt with James,»* she said, clutching a bag. *»I went to get your things. So you wouldnt have to see him.»*
*»In his robe?»*
*»*Your* robe. The blue silk one. You left it there.»*
I blinked. It *was* mine.
*»He spilled coffee on me,»* she continued. *»Offered his shower while my clothes dried. You walked in right after.»*
James, half-dressed? *»Hed just woken up,»* she added. *»Said hed slept badly.»*
It sounded absurd… yet *so* Charlotte. Meticulous, meddlingbut never malicious.
*»Why didnt you *tell* me?»*
*»Youd have refused. Youre so… proud.»* Her voice broke. *»I just wanted to spare you more pain.»*
The bag held my perfume, blouses, album. And the robeproof.
Guilt flooded me. Id assumed the worst of my sister.
We talked for hours. She confessed her own marital struggles last year (*»We barely spoke. I felt so alone»*), shattering the perfect image Id resented.
By dawn, the anger had melted into something softer.
—
**Lesson learned:** Lifes cruelest twists sometimes gift us clarity. I went to reclaim fragments of a dead romanceand rediscovered the sister Id pushed away. Perhaps thats the point of pain: to remind us what truly matters.
