Dear Diary,
The autumn dusk seeped honeyed light into the kitchen. I stood at the window, slowly stirring my tea, the silver spoon clinking against the porcelain as my thoughts swirled around me. Something had felt off for weeksan instinct I couldnt quite name. Simon was staying later at the office more often than usual, his words clipped, his eyes avoiding mine. Yesterday he didnt come home at all, citing an unexpected business trip.
A ring on my mobile broke the reverie. The screen displayed Emmas namemy best friend for twenty years, since our days at the teachertraining college.
Ellen, we need to see each other, Emmas voice was unusually grave. Its urgent. Can I pop round?
Of course, I said, surprised by her urgency. Simons not home, so we can speak in peace.
After a brief pause she added, Thats exactly why I called.
I brushed off the odd tone. Emma and I had always shared everything: work woes, disappointments, triumphs. It was Emma whod introduced me to Simon at our graduation party fifteen years ago. Fifteen years of marriagefar from flawless, with its ups and downs, but, I thought, largely happy.
When she knocked, I had already set the table. Fresh cheese sconesEmmas favouritefilled the air with vanilla and warmth.
Emma looked pale, dark circles beneath her eyes, her makeup unable to conceal the nervous tension in her movements.
Whats wrong? I pulled her into a hug and led her to the kitchen. You look terrible. Work trouble?
She sat without touching her tea, fidgeting with a napkin, as if gathering courage.
Ellen, I dont know how to say this I have to tell you something.
I smiled reassuringly across the table. You know you can tell me anything. Whatever it is.
Emma lifted her gaze, a silent question mingled with fear and guilt.
I’m sorry, but Im pregnant. By your husband, she blurted, then covered her face with her hands.
Time seemed to freeze. I stared at her, stunned. Was this a cruel joke, a nightmare, a mistake? Suddenly the odd distance Id felt from Simon over the past months snapped into a clear picture: his unexplained aloofness, his frequent overtime, the strain in our relationship.
What? I managed to choke out.
I know its awful, Emma whispered, tears glistening. I never wanted to hurt you. It was accidental. At the June company party, remember? You missed it because of the flu.
I recalled that evening. Simon returned early the next morning, boisterous, the scent of fine whisky clinging to him. He regaled us with stories of ridiculous contests and the boss stumbling onto tables. I laughed, relieved he seemed happy.
Was that just once? I asked, my voice sounding foreign.
No, she said, averting her eyes. We saw each other a few more times. I know its unforgivable. I betrayed your trust, your friendship.
And Simon? Does he know about the child?
Yes. I told him last week. Hes bewildered. He says he loves you, doesnt want to destroy our family, but he cant abandon the baby.
I walked to the window. Outside, an old oaks leaves rustled in the wind. How many evenings had I stood there, waiting for Simon to come home, dreaming of a future, of children that never arrived? How many tears, doctor visits, hopeful scans And now my husband would be a fatherto my best friends baby.
Why are you telling me this? I asked without turning. What do you expect me to say?
I dont know, Emma replied softly. Maybe I hope for forgiveness, even though I dont deserve it. Or perhaps I just think you should hear it from me, not from anyone else. Im ready to disappear from your lives. If you can forgive Simon, I promise Ill never»
Dont, I cut in. Dont say things you cant keep. Youll have his child. Youre linked forever, whether you like it or not.
I faced Emma, seeing her both familiar and suddenly stranger. Wed shared secrets, countless latenight talks. I had thought I knew her as well as myself.
I cant even begin to respond, I whispered. I need time to process this. Please, just go.
She stood, hesitant, and took a step toward me. Ellen, I
Just leave. Now.
When the door clicked shut behind her, I sank onto the kitchen floor and wept. Everything Id trusted, everything Id believed, collapsed into a lie. The man I loved for fifteen years, the friend I trusted as my own siblingboth had shattered me in the cruelest way.
Simon arrived late, the house dimly lit. He flicked on a lamp, froze at the doorway, his face pale.
Ellen? Why are you sitting in the dark? Whats happened?
I looked at the man Id known inside and out for a decade and a half. I said simply, Emma came over.
His hand, clutching his briefcase, dropped uselessly.
What did she say?
Everything. Shes pregnant with your child. Youve been seeing each other for months.
He shuffled into the living room, sinking into an armchair.
Ellen, I dont know what to say. Im to blame, thats true. But its not what you think.
What am I supposed to think, Simon? My voice stayed eerily calm. That a friendly drink turned into a baby?
No, he ran a hand over his face. Im not trying to excuse myself. It started at that party. We drank too much, it was a mistake. We tried to forget it, but we met again, and it happened over and over.
How long?
About three months. No justification exists, but I need you to know I never planned to leave you. It was a weakness, a foolish lapse, not love.
What now? I asked. Now youll have a childthe child weve both dreamed of for years but never had.
He winced. I know how painful this is. Weve tried for years, held onto hope
Dont speak of hope, I snapped. Dont speak of our dreams youve crushed.
What do you want me to do? he asked softly.
What do you want to do?
He stood, paced the room. I love you, Ellen. Im your wife, weve built a life together but this child is also mine. I cant just turn away.
Of course you cant, I replied. And you shouldnt. Hes your blood.
But that doesnt mean I want to be with Emma. I dont love her. What happened between us was a mistake, a oneoff nightmare.
Does she love you?
He hesitated. I dont know. We never talked about it.
Did you ever talk at all? I asked, a bitter smile curling my lips. Or was it just secret meetings?
Ellen, please, he pleaded, reaching for my hand. I pulled away. We can try to fix this. I know itll be hard, almost impossible, but
But what? You think I can just forget that a child of yours is growing somewhere else? That every time I see Emma Ill be reminded of betrayal? You truly believe we can just turn a page?
He lowered his head. I dont know. Yet Im willing to try, if you give me a chance.
I need to think. You too. Im staying with my sister tonight. Well talk tomorrow.
Dont go, he said, standing quickly. Lets decide now.
Whats there to decide? You made your choice when you lay with my best friend. Live with the consequences.
My sisters flat welcomed me with warmth and a quiet hug. Ivy, my sister, didnt pry; she simply said, Stay as long as you need.
That night I lay awake, replaying memories of the early years with Simonour hopes for children, the countless visits to the doctor, the assurances that patience would be rewarded. All of it lay in ruins now.
The next morning Emma called, her voice cracked.
Ellen, I need to talk again. Just once more. I have to explain.
Whats there to explain? I sighed. Everythings clear.
It isnt. Please, give me a chance. Ill wait at the little café on the park corner at one.
Our caféa tiny spot wed occupied every Friday for yearshad been the backdrop for countless confidences, laughter, tears. Now another confession awaited.
I knew I should refuse, yet something in Emmas desperate tone made me agree.
The café was almost empty. Emma sat at our usual table by the window, a untouched coffee before her. When she saw me, she sprang up, then sat back down, unsure.
Thanks for coming, she whispered as I sat opposite.
Im listening, I said coldly. What do you want to explain?
She inhaled deeply. I know I dont deserve your attention or forgiveness. But I must tell you what really happened. I pursued Simon. I seduced him, I wanted his notice.
I smirked. And you think that changes anything? Hes an adult, he made his own choices.
Of course, she rushed. Im not trying to absolve him. You need the truth. I was jealous, Ellen. You had everythingloving husband, a beautiful home, a rewarding job. You radiated happiness. Im divorced, living alone, men never stick around. It ate at me.
So you set out to destroy my happiness?
No! I didnt plan any of this. At that party, when you and Simon argued and you didnt go, he was upset, drinking heavily. I comforted him, told him you still loved him, that things would get better. Then it happened.
I remembered that petty argumentover a trivial thing, not even an illness.
And then you kept meeting?
Yes, Emma admitted, eyes downcast. He wanted to stop immediately, said he loved me, that it was a mistake. But I called, texted, found excuses to see him. I knew his weaknesses, I used them.
Why tell me all this?
Because Simon loves you, she said simply. He always has, even when we were together. I was a standin, a surrogate. I knew it, yet I kept going because he was a piece of your life. Silly, right?
I sat in silence, trying to digest it. Was there any motive beyond lust? Was she trying to manipulate my sympathy?
What about the baby? I asked finally. Was that part of your plan?
No, she shook her head. It was accidental. I didnt plan a pregnancy. When I found out, I decided to keep the childnot to tie Simon to me, but because Im fortythree and this might be my last chance to be a mother.
The words hit a familiar chordmy own thoughts about time slipping away.
Im not asking you to understand or forgive me, Emma continued. I know I shattered our friendship. But if you can forgive Simon he isnt the villain, just flawed. He loves you, Ellen. Always has.
What about the child? I asked. If Simon and I stay together, the child will still be part of our life, wont it?
I get that, Emma nodded. I wont interfere. I wont demand more than what the law says. If you dont want to see me, Ill respect that. Ill move to another city, find work elsewhere.
I looked at the woman whod stood by me for two decades, now carrying my husbands child. My emotions swirledanger, hurt, betrayal, a strange compassion.
I need time, I finally said, standing. I cant decide now.
Of course, Emma replied quickly. Just dont blame Simon too harshly. Blame me.
I left the café with a heavy heart, strolling through the park, oblivious to the golden leaves and the crisp autumn sky. Fragments of conversation, memories, doubts raged inside me.
What now? Can I forgive Simon? Live with his child from another woman? Let go of the betrayal and start anew?
I didnt know. Yet somewhere deep down a tiny ember of hope lingeredthat even the darkest night can give way to sunrise, that true love might survive such a trial.
That evening I returned home. Simon waited in the dim living room, just as Id waited for him yesterday. We talked at lengthabout the past, the uncertain future, the pain, the possibility of forgiveness, the trust wed have to rebuild, and the baby who would soon arrive, no matter what we chose.
By morning I realised I wasnt ready to erase fifteen years of life, fifteen years of love, because of a single, terrifying mistake. The road to forgiveness would be long and hard, but wed try to walk it together.
A week later I called Emma. I need to speak about the futureabout the three of us.
There was a pause, then Emmas soft voice: Thank you, Ellen. Thank you for not erasing me completely.
I cant promise well be as close as before, I admitted honestly, but that child will need both a mother and a father. Ill try to find the strength to accept that.
Hanging up, I moved to the window. Outside, golden leaves swirled in a waltz. Autumn, the season of letting go, of preparing for the long winter. Yet after every winter comes spring. Perhaps, in due time, our lives will bloom anewdifferent, perhaps deeper, certainly wiser.
Only time will tell. For now I simply keep moving forward, day by day, step by step, trusting that even the deepest wound will eventually scar over, a reminder of what was, not a barrier to what may come.
