13September
The September sun was cool but still gentle, the leaves turning yellow and swirling under my boots as the smell of damp earth announced the coming autumn. Emily rushed about, stuffing suitcases. She was headed north to Yorkshire where her mother lay ill, suddenly struck by a serious condition.
At first it seemed a simple flu, but a deep unease settled in Emilys chest and grew each day. Doctors delivered a grim diagnosis that hit her like a cold shower. I stayed in London, unable to accompany her. She made the only sensible choice: take our son, Oliver, and fly straight to her mothers side. Thus began a harsh, exhausting battle for every precious moment.
The first three months were a blur of endless appointments, endless tests, and frantic searches for a competent physician. Whenever a rare window opened, Emily would return home, but something had shifted. The house was still tidy, the garden still tidy, I still tried to keep the routine, yet her thoughts were glued to Yorkshire.
Just as her mothers condition steadied a bit, Emily was forced to pack again. Oliver, weary from the flights and the sterile hospital corridors, dutifully followed her. More planes, more doctors, hope flaring then fading. By March there was a brief respite: her mother improved slightly, and Emily managed a short twoweek return to London.
During that lull a ridiculous incident unfolded. Oliver complained that his phone had slipped into the bath. Emily recalled a tip from a womens magazine: place the device in a bowl of rice. She dried it, switched it on, and the screen lit up. A message appeared just as I was dozing on the sofa.
Oliver, lookyour phone works, she said, handing it to me. I lazily swiped through the notifications and froze.
Whats this? I asked, eyes widening at a text that read, Im falling in love with you more and more each day.
I tried to play it off. Its a joke, love. A colleague was teasing mejust office banter.
Joke? I crossed my arms, feeling a chill despite the warm flat. Youre having fun?
Im being honest, its nonsense. We work together, nothing more.
Are you sure? Because messages like that arent typically sent by just a colleague.
I insisted I was certain, blaming her stress over her mothers illness. I suggested a walk to clear the air. Exhausted by three months of relentless pressure, she accepted, assuming I was merely nervous.
We returned home, only for another message to arrive from the same woman, this time more explicit. Jealousy stabbed, but I urged Emily to talk to me first, not to start a scene.
Oliver, look at this. Its not a joke any longer, she said, voice trembling.
I took the phone, my face paling.
Its a mistake. Ill tell her to stop.
Will you write to her, or should I? she asked, her voice shaking.
I love only you, Emily. Lets not make a fuss over nonsense.
Soon the routine resumedflights, hospitals, endless tests. Oliver remained the sole constant amid the chaos.
April brought another brief calm. Emilys mother felt a little better, allowing Emily to return home once more. Yet a lingering SMS shed skimmed earlier haunted her. She could not simply ignore those words.
She confronted me directly.
James, I need the truth. I cant live with vague explanations.
Ive explained everything! It was a clumsy prank. Why bring it up again?
Because it unsettles me, she replied firmly.
I grew defensive.
Its just you overthinking. Its nothing.
Emilys voice turned icy. I spoke to your colleagueshe contacted me herself.
She stared straight into my eyes, reading out the messages: Yes, I love him. Yes, we were together.
I was silent, my face turning ashen.
Leave, she whispered, voice trembling with restrained emotion. Pack your things and go.
I begged, No, youre making a terrible mistake! I never did anything with her.
She thrust the phone at me, displaying the incriminating screenshots. Your joke is right here.
I hung my head. The silence stretched on forever. When I finally looked up, guilt and desperation mingled in my eyes.
Fine. I slipped. I love only you, Emily. Thats the truth.
She laughed bitterly. Three years of lies! How could you treat a person you claim to love with such disrespect?
Its not a lie. I truly love you; I just wasnt there often enough.
Not being there is cowardice, she snapped, stepping back. Youre a coward!
I tried to reach for her hand. I didnt leave you, Emily. Im still here
She pulled away. You didnt leave because it was convenient, not because you loved me. I have to go. My mothers condition has worsened.
Another flight, another trip to Yorkshire, another round of hospitals. This time the weight of my betrayal sat alongside her mothers illness.
June passed. Her mother died in August. By New Years, Emily drifted through days like a fog, mechanically performing chores. The house that once felt like a sanctuary now seemed foreign. Oliver, our anchor, kept her from sinking entirely into the gloom.
When the first months of despair faded, Emily began to wake up, though never fully recovered. Every glance at me burned. She could not bear to hear my voice or see my face. Yet she clung to the responsibility of caring for Oliver, who seemed to sense her turmoil.
Realising the depth of my wrongdoing, I tried to mend things. I stayed close, offered help, begged forgiveness, pleaded for a fresh start.
Emily, please, lets try again. I made a horrible mistake, I know that. I never really left when you went to Yorkshirethat proves my love, doesnt it?
Her mind replayed the stolen messages shed discovered while cleaning my phone. The words of the other woman lingered:
Youre my everything, shed written, and the reply:
Did I tell your wife everything correctly? Anyone would have left, but you youre a rag!
Emily watched Oliver building a tower of blocks, his concentration reminding her of her own childhood. He didnt deserve a home shadowed by my deceit.
I entered the room with two mugs of tea.
Here, a hot brew. Please, have a sip.
She took the mug but didnt drink.
I cant, James
We agreedtime heals. Give it time. Ill do anything for your forgiveness.
Time? she said with a bitter smile. Time has shown youre an expert liar. You stayed because it was convenient, not out of love. Her messages prove it.
It was foolish on her part! I told her it was over!
You didnt forbid her; you just chose the easier lie to spare me a collapse.
Emily inhaled deeply.
I cannot forgive you now. Maybe never. But I must live, and Oliver must live. Ill arrange for him to stay with his aunt for a few weeks, and Ill move in with a friend until I figure out what I truly want.
I turned ashen, realizing this pause was a genuine chance to lose everything.
Emily, dont do this. Ill see a therapist, quit my jobanything, just dont leave.
Im not leaving you, James. Im leaving the lies. I cant love you while you live in deception. Well talk again when I return, if I ever do.
She never returned. Two months later we lived apart, and eventually Emily decided the family would not survive, even for Olivers sake. I changed jobs, cut ties with the other woman, but the memory of her remains a wound I cannot close.
Lesson: deceit may hide behind jokes and excuses, but truth has a way of surfacing. When you betray the trust of those who love you, you forge a path that leads only to isolation. I have learned that honesty, however painful, is the only foundation upon which any relationship can survive.
