12April2025
Today began like any other. While sorting Emilys laundry I felt something stiff in the pocket of her navy coat. Pulling it out I found a crisp envelope, and inside two airline tickets for the Maldives. My heart stopped. The outwardbound flight is in two weeks, the return in ten days, businessclass. One ticket bears my name Andrew Sutherland the other reads Grace Sutherland.
Who is Grace? There is no Grace Sutherland in our family. I stared at the paper, the dates, the class, the printed names. My mind raced: could it be a clerical error? A typo? But the second name was printed clearly, no stray letters.
I slipped the tickets back into the envelope, pressed the envelope into the coat pocket, and tried to steady my breathing. Andrew thats me was supposed to be home from work in an hour, and I needed to decide what to do next.
I made a pot of tea and sat by the kitchen window. Twentyfive years of marriage have given us our share of spats, misunderstandings, periods of coldness. But infidelity? I could never have imagined it. Emily has always seemed solid, dependable. We met on a walking group tackling Ben Nevis, later trekked the Lake District and the Scottish Highlands together. After we married we kept traveling whenever work allowed, though the trips grew rarer as responsibilities piled up.
Our last holiday together was three years ago, a twoweek stay in Cornwall. Emily remembered how Id promised that next summer wed go abroad, but life intervened a sudden deadline for me, a promotion for her. Now it seemed I was heading to the Maldives, but not with her.
I dialled Lucy, an old university friend.
Lucy, can you talk a minute? I said, my voice betraying a tremor.
Andrew? Whats wrong? she asked instantly.
I found two tickets to the Maldives in Emilys coat. One is mine, the other is for a Grace Sutherland.
There was a pause, then Lucys cautious voice.
Could it be a work trip? Some corporate thing?
A work trip to the Maldives? And why would Grace be listed as my wife? I laughed bitterly.
It does sound odd, she agreed. What are you going to do?
I dont know. Maybe Ill wait and see if she tells me herself. Perhaps theres an explanation.
Or perhaps there isnt, Lucy replied softly. Youve been together a long time, but people do change, especially after a quartercentury together.
I dont think hed… I mean, I dont think Emily would, I muttered, stubbornness fighting the rising doubt.
Everyone says that until theyre faced with reality, Lucy said, sighing. Why not just ask her straight away? Show her the tickets and demand an answer.
And if she lies?
Youve lived with her for twentyfive years. Youll know when shes not being truthful.
Her words lingered. Maybe I knew her better than I gave myself credit for. I resolved to think it over.
The evening passed in a haze of memories: Emily staying late at the office, sudden important meetings on weekends, new shirts, a pricey cologne, a fresh haircut at the highstreet barber. It was a stark contrast to the woman who never bothered with such things.
I forced myself not to spiral into imagination. I needed facts. I headed to Andrews study our study, where we both kept our work materials. Normally I respected Emilys privacy, but the situation was extraordinary.
The desk was immaculate; he always liked order. I knew his computer password our wedding date, 14062000. I opened his email, feeling oddly guilty, and scanned the inbox. Nothing incriminating, just work correspondences, newsletters, a message from an old schoolmate.
Then I checked his browsing history. There it was: searches for Maldives luxury resorts, romantic Maldives getaways, what to pack for Maldives vacation. The last query: gift for my beloved on the Maldives.
My breath caught. Beloved not wife.
I shut the laptop, wiped away tears that threatened to spill. I could not let Emily see me breaking down.
When Andrew returned from work, I had managed to compose myself and even prepared dinner our usual mushroom casserole. He slipped off his coat, kissed me on the cheek, and said, Hey love, whats on the menu?
Casserole, your favourite, I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
He smiled, Great, Im starving.
We ate, making small talk about the weather, the news, weekend plans. I watched him, looking for any sign of deceit. He talked about a new project, asked about my day, laughed at my jokes all the usual.
Any trips coming up? I asked casually as I poured tea.
Nothing set yet, he shrugged. Why?
Just thinking it might be nice to get away together. Its been ages since weve had a proper break.
He gave me a strange look, as if the question struck a chord, then said, Yeah, we should figure something out.
A knot tightened in my chest. He was lying, right then, looking straight at me.
Where would you like to go? I pressed, trying to sound nonchalant. Maybe the Maldives, for example?
He flinched ever so slightly, a flicker I caught.
Maldives? he said, forcing a nervous grin. Why the Maldives all of a sudden?
Just a suggestion, I shrugged. I hear its beautiful.
He stared away. Probably too expensive and far.
My mind churned: Lies, lies.
What about Grace? I asked abruptly.
His mug paused midair.
What Grace? I repeated. Grace Sutherland. Do you know her?
He stammered, Where what are you talking about?
I stood, walked to the coat rack, retrieved the envelope, and placed it on the table.
I found this today while doing the laundry. Explain, please.
He stared at the tickets as if seeing them for the first time, then met my eyes.
This isnt what you think.
What do I think, Andrew? I whispered. That youre planning to fly to the Maldives with another woman? That twentyfive years mean nothing to you?
No, thats not it! he snapped, standing abruptly. Its not what you think at all!
How? My voice cracked, tears finally spilling. Who is Grace and why are you lying to me?
He moved to hug me, but I stepped back.
Dont. Just tell me the truth.
He sighed heavily. Alright. The truth is I messed up. I booked the tickets months ago, but I never told you because I wanted it to be a surprise for our silver wedding.
I stared at the screen of his laptop. He opened an email from a travel agency, showing a confirmation for two tickets to the Maldives under the names Andrew Sutherland and Grace Sutherland.
I pointed, But why does the ticket say Grace?
He scrolled down. Read this: Dear Mr Sutherland, an error occurred when issuing the tickets. Your spouses name was entered incorrectly. We apologise. New tickets will be issued within three business days. The email arrived this morning. I hadnt gotten a chance to explain.
My heart pounded. So the tickets are for us?
Yes, for us, he said, taking my hands. Ive been planning a surprise for our 25th anniversary. I wanted everything perfect, so I saved up, chose a resort, but I panicked about ruining the surprise, and the system mixed up the name.
I felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. I was an idiot, I admitted. I let my imagination run wild because youve changed lately new shirts, a haircut, late nights. I thought you were hiding something.
You were preparing for the trip, he said. I bought nicer clothes because I wanted to look proper beside you on a beautiful island. The extra projects at work were to fund the holiday.
Shame flushed my cheeks. Im sorry, love. I ruined the surprise with my doubts.
He brushed a kiss on my cheek. You didnt ruin anything. Well still go. You do want to go to the Maldives, dont you?
With you, anywhere, I whispered, a smile breaking through my tears.
That night I lay awake while Andrew slept beside me, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. I realized how fragile trust can be a single doubt can threaten a structure built over decades, like a house of cards.
The next morning I called the travel agency. The operator, a woman named Helen, confirmed the mistake and said new tickets would be delivered that day. Sometimes the system glitches when its busy, she explained. We had a promotion on Maldives bookings, and data got crossed.
Relief settled over me like morning mist lifting. That evening I set the table with candles, a bottle of prosecco, and waited for Andrews return.
What are we celebrating? he asked, surprised by the setting.
Us, I said simply. And our upcoming trip.
He smiled, produced the envelope from his coat, and handed it to me. Inside were fresh tickets bearing our correct names: Andrew Sutherland and Emily Sutherland.
Thank you, I said, meeting his eyes. For believing in me after all these years, and for giving us another twentyfive to look forward to.
We clinked glasses as snow began to fall over London, blanketing the city in white. I thought of how lucky I was, and how easily I could have let a simple clerical error destroy everything.
Two weeks later we were airborne, soaring over the Atlantic. Andrew took my hand and said, I was scared youd say no to this. You never like surprises.
I love you, I replied. Everything else doesnt matter.
We gazed out the window at the endless sky, a reminder that love, like the horizon, can stretch forever if you keep watching it together.
Back home, in Andrews desk drawer, lies another envelope containing a diamond ring a gift for our silver wedding, to be presented at sunset on a Maldives beach. I know now that the biggest surprise of all was learning how fragile trust can be and how vital honesty is.
Lesson learned: never let unfounded suspicions cloud the years of shared truth; speak openly, and let love be the compass that guides you through any misunderstanding.
