Hold on, Emma! I havent cheated on you, I swear! Do you want me to swear on my health? Or on my mother? Tom shouted as he raced down the stairs after his wife, his voice echoing through the stairwell. He didnt mind that a few nosy neighbours peeked through their peepholes, their curious eyes tracking the domestic drama. He also didnt care that most of the buildings residents were straining to hear the shouting, listening through thin walls.
Emma burst out of the entrance, jumped into a black cab and sped away. Tom could only watch her disappear, his gaze lingering on the fleeing figure.
It all began three months earlier, when Toms life started sliding downhill. A colleague, with whom hed kept a strictly professional relationship for years, had suffered a personal tragedy a miscarriage and a swift divorce. After months of recovery, she returned to work a very different woman.
Listen, I cant take this any longer. Shes been stalking me for a month. Latenight calls, messages, even showing up at the house a few times, Tom vented, his frustration spilling over as he stormed into the directors office.
Mr. Harris, the managing director, only laughed. It happens. Shes smitten, what can you do? I dont see any crime here, he said.
But I did nothing! We only ever talked about work. Now my marriage is crumbling because of Claire, Tom shouted, his voice cracking.
The problem isnt my business, Harris shrugged. Claires fine with me, and what you do outside the office isnt my concern.
Tom teetered on the brink of despair. He had tried to ignore the situation, to pretend everything was normal, but the charade was breaking down. Arguments with Emma grew sharper, and Emma began to doubt her husbands fidelity. She couldnt believe a woman could engineer those unmistakable texts, hints, and photographs.
Emma, please, dont start. Ive never cheated on you. It never crossed my mind, Tom pleaded, his tone desperate.
You realise how your words sound like excuses when they sit next to those messages? Emma replied coolly. Or do you think Im as clueless as a seashell that cant add two plus two?
Its all deliberate. I block her number, she just uses another. Shes a pest, and I cant shake her, Tom confessed. What do I do? How can I prove Im clean?
I dont know, Tom. Honestly, Im exhausted. Its been almost three months and Im losing faith. There are too many coincidences, too many Claires in our lives, Emma said, her voice trembling.
Enough! Shes not mine. I dont need her! Tom snapped.
Honestly, I dont know what to think either, Emma whispered, tears glistening.
Why couldnt she trust him? She had once trusted him without question. But the calls, the messages, the uncanny timing it all felt too much like a setup. Maybe Im just being paranoid, Emma wondered, recalling the night she caught Tom deleting messages. She never saw what he erased, but she glimpsed him wiping away a few photographs.
Soon after, Tom began staying late at the office, his temper short, his mood withdrawn. Am I being a paranoid fool? Emma asked herself.
Claire, meanwhile, acted like a seasoned strategist. Once a quiet, shy woman, shed married, gone on maternity leave, then suffered a nervous breakdown after a medically forced miscarriage and a husband who walked out. When she returned, she first behaved as if nothing had changed, then started dropping little compliments toward Tom harmless, she thought. A chance hallway encounter, a friendly remark, and the flirtation barely hinted at anything more.
Then Claire descended on Tom and Emmas family like a storm, tearing up years of builtup trust. They started randomly bumping into her at the local supermarket, even though she lived in a different borough. She began attending the same gym as Tom, interrupting his phone calls with flirty lines: Youre as cute as a kitten, or Ive made you a coffee, why arent you coming over?
One evening Claire staged a chance call. Tom, could you help? My friend next door isnt answering, and my phones at two percent. Could you come down? Im stuck, she cooed from a new number.
Emma, though trusting Tom, glanced out the window and watched the scene unfold. When Claire saw Tom emerging from the stairwell, she threw herself around his neck and clung on. Emmas doubts solidified.
That night Toms phone buzzed. Emma, unable to sleep, read the message and felt a cold shiver run down her spine: Thanks for coming, Emmas probably watching you. Ill be a half hour late tomorrow, as we planned.
Tom you were supposed to meet a friend tomorrow, Emma whispered, stunned. For the first time she typed a reply: Well talk in the morning. Im sleeping now. Ill call you. The reply came instantly: Got it. Ill be waiting. You know Im always here.
Emma sat, stunned, and by dawn decided to stay with her sister for a while, to think things through away from Tom and Claire.
Tom awoke to the clink of keys on the nightstand. His phone lay near his pillow. Sensing something wrong, he leapt up, rushed to the front door, and, after a frantic attempt to stop Emma from leaving, slammed the door behind her. The situation had become absurd.
Emma ignored his calls. Her sister asked Tom not to disturb her.
Days stretched on, and Tom felt lost. He knew he had to act, to prove his innocence, to win back his wifes trust.
A week later he finally gathered courage. He called Emmas sister and asked for a meeting with Emma.
Emma, please give me one chance. I know you dont believe me, but I have something that could change everything. After this meeting, you can decide whether we stay together or part forever, Tom promised.
After lengthy persuasion, Emma agreed.
They drove in silence. Tom kept his eyes on the road, stealing glances at Emma. She tried to read something in the dimming landscape outside.
Emma, I need to ask you for something, Tom said after parking outside a typical terraced house. I want to blindfold you. Well walk a short distance. Trust me, please.
Emma looked at him distrustfully but complied. Tom guided her gently, his arm firm around her elbow. They entered a building, and the smell of fresh paint hit her nose.
Are we at a construction site? she asked, uneasy.
Not exactly, Tom replied, lowering the blindfold.
Soft light illuminated an old school gym the same one where their story began.
In the centre of the gym, on a bench, lay a bouquet of white lilies. Emma froze.
Emma, do you remember the moment I realised I was in love with you? Tom asked.
She stared at the high ceiling, silent.
It wasnt when we first started dating after the prom, he continued. It was back when I transferred to this school in Year Ten. Id missed a few days and ended up in PE class, not knowing anyone. In the far corner, I saw you, cheeks flushed from volleyball, a messy bun of damp curls, laughing contagiously. In that instant, I knew Id fallen for you forever.
Emma listened, tears threatening to spill. She hadnt recalled that day. She hadnt known that after all these years Tom still remembered every detail. Something in her chest softened.
Tom spoke of his fear to approach her, the months of gathering courage before finally asking her out, and how he thanked fate every day for leading him to that school, that gym.
I never betrayed you, Tom whispered, taking her hands. All this time Ive been yours alone.
A tear traced Emmas cheek. She looked into Toms eyes and saw the same sincerity that had first drawn her in.
Ill do anything quit my job, make Claire leave hers, move to another city, even another country just so you can believe I never betrayed you, Tom pleaded.
They stood in the old gym, where their love had first sparked, and realised that true love cannot be shattered by jealousy or meddling strangers.
The lesson they learned was simple: trust, once broken, is hard to mend, but honest communication and shared memories can rebuild the foundations of a relationship stronger than before. In the end, love survived not because they avoided temptation, but because they chose honesty and patience over suspicion.
