Ill call her back, Andrew muttered, slipping out the back door.
It was your lover on the line. She sends her regards, shouted Irene, never taking her eyes off the stove where something familiar sizzled in a pan, as comforting as the life theyd built together.
Andrew froze in the kitchen doorway. Twentyplus years an entire life flashed before him in an instant. The keys slipped from his palm, clattered onto the floor with a harsh metallic clang that seemed to pierce the silence.
What are you talking about? A lover? his voice trembled, laying bare the fear that had haunted him for months. He felt the ground give way beneath his feet.
Alice, Irene finally said, crossing her arms over her chest. Your assistant, isnt she? Youngtwentyfive. She says shes been seeing you for four months. Congratulations, dear.
The pain in her eyes was so raw that Andrew wanted either to sink into the earth or snap awake, as if it were all a nightmare.
Ill explain, he began, but the words caught in his throat.
Explain what? she laughed hoarsely. What exactly are you going to explain, Andrew? That you were having fun with your secretary while I was at doctors appointments? Or that you lied, saying you were working late?
The pan hissed, and the smell of burnt meat filled the kitchen. Irene flicked the gas off, as if that could halt the ache, the bitterness, the betrayal.
You know whats the worst part? she whispered. I guessed it all along. All those meetings, latenight calls, business trips I believed you like a fool.
Darling, listen Andrew took a step toward his wife, but she raised a hand as if building an invisible wall.
Dont come any closer! tears flashed. Lord, this is disgusting twenty years wasted!
Stop, he tried to steady himself, his voice shaking. Lets just talk calmly. Its complicated.
Complicated? Irene laughed again, but the laughter was edged with sobbing. Whats so complicated? You took a young lover. Shes here. And me, her voice broke, Im just an old woman who cant have children, is that it?
Dont say that! he stepped forward, reaching to embrace her.
She twisted away, as if burned, and a sharp slap cracked the kitchens quiet.
Get out, she whispered, her voice trembling. Go back to her. If she can give you what I could not.
Emily
Leave! she shouted, grabbing a salt shaker from the table and flinging it at him.
Andrew stumbled back, the salt scattering across the floor, white crystals catching the lamps light. Bad omen, he thought.
Ill call her, he muttered, heading for the door.
Irene turned to the window, shoulders shaking as if from cold, though the street outside was warm.
In the hallway, hastily pulling on his coat, he heard faint sobs. His hand froze on the door knob. What could he possibly say to justify the betrayal?
The front door slammed shut. The empty flat fell into a deafening hush, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock a wedding gift from his parents. It had ticked for twenty years, counting the seconds of their shared life.
Irene sank into a kitchen chair, eyes falling on the spilled salt. They say salt brings bad luck, she mused, then burst into hysterical laughter. It was as if the scattered crystals mirrored the shards of her world.
His phone, tucked in his coat pocket, buzzed. A text from an unknown number appeared:
Sorry. I never wanted it to end like this. Alice
Wretch, Irene hissed, clutching the phone as if it were a hot coal.
Rain began to patter against the window, the first drops striking the sill like a mournful xylophone.
She rose, grabbed a broom and dustpan, and while sweeping the salt she thought, I never even asked if she was expecting a boy or a girl
She paused, the dustpan clenched in her hand. The rain, the ticking clock, the salt all merged into a single, relentless stream, as if her life now existed only in these tiny details.
Andrew sat in his car, staring at the phone. Fifteen missed calls from his mother Irene, of course, was calling his motherinlaw, always doting on the daughterinlaw.
What now? he asked his reflection in the rearview mirror. The man in his fifties stared back, judgmental.
The phone vibrated again. Alice lit up the screen.
Yes, love
Where are you? her voice trembled, on the brink of tears. I was so scared she was terrifying!
Who? Andrew asked, bewildered.
Your wife! She came to my office, made a scene
What? When?
An hour ago, Alice sobbed. She screamed that Id ruined your family, threw papers at me they were her test results.
He lowered his head onto the steering wheel, a groan escaping him.
I didnt know Alice continued. I truly didnt know you couldnt have children. I thought you just didnt want them
Alice, I knew I still did he thought, the memory flashing.
Come over, she pleaded. Im scared alone.
Im on my way, he replied shortly.
He turned the key, but the engine stalled. The phone rang again his mother.
Yes, Mum.
Ah, you wretched dog! she roared. What have you done? Lost your conscience?
Mum
Silence! Irenes crying, barely holding herself together after all these years. Youve thrown it all away for a fling!
She hung up. The cars engine hummed softly. He glanced at Irenes house; warm light spilled from the windows, but he couldnt go there. He couldnt go anywhere.
He turned the ignition off. The car sighed, then fell silent. The stillness grew deafening.
A short beep sounded from the handset.
Dammit, Andrew muttered, slamming the steering wheel until his fingers ached.
Another buzz a message from Irene:
The divorce papers will be ready in a week. Collect your things this weekend. Im leaving.
He read it over and over. Divorce. Twenty years. All shattered.
A new call came Alice.
Are you coming? My stomach hurts
Im on my way! he shouted, jerking the wheel as if it could tear him out of the nightmare.
Rain hammered harder, wipers fighting a losing battle, the city blurring into grey smears.
His phone buzzed again, probably his mother again. He didnt even look. It didnt matter; everything was already falling apart.
A year earlier, Alice had started as an intern at his firm bright, hopeful, eyes full of dreams. Shed looked at him with the same admiration Irene had once shown during their university days. Then came the office party, a careless touch, and the affair began. He remembered telling his wife he was busy at work while secretly whisking Alice away to restaurants, buying flowers, feeling young again. He even rented a flat for their secret meetings, watching her glow with hope for a future.
Fool, he thought, staring at the rainslick road. Old fool.
The phone rang again.
Its not Alice, said Irenes voice, oddly calm. Ive done a test. Guess what? Im waiting for a baby too.
Everything seemed to freeze. A sudden screech of brakes, a crash, darkness.
Heart attack, the doctor said flatly. Plus traumatic brain injury. Condition critical.
Irene stood by the ICU window, looking at a man tangled in tubes and wires. Beside her sat Alice, her plump face buried in her hands, muffled sobs escaping.
Stop whining, Irene snapped, not looking at the patient. This isnt a drama.
Sorry Alice whispered, wiping tears. Just were a baby
Right, a baby without a dad, Irene sneered. How clever. And Im without a husband. Lovely, isnt it?
Are you also? Alice asked, eyes fixed on Irenes barely visible belly.
Did you get pregnant too? Irene chuckled. Twenty years of nothing, and now boom! Must be stress.
The monitor beeped quietly, rain tapping the hospital panes, refusing to let anyone forget that life continued outside.
I loved him from day one, Irene said, not turning from the motionless body. He was skinny, glasses, the sort of boy everyone teased. Girls would ask, What do you see in him? but I saw the real him.
Alice stayed silent, tugging at the curtain as if it held some salvation.
Then came the wedding, the rings, the veil, everything perfect. My mother even said, Shell be a good daughterinlaw. And I turned out defective.
Dont say that, Alice whispered, voice as soft as fallen leaves.
How should I say it? Irene snapped, eyes sharp. Do you know how many doctors Ive seen? How many procedures? He kept telling me, Dont worry, dear, well manage without children. He was lying. Straight up lying.
He loves you, Alice said, but even her words felt hollow.
Even when he used you? Irene laughed cruelly. He was a bastard.
Alice shivered, instinctively covering her belly, trying to hide the pain.
I thought we were in love, she whispered, staring at the floor. He seemed so caring, so gentle
So Im what? Irene snapped, smiling bitterly. A careerdriven wife? Childless?
No! I, Alice stopped, not knowing what to say.
You know whats funny? Irene interrupted. I almost get you. Young, in love, lost your head for a successful man. I was the same. Only my mistake is that the man is my husband.
In the ward, Andrew shifted slightly. Both women leaned forward, then fell silent.
What now? Alice asked, the quiet hanging heavy.
What will you do? Irene asked, weary. Andrew will have two heirs or heirs. Does it matter?
What about him? Alice pressed.
What will he choose? Irene replied, bitterness softening into something like pity. Old wife with baggage or young lover with a baby.
Im not claiming anything, Alice started, trying to break free from the labels.
Youre all claiming, Irene cut in. Listen, girl twenty years is mine. You jumped onto a train that isnt yours. This isnt your route, not your station.
A nurse cleared her throat softly.
Visiting hours are over.
Of course, Irene said, standing. Lets go, dear. Ill show you where the tea machine is. Weve got a long day ahead.
A week later Andrew awoke in a hospital bed to find Irene sitting beside him, a hand rested gently on his stomach. A thought flickered: How could I have missed this?
Emily his voice rasped, foreign to his own ears.
She startled, eyes widening.
Made it, love? she teased, a faint smile playing on her lips. I thought you were up there, flirting with angels.
Sorry
Dont start, Irene snapped. Your solicitor is here. I wont split the flat you can keep the car if you like. Ive quit my job.
What? Andrew tried to rise, panic flooding his voice. Why?
Im moving back to Larkfield, to my parents place, she said calmly, as if describing a mundane chore. The air is cleaner. Better for the child.
Emily, no
Its necessary, Andrew. Its necessary, she replied, finally smiling, not joyfully but with relief. Ive had a lot of time to think while you lay here. Im a fool for believing you. Not because I trusted you, but because I was terrified of living without you.
I love you, he whispered, hoping the words might change anything.
You love? she shrugged, not meeting his gaze. Probably, like a habit, like part of life. But I dont want to be a habit.
She rose, shaking off her dress as if shedding a weight that wasnt hers.
Alice visits daily. She cries, says shes giving up all claims. Silly thing I gave her a good gynaecologists number and a realtor to find a bigger flat a onebedroom wont do with a baby.
You what? Andrew could not believe his ears.
Whats so strange? she said, as if stating a fact. Were now in the same boat. In the same position funny, isnt it? Years of emptiness and now suddenly two lives. They say misfortune never comes alone. Happiness doesnt either.
Outside, a spring thunderstorm rolled, cracking the day into pieces.
Dont stay, Irene leaned in, kissed his forehead softly, as if it were a simple farewell. Ive called a taxi. Sent my things off. Sign the divorce papers when youre better. Where else to rush?
Emily
You know, she paused at the door, turning back, I really did love you. To the point of madness, of trembling and now it feels like Ive let go, like Ive breathed in fresh air. Thank you for that.
She closed the door gently. A faint perfume lingered, the same scent he gave her each wedding anniversary.
Andrew stared out at the window where the spring storm mixed rain with sleet over the Marchgray city. Two women now carried his children in their hearts, two different yet oddly similar worlds. Two divergent paths, one tangled story.
He thought, Will the children ever be friends? Will they share a life, or will they forever be divided?
In that quiet after the storm, he finally understood: love, when built on lies, collapses, but truth, however painful, can set you free. The real lesson lay not in who was right or wrong, but in the courage to face the consequences of ones choices and to rebuild anew, wiser than before.
