Grace walked into Victors study and finally understood why he spent so much time there.
You never hear a word of me! she slammed her hand onto the desk, making the porcelain cups on the saucers clatter. Im talking to you, and youre lost in your own thoughts again!
Victor flinched, looking up from his phone.
What? Sorry, I was daydreaming.
Daydreaming! Youre always daydreaming! Graces voice trembled with hurt. Ive told you three times that Lucy is inviting us to her cottage on Saturday. Are you going, or will you stay at work again?
Darling, I cant now, I have important matters, Victor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Can we postpone it to the next weekend?
What matters? Graces tone grew weary. Youre sixtytwo, youve been at the factory for thirty years and youre already retired. What could be more important than family?
Victor fell silent, staring off to the side. A tight knot formed inside Grace; he had never been quiet before. They used to talk for hours about everything under the sun.
Fine, she said, rising from the desk and beginning to clear the dishes. Ill go alone, as usual.
Victor opened his mouth as if to protest, then simply nodded and sank back into his phone. Grace carried the plates to the kitchen, feeling tears prick at her throat. She could not comprehend what was happening to their marriage. Forty years together, two grown children, three grandchildren, and now they felt like strangers.
It had all started three months earlier. Victor had retired, and Grace had been thrilled at the prospect of spending more time together. They had plans to visit the seaside, tidy the cottage, and see Lucy in Cambridge. Instead, Victor began locking himself away in his study for days on end, offering vague excuses a project to finish, consulting former colleagues, or simply being too tired and needing alone time.
Grace endured. She had learned to be patient over the decades, but when Victor missed his granddaughters birthday, claiming urgent work, her patience finally cracked. When he forgot their wedding anniversary, Grace was genuinely angry for the first time in years.
She washed the dishes and looked out the window. Spring was in full bloom, fresh leaves unfurling on the trees. She wanted to stroll, breathe the crisp air, enjoy life. Yet she stood in the kitchen, trying to grasp where her husband had gone. Physically he was there, but his spirit seemed absent.
The phone rang, displaying a photo of Lucy.
Hello, Grace tried to sound upbeat. Yes, I asked. No, he cant come. He says hes busy.
Busy? Lucy snorted. Grace, this is absurd. What could a retired man be busy with?
I dont know, Grace sighed, sinking onto a stool. Hes in his study, doing something. Ive stopped prying; its exhausting.
And you havent thought that maybe? Lucy hesitated. You know, men at our age sometimes
What? Grace finally caught on. Are you suggesting he has a lover?
Whats the harm in asking? Lucy answered cautiously. I dont want to upset you, but think about it. He disappears all day, doesnt answer, has become secretive. Maybe hes seeing someone.
Grace fell silent. The idea that Victor could be unfaithful never crossed her mind. They had survived hard times, poverty, illness, family troubles. Could he really have found another now that life was calm?
I dont believe it, she said finally. Victor isnt like that.
Grace, I dont want to believe it either, but the facts are there. Go into his study and see what hes doing. You have a right to know.
I cant, Grace shook her head, even though Lucy couldnt see her. That would be an invasion of his privacy.
What privacy? Youre husband and wife! There should be no secrets between you.
After a brief goodbye, Grace sat at the kitchen table, replaying Lucys words. A lover? Victor? Ridiculous. He had never looked at other women, at least not that she had ever noticed.
But what if Lucy was right? What if all these months he had been lying?
She stood decisively and headed for the study. The door was closed, as usual. She lifted her hand to knock, then paused. From inside came a soft rustle, like paper shuffling, and Victors low mumbling.
She knocked anyway.
Yes? Victors voice answered.
Victor, may I come in?
A pause, then the sound of hurried movement.
Just a minute!
Grace frowned. He was definitely hiding something. Her heart beat faster.
The door opened a crack, revealing Victors face.
What do you want?
Victor, you wont even let me into your study? I just wanted to know if youd be having dinner or were busy again.
Ill be, of course, he forced a smile. Give me twenty minutes.
Grace stepped back to the kitchen. Inside, she could almost feel the tension. He was definitely keeping something.
They ate in silence. Victor swallowed his food quickly and retreated to the study once more. Grace sat alone in front of the television, unable to focus on the programme. Thoughts raced, each more frightening than the last.
She went to bed early, but sleep eluded her. Victor returned late, slipping into bed beside her as gently as possible. She lay still, pretending to be asleep. They used to talk before sleep, share the days impressions, make plans. Now even that vanished.
Morning came with the smell of coffee. Victor was already at the kitchen table, scrolling on his tablet.
Good morning, Grace said.
Morning, he looked up. Coffee, would you like me to pour?
Ill pour myself.
She sat opposite him, watching his tired face. Grey hairs thickened at his temples, shadows lingered under his eyes.
Victor, she began softly, I need to talk.
What about? he didnt look up.
About us. About whats happening between us.
Nothings happening, he shrugged. Everythings the same.
No, it isnt! You avoid me. You spend whole days in that study. You missed our anniversary. You didnt even appear at our granddaughters birthday!
Victor finally met her eyes. A flicker of guilt passed through them.
Im sorry, he whispered. I really have been working a lot.
On what? she leaned forward. Tell me what youre working on. Why cant you share?
Its hard to explain, he looked away. Later, alright? Youll understand soon.
When is soon? she pressed.
Very soon. Just a little more patience.
She wanted to keep questioning, but the phone rang. Victor snatched it and hurried out into the hallway. She caught fragments of his conversation.
Yes, its ready No, she doesnt know Alright, Ill be there
Her stomach tightened. She didnt know what she didnt know. Who was he talking to?
Victor returned, pulling on his coat.
I have to go, he said. Ill be back for lunch.
Where to?
Business, he replied, and disappeared through the front door.
Grace sat staring at an empty mug. Business the same excuse again. Lucys words echoed in her mind. What if her friend was right?
The whole day she moved about the house, cooked, cleaned, but her thoughts kept circling back to the study. She knew she had the right to know, yet each time she approached the door she stopped herself, fearing she would betray his trust. Did she really trust him after all that had happened?
Evening brought a call from her daughter, Emily.
Mum, how are you both doing? Is Dad still lost in his projects?
Do you know what hes working on? Grace asked.
Well he told me it was something important, but he wont say more, Emily replied, sounding uneasy. Hes become a mystery lately.
The conversation only deepened Graces anxiety. If even their children were in the dark, perhaps everyone else knew something she didnt.
That night she lay awake, listening to Victors steady breathing beside her. Forty years together could it all crumble so easily?
The next morning Victor announced he would be late again.
Dont wait for me at dinner.
What again?
Just a bit more patience, love.
When the door shut behind him, Grace made a decision. She walked to the study, turned the knob, and found the door unlocked.
Inside the room smelled of paper and something familiar. On the desk lay folders, stacks of photographs, an open laptop. Her heart hammered as she stepped closer.
The first thing she saw was a framed wedding photo Victor in a crisp suit, Grace in a white dress, beaming. Beside it were pictures of their children as toddlers, then photos of the family at the seaside, at holidays, at Christmas.
She opened a folder and found printed photos arranged chronologically, each accompanied by handwritten notes.
1992 we married in a tiny flat in East London. Money was scarce, but love was abundant. Every evening you greeted me with a smile and I felt the luckiest man alive.
The next page showed their first car, a battered old Vauxhall.
We saved for three years. You gave up buying a new coat so we could afford it. When I finally brought it home, you cried with joy. We drove around town handinhand.
Grace turned page after page. Births, first steps, school performances, moving into a bigger house, trips to Brighton, his promotion at work, the day Emily got married. Each photograph was paired with a warm, intimate recollection.
Her hands trembled, tears blurred the ink. She realized Victor had been writing a book a chronicle of their life together.
She opened another, thicker bundle. Inside were more personal notes.
Tanya, youve always been my strength. When I was down, you lifted me. When we couldnt afford Moms medication, you sold your wedding ring. You said, Its just metal; our bond is in our hearts. I promised to buy you a new one, and when I finally could, I realised I loved you even more than on our wedding day.
Grace clutched the pages, remembering that night when she had sold the ring. She never imagined how much that sacrifice meant to him.
On the laptop, a document titled Our 41st Anniversary Gift was open. Victors recent words glowed on the screen.
Soon our fortyfirst anniversary will arrive. I want to give Tanya this book a record of our life, our love. She thinks Ive drifted away, that Im bored, but the truth is Ive never loved her more. These forty years are the best of my life. I want our children and grandchildren to see that true love exists. It isnt always easy or glamorous, but its real and lasts a lifetime.
Grace sobbed openly as she read each line, feeling his love flow through the words. She heard the study door open and turned to see Victor standing there, a nervous smile on his face, a small parcel in his hand.
Tanya he began.
She interrupted, Im sorry, I just
No, Im the one who should apologise, Victor stepped forward, knelt beside her chair, and took her hands. I got so caught up in making this surprise that I forgot to be present for you. I hid behind this project, thinking Id protect you, but I only pushed you away.
Grace stroked his hair. I thought youd left me for someone else.
What? No, never. Theres no one else. Youre my only love.
Victor opened the parcel, revealing another thick folder.
Remember when Aunt Vera passed last year? While sorting her things, I found her husbands diary. Hed recorded every important moment of his life. I realized we had nothing like that for our family. I decided to create our own record so our grandchildren would know how we lived and loved.
Grace laughed through tears. Lucy even suggested you had a mistress.
Victor chuckled, a sound that warmed the room. Me? A pensioner with a secret lover? The only woman I ever wanted is you.
He kissed her forehead, and she felt the warmth that had first drawn them together forty years ago.
Will you show me everything? she asked.
Almost finished, he admitted, grinning. Im printing it for the anniversary. Itll be a proper book.
Itll be the best gift I could ever receive, she said sincerely.
They spent the evening leafing through the photographs, sharing stories Victor had penned, laughing and crying together. Victor recalled how shed sung to him when he was ill, how theyd danced in the kitchen to an old record, how theyd dreamed of the future while sitting on a park bench.
Victor reflected, Ive learned that happiness isnt in big events or anniversaries. It lives in the little things your morning smile, our tea together, you being there.
Grace rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for the truth she had finally uncovered.
The next day she called Lucy.
Did you sort it out? Lucy asked.
Sorted, Grace replied, smiling. Theres no lover. Hes been writing a book about us. Can you believe it?
Wow! Thats romantic! Lucy exclaimed. Youre lucky, Grace.
Yes, Grace said, glancing at Victor tinkering with the coffee pot. I always knew, I just forget sometimes.
The anniversary passed quietly with close family. Children arrived with grandchildren, and Victor presented Grace with the beautifully bound book. The cover displayed their wedding photo; inside lay their whole life, year after year.
Emily wept while reading, Sergey (now James) stared at the pages in silence, and the little grandchildren asked, Granddad, did you really give Grandma a hundred roses for your fiftieth?
Victor laughed, Indeed. She always wanted a huge bouquet.
The children giggled, dreaming that one day they might have a love as steadfast.
When the house finally emptied, Grace and Victor remained together, the book open on their lap.
Thank you, Grace whispered. For all these years, for this book, for still being here.
Victor hugged her tightly. Thank you for your patience, your love, for walking this life with me.
They realized this was not an ending but a new beginning. They now understood the importance of cherishing each day, of giving attention when its needed, of speaking rather than staying silent, and of showing love through small, consistent actions.
Grace had entered the study and finally seen why Victor worked so much. That understanding brought her more happiness than she ever imagined, teaching her that true love thrives on everyday presence, not grand gestures, and that honesty and attention are the foundations of a lasting marriage.
