**Diary Entry**
*»I was with your husband while you lay ill,»* Emma smiled, adjusting her perfectly styled hair. Her voice was calm, almost lazy, as if she were discussing the weather rather than ripping apart my life.
Slowly, I turned my head on the pillow, which felt as heavy as stone. The stale scent of medicine in the bedroom mixed with the sharp, cloying perfume Emma woresomething expensive, already seeping into the walls, the curtains, the very essence of the house, pushing out everything familiar.
*»And now Im taking him, and the house. Olivers already signed everything. Dont worry, Ill call you a social taxi.»*
Her eyes swept the room like a new mistress, lingering on the antique birchwood dressing tablethe only family heirloom I had left. Her smile was sharp, surgical.
I stared at the woman Id called a sister for twenty years. Two decades of shared holidays, whispered secrets, tears shed on each others shoulders. All of it reduced to one sentence, thrown into that stifling, pain-filled bedroom.
*»You couldnt have,»* I whispered, my voice cracking like an old record.
*»Why not?»* Emma strode to the window and yanked the heavy curtain aside, flooding the room with cruel daylight. I flinched. *»You were always too proper, Kate. Too convenient. Did you think your sacrifices made you virtuous? No, darling. In this world, thats just weakness. A resource to be used.»*
Olivermy husbandappeared in the doorway. He wouldnt meet my eyes, staring instead at the parquet floor, an old suitcase in his hand. *My* suitcase, unused for years.
*»Oliver?»* I said, and in that single word was my last, desperate hope.
He flinched, shoulders slumping, but still didnt look up. *»Im sorry, Kate. This is better. For everyone.»* His voice was muffled, as if spoken underwater.
Emma let out a short, triumphant laugh. *»See? He doesnt even deny it. Men want strength, action, passion. You you were just background. Comfortable, warm, but fadedmaking me shine all the brighter.»*
She leaned over the bed, close enough that I felt her breath on my cheek. *»I slept in your bed, wore your silk robes while you fought for your life. And he looked at me the way he never looked at you. With hunger. Real desire.»*
Every word was a calculated blow. No shouting, no melodrama. Just that calm, venomous whisperand the guilty silence of the man whod once sworn eternal love.
*»Get out,»* I said, so quietly I barely heard myself.
*»Oh, Im going. But not alone.»* Emma straightened, regally nodding at Oliver. *»Darling, help me. Kates things need to be packed. We mustnt upset her.»*
Oliver stepped forward, finally meeting my eyes. His were hollow, grey with shame. He obediently picked up the suitcase and carried it out, careful not to brush the furniture.
I watched them go. The physical pain of illness faded, replaced by something colder, harder. I realised thenId been living an illusion. A cosy world of my own making, one that hadnt just crumbled today. It had been dead for years. I just hadnt wanted to see it.
When the front door clicked shut, I lay still for minutes. Then, fighting nausea and dizziness, I pushed myself up. My legs trembled. I made it to the dressing table, staring at my reflectionpale, exhausted, dark circles under my eyes. But the eyes themselves were different. No fear, no tears. Just dry, icy calm.
I picked up the phone. My fingers shook, but I dialled a number I knew by heart.
*»William? Its Kate. I need your help. I think Olivers made a terrible mistake.»*
A pause. William, Olivers long-time business partner, a man of the old school, hated drama.
*»What happened? Is Oliver alright?»*
*»More than alright. He just walked out with my best friend. And my suitcase.»*
Another pause, heavier this time.
*»Understood. Money? Documents? What did he sign?»* His voice turned clipped, businesslike.
*»She said everything. The house. Probably the accounts too. Shes confident, William. Not a shred of doubt. This isnt just an affair.»*
*»Where are you now?»*
*»Still here. But I wont stay. Ill go to Grans flat by the river.»*
*»Good. Dont touch anything. Dont speak to anyone. Ill be there in an hour. And Katetry to remember everything Olivers said about work these past six months. Any detail. Especially new projects. Names he mentioned. Wait for me.»*
I hung up. One hour. Thats what I had. I scanned the bedroom, now foreign to me. Weakness came in waves, but something stronger than willpower pushed me forward.
I walked to the wardrobe. Emmas clothes hung among mine. I didnt pack a thing. Instead, I pressed a hidden panel behind my wardrobe. A small safe opened. Oliver thought only he knew about it. But I knew every inch of this housebecause Id built it.
Inside were documents and flash drives. I took the newest one, slipped it into my pocket, then texted an old contact in cybersecurity.
Leaving the house, I didnt look back. I wasnt just leaving twenty years of marriage. I was leaving behind the Kate who forgave, endured, believed.
The flat by the river smelled of old books and dust. I sat at the kitchen table, the walls wrapping me in safety.
William arrived precisely on time. He dropped a leather briefcase on the table.
*»Talk.»*
So I did. About the illness. How Emma visited daily. How Oliver grew distant, blaming a *»difficult project.»*
*»Project»* William rubbed his temples. *»He called it Phoenix. I was against it. Too risky, almost fraudulent. But Oliver wouldnt listen.»*
*»Her idea?»* I asked quietly.
*»Emmas? Now Im sure. She worked for a rival firm we nearly bankrupted last year. Revenge, it seems. The perfect plan. She found his weaknessyour husband, blinded by greed and lust.»*
He opened the briefcase.
*»The worst part? He used my digital signature for a loan. Massive, secured against our shared assets. I was in Germany for surgery when he called. Said it was life or death. I believed him. Fool.»*
I watched him, cold clarity settling in. *»He couldnt have done this alone. He didnt have the knowledge.»*
*»But he did it.»*
*»No,»* I shook my head. *»He was just the executor. She guided him. I found her drafts in our shared cloud. Oliver was carelessthought I wouldnt understand those folders. There were schemes, calculations. Step-by-step instructions for him.»*
I pulled out the flash drive.
*»My contact decrypted it. Olivers work archive. He always made backups. Every transaction, every emailnot to me, of course. Fake addresses. But we can prove whos behind them.»*
William stared at the drive, then at me. Respect flickered in his eyes.
*»Kate I underestimated you.»*
*»Everyone did,»* I said, my voice steady. *»And that was their biggest mistake.»*
The next few days turned the flat into a war room. William brought in his lawyer. We worked tirelessly. Physically weak, I was fuelled by something newan unshakable resolve.
We uncovered Emmas double game. She wasnt just sabotaging Olivers firm. She planned to bankrupt his creditors too, siphoning everything offshore. Oliver was just a pawn.
*»We have enough for fraud charges,»* the lawyer said.
*»Thats not enough,»* I replied. *»Prisons too easy. They should feel what I did. The emptiness.»*
William studied me. *»What do you propose?»*
*»Set up a meeting. Tomorrow. At the old office. Say Swiss investors for Phoenix are interested. Emma wont resist gloating. Shell come to savour her victory.»*
The next day, tension hung thick in the boardroom. Oliver and Emma entered togetherhim tense, her radiant in a dress worth a secretarys annual salary.
Only William and I sat at the table.
*»Where?»* Oliver began.
*»There are no investors,»* William said flatly. *»Im the only one here.»*
Emma scoffed. *»William, spare us the theatrics. Everythings legal. And the house? He gifted it to me.»*
She smirked at me. *»You shouldve taken better care of your husband, darling. Not wasted away in hospitals.»*
I didnt answer. I pressed a button. The projector lit up, displaying files from the cloudtransfer schemes, Olivers instructions. Then, emails with an offshore firm, where Emma discussed *»cutting loose»* both creditors and Oliver.
Emma paled. Oliver stared, horror dawninghed been betrayed too.
William slid a folder across the table.
*»This is a police statement. And these are papers transferring your shares to me, Oliver. Youll sign them. Now.»*
*»IIll sign,»* Oliver stammered. *»Sheshe planned it all! I didnt want this!»*
It ended not with a bang, but a whimper. The betrayer turning on his partner.
Emma shot up, face twisted. *»Youll regret this, you worm!»*
*»No,»* I said, standing. *»Youll be the one regretting it. For underestimating the quiet, weak woman. Now get out.»*
They left. William exhaled.
*»Congratulations, Katherine. Weve saved the company.»*
I walked to the window. Life went on. I felt no joy, no vengeancejust relief.
A month later, I returned to the house for my things. It stood empty, hollow. Emmas perfume had faded. Only a ghost of ruin remained. I felt no longing. That house had been a stage set.
My real home was Grans flat. By training, I was a restorer. Now, I returned to itstarting with an antique wardrobe. Breathing life back into old things, I rebuilt myself.
William visited often, not as a boss, but a friend. He once admitted, *»You taught me the best things take patience and honesty.»*
Our bond stayed warm, undemanding. We didnt need more.
Two years later, I stood in my sunlit workshop, the smell of wood and coffee in the air. The company archives Id organised for William had uncovered forgotten contracts, earning the firm a fortune. He offered me a finance role. I declined.
Instead, I opened my own restoration studio. My name grew respected. Occasionally, I thought of the pastnot with pain, but curiosity.
Oliver? I heard hed aged, working as a clerk in his hometown, still chasing failed ventures. He called once, begging forgivenessand money.
*»You had money, Oliver. A home. A life you traded for glitter. Learn to live with your choices.»*
He never called again.
Emma fared worse. She avoided prison but lost everythingreputation, job, home. The last I saw her, she was leaving a discount store, bitterness in her eyes. She still blamed me. Never understanding shed destroyed herself.
I noddedpolite, distantand walked on. Nothing remained. No friendship, no anger. Just scorched earth.
That evening, William visited my workshop, as he often did. We drank coffee, talked books, old films.
*»Tired,»* he admitted. *»Sometimes I want to quit and polish furniture too.»*
*»Its not as simple as it looks,»* I smiled, running a hand over an antique table.
*»I know. You taught me the best things take honesty.»* He looked at me warmly. *»Im glad you called me that day.»*
*»So am I.»*
Alone later, I turned on quiet music, tied my apron, and worked. Ahead was a night of careful, beloved labour.
I wasnt afraid of solitude anymore. Loneliness and wholeness arent the same. You can be surrounded and empty, or alone and whole. I chose the latter.
And for the first time, I was truly happy.
A year later, I found love againlearning to trust without fear. Because everyone deserves a second chance.
**Epilogue**
Two years on, my workshop thrives. Ive taken on apprentices. Occasionally, I think of the pastnot with regret, but quiet gratitude.
Oliver still drifts, a shadow of himself. Emma? Last I heard, shed moved abroad, still chasing the life she lost.
But Ive built something real. Not an illusion, not a performance. Just a lifehonest, mine.
And thats enough.
