**Diary Entry 25th October**
I picked up my husbands phone to check the time while he sleptjust a quick glancebut the notification that flashed on the screen shattered everything.
*»No, Mrs. Whitmore, it’s impossible! I can’t take leave nowquarterly reports are due, and the tax audit is looming!»* Emma shifted papers nervously across her desk, avoiding her managers stern gaze. *»Please, someone else must handle this.»*
*»Who exactly?»* Mrs. Whitmore, a formidable woman in a sharp suit, leaned over the desk. *»Marys on maternity leave, Sarahs off with a sick child, and Olivia would muddle the paperwork! Youre the only one who can manage the branch inspections!»*
*»But my sons ill, my mother cant come to help, and my husbands always away,»* Emmas throat tightened. *»I cant just vanish to Manchester for a week!»*
*»Your personal issues arent my concern,»* Mrs. Whitmore snapped. *»Either go on this business trip or hand in your resignation. Your choice.»*
Emma left the office feeling hollow. In the corridor, her colleague, Rebecca, caught up with her.
*»Rough meeting?»* she asked sympathetically.
*»Thats putting it mildly,»* Emma sighed. *»I dont know what to do. Thomas is just recovering from pneumonia, and James is stuck on that Birmingham project. How am I supposed to manage it all?»*
*»What about your mother-in-law? Could she watch Thomas?»*
Emma scoffed. *»Margaret? She thinks grandchildren are solely my responsibility. Her only contribution is criticising my parenting. No, thank you.»*
Back at her desk, Emma mechanically sorted files, her mind elsewhere. Thirty-eight years old, and still torn between work, motherhood, and a household that never paused. And Jamesalways absent when she needed him most.
That evening, after tucking Thomas in, Emma collapsed onto the sofa, her head pounding. She dialled Jamess number. No answeranother late meeting, no doubt. Fifteen years of marriage, and shed grown used to his constant trips and overtime. But tonight, the loneliness was suffocating.
When he finally called back, his voice was weary. *»Sorry, love. Chaotic day.»*
*»James, Ive been assigned a week in Manchester,»* she said bluntly. *»Thomas isnt well enough for nursery. Can you come home?»*
A pause. *»Emma, you know I cant. The projects due in two weeks. Id be sacked if I left now.»*
*»But youre never here when it matters,»* she whispered.
*»Dont start,»* he snapped. *»Im not off gallivantingIm working to keep this family afloat!»*
*»So am I!»* she shot back. *»Except I also raise our son, manage the house, and somehow remember your dry cleaning!»*
*»Not now,»* he cut in. *»Im exhausted. Ask your mum or the neighbour, Helen. Shes always offering to help.»*
*»Easy for you to say,»* Emma hissed, tears burning. *»Fine. Ill figure it out. Like always.»*
Three foggy days later, shed postponed the trip, begged her mother to come from Kent, and steeled herself for Manchester. James promised hed return by Saturday.
Then, at midnight on Friday, another call. *»Emma… Im delayed. Two more days. Unforeseen issues.»*
Her stomach dropped. *»You swore youd be back! I leave Sunday!»*
*»I know! But if I dont stay, the whole team loses bonuses. Its thousands, Em!»*
*»And what about Thomas? Or my 72-year-old mother with arthritis? Shes had a hospital appointment booked for months!»*
*»Then hire a sitter or ask Helen!»* Jamess patience frayed. *»I cant be in two places at once!»*
*»But I can?»* Her voice cracked. *»When was the last time you took care of him? Or me?»*
*»Im killing myself to give you both a good life!»* he exploded. *»What more do you want?»*
*»For you to be here,»* she said softly. *»But apparently, thats too much to ask.»*
She hung up, pressing her palms to her eyes. The weight of it allwork, Thomas, her mothers failing healthcrushed her. She fell asleep at the table, waking at 2:37 a.m. with a stiff neck. Her phone was in the living room, but Jamess identical one lay charging beside the bed.
She unlocked itThomass birthday was the passcodeand froze. A notification glowed on the screen:
*»Miss you already, darling. Tomorrow at mine, as usual. Kisses, C.»*
Her hands turned to ice. She scrolled through the messages, each one a knife to the ribs. James had been seeing «C.»Charlottefor six months. His «business trips» were often lies. The Birmingham project? Hed been here in London, with her, in a flat hed rented under the guise of «client meetings.»
Photos confirmed it: a young, vibrant woman with auburn hair and a perfect smile. Everything Emmaweary, greying, stretched thinwas not.
Another message buzzed in: *»Asleep? Sweet dreams, my love.»*
Rage eclipsed the pain. She packed a bag, left Thomas with her mother, and took a taxi to Charlottes addressa gleaming high-rise near Canary Wharf.
The door opened to Charlotte in a silk robe, confusion flickering across her face. *»Can I help you?»*
*»Im Emma. Jamess wife.»*
The colour drained from Charlottes cheeks. *»Hehe said you were separating. That it was only for Thomas.»*
*»Classic,»* Emma muttered, stepping inside. The flat was immaculate: wine glasses on the table, Jamess favourite shirt draped over a chair. *»How long?»*
*»Seven months.»*
The door clicked open. James stood frozen, flowers in hand. *»Emmawhat?»*
*»Saving you the trouble of lying,»* she said coldly. *»I read everything.»*
He crumpled. *»It wasnt supposed to happen like this. I was going to talk after your trip.»*
*»Talk? About what? How youve been playing house while I juggled everything alone?»*
*»Weve been strangers for years!»* he burst out. *»Youre always at work or with Thomas. We never talk, never go out»*
*»And instead of fixing it, you ran to her?»*
Charlotte slipped out, leaving them in silence. James reached for her. *»Think about Thomas. We can»*
*»Dont,»* Emma wrenched away. *»You lost the right to use his name when you chose this.»*
She walked out. In the taxi, she finally let the tears fall. Fifteen years, gone. But as the city blurred past, a grim clarity settled over her. She dialled Mrs. Whitmore.
*»About Manchester. Ill go today.»*
Sometimes moving forward is the only way to escape the wreckage behind you.
**Lesson learned:** A marriage isnt broken by one liebut by all the truths left unspoken. And no amount of duty can substitute for presence.
