The Dream of the Empty Account
«Have you lost your mind? You spent the money we saved for five years on a flat for your pregnant mistress? You threw away my moneyour moneyon some… I can’t even find the words! How could you…»
Thirteen years Anna had lived with her husband. She had loved Edward madly, simply for existinghis perpetually messy chestnut hair, that tired, tender smile he reserved for their eight-year-old son, Oliver. Life in their quiet market town moved slowly, predictably, the years blending into one another.
…Edward arrived at exactly half past nine. Lately, he’d been working late, but Annie hadnt thought much of ither beloved was providing, after all. He slammed the door, shrugged off his jacket, which smelled wrongnot of his usual cologne, but something cloying, floral. Annie noticed it immediately.
«Hello,» he muttered, kissing the top of her head. «Exhausted. Bloody awful day.»
«Hello. Are you hungry? Come eat.»
«No, thanks. Need a shower.»
He walked past her, and Annie felt a slow, creeping unease. Again, refusing dinner. Was there someone else? Hed been coming home later, his phone always in his pocket now, never left on the side table. Worse, he placed it face-down, always locked. Any attempt to touch it made him twitch.
«You’re late,» she said, rising to clear the table. «Busy at work?»
Edward lingered in the bathroom doorway.
«Yeah, love. You know how it isend of the quarter. Reports. Bloody nightmare.»
«Why do you smell like that?» The question came out sharper than she meant.
Edward froze. She saw itthe flicker of panic.
«Smell like what?» He tried to sound casual, but his shoulders tensed.
«Flowers. Something sweet, perfumed. Not your aftershave.»
«Oh, must be someone at the office. Lucy from HR was showing off new perfume. Stank the place out.» He waved a hand. «Dont hold me up, Annie. Im knackered.»
*Lucy from HR. Right.*
The scent had haunted her for weeks. Shed tried to convince herself it was nothingjust colleagues wearing strong fragrances…
…The familys dream lived in a savings account, opened five years ago. A dream of a flat for Oliver, something to give him when he grew up. They scrimped every spare pennyEdward from his engineers salary at the local factory, Annie from her modest earnings sewing dresses for private clients. No holidays for five years, no new car, no luxuriesexcept for Olivers future. By now, there should have been close to £25,000. Enough to get him to university, keep him out of grotty student digs.
The blow came without warning. A client paid Annie early, even added a tip for her quick work. She went to the bankshe couldve done it online, but the sun was out, and she fancied the walk.
The teller, a young woman named Emily whom shed known for years, smiled politely.
«Hello, Mrs. Harper. How can I help?»
«Hello, Emily. Id like to check the balance on our savings account. And deposit a little extra, if I could.»
«Of course. May I see your ID?»
Annie handed it over. Emilys fingers tapped at the keyboard.
«Right…» Emily frowned. «Mrs. Harper, the account… its empty.»
«What do you mean, empty?» Annies voice sounded distant, like someone elses.
She thought there must be a mistake.
«Completely empty. Zero pounds, zero pence.»
The floor tilted. Annie gripped the counter.
«Emily, thats impossible. Are you certain? We opened it five years agoEdward James Harper, my husband. I deposit into it every month!»
«Yes, Mrs. Harper.» Emily lowered her voice, pity creeping in. «The last large transaction was two weeks ago. Cash withdrawal. A substantial amount.»
«How much?» The words barely came out.
«Twenty-four thousand nine hundred pounds. Withdrawn on a Tuesday. Mr. Harper closed the account.»
*Two Tuesdays ago.* Edward had come home late that night, claimed a meeting ran over.
«Thank you, Emily. I need a full statement. Now.»
…Annie left the bank unsteadily. She didnt remember driving home. Twenty-five thousand. Gone.
***
When Edward returned, Annie sat at the kitchen table, the printed statement folded neatly in half. No tearsjust a cold, eerie calm, the kind that comes before disaster.
Edward walked in, tossed his keys onto the shelf, rubbing his forehead.
«Alright? Hows things?»
«Sit down, Edward,» Annie said. Her voice was flat, unfamiliar.
Edward glanced at the table, saw the papers. Understanding dawned slowly on his face.
«Whats this?» He didnt sit.
«Sit. We need to talk.»
He sank into the chair opposite.
«Annie, I dont know what this is about.»
«Stop lying, Edward. You know. I went to the bank today. The accounts empty. Twenty-four thousand nine hundred. Gone.»
Edward stared at his hands. He didnt deny it.
«How did you find out?»
«Does it matter? Wheres the money, Edward?»
«I… I bought a flat.»
«A flat? Where? For *who*?»
Edward exhaled. When he looked up, there was no remorsejust irritation, and something bitter.
«For her.»
«Whos *her*?» Annies voice was eerily calm, like discussing the weather.
«Edward. Say her name.»
«Sophie. Sophie…»
Annie stared. Edward shrank under her gaze.
«Annie, I dont know how it happened… Remember that work retreat last year? The one the boss forced us all on? Thats where I met her…»
Annie cut in, her voice steady.
«Go on.»
«Sophieshes different. Wild. Makes me feel young again. Youre… safe, Annie. Like home. But with her, its…»
Annies hands clenched. She wanted to scream, to smash plates. But she didnt.
«Keep talking.»
«We stopped seeing each other for a while. She dumped me. I was gutted. Called her, begged. Then she got back in touch. And thenshes pregnant. Annie, I couldnt leave her with nothing. Shes been kicked out by her mum. I couldnt let my daughter be homeless!»
Annie stood, walked to the window.
«So you protect your mistresss child, but not your own son? Brilliant. Heres whats happening: tomorrow, you sign your half of this house over to Oliver. When hes older, Ill sell it, and my boy will have his own place. As for youI dont care. Ill file for divorce in the morning. Try to stop me, and Ill ruin you.»
Of course, Edward tried to win her backlingering outside the house, calling daily, sending pleading texts. Annie never replied. The divorce went through. The mistress didnt want him either. The baby, born right on time, wasnt histhe almond-shaped eyes made that clear.
And that was that.
