**Betrayal**
“Lily… oh God, Lily—” Sophie sobbed into the phone, her voice breaking.
“What’s wrong? Talk properly! Is it James? Sophie, why won’t you answer me?” Lily shouted, gripping the receiver.
“Wuh—William… he—” Sophie dissolved into fresh wails.
“William? What happened? Was there an accident?” Lily pictured Sophie shaking her head, as if she could somehow see her.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m hanging up. I’ll be there in ten minutes—wait for me,” Lily snapped. She waited, listening to the muffled cries before giving up and ending the call.
She threw on a jacket, grabbed her handbag, double-checked for her phone and keys, and locked the flat behind her. Sophie lived just down the road, so Lily hurried on foot, occasionally breaking into a jog while muttering under her breath. “She never says what’s happened—I swear, if this is over nothing…”
Five minutes later, she stood outside Sophie’s building, jabbing at the intercom. Static crackled through the speaker.
“Soph, open up! It’s me!” Lily shouted. Another burst of static, then the buzz of the lock.
She rushed inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Darkness swallowed her whole, the sudden blackness blinding after the daylight. No time to adjust—she stumbled toward the lift, nearly tripping on the steps. She caught herself on the railing.
“Bloody hell—could they not fix the lights? Someone’s going to break their neck,” she muttered.
The lift took ages. Lily tapped her foot impatiently, her mind racing through every worst-case scenario. *”Please, just let everyone be alive…”*
Outside Sophie’s flat, she paused, listening. No screams, no crying—good. She took a steadying breath and rang the bell.
The door opened to reveal Sophie, face blotchy and swollen, eyes vacant. She turned like a ghost and shuffled toward the kitchen. Lily sighed, kicked off her trainers, and followed.
Sophie slumped into a chair, head bowed, hands limp in her lap. Every part of her sagged under the weight of defeat.
“Soph, what happened? You scared me half to death.” Lily rested a hand on her back. “Tell me. I’ve been going mad trying to guess.”
“William left me,” Sophie said, her voice hollow.
“Left you? For someone else?”
A numb nod.
“How? Did he say it himself, or are you assuming?” Lily prodded. She wasn’t surprised. William was handsome—always had women circling. She’d warned Sophie to stay sharp.
“He said he loves someone else. Packed his things and walked out.” Sophie’s voice cracked. “Lily, tell me why? I did everything—cooked, cleaned, raised Ethan, starved myself to stay thin after giving birth. And he still left.”
Lily exhaled sharply. “Christ, you had me thinking someone *died*. He’ll have his fun and come crawling back.” She dropped into the chair beside her.
“You think so?” Sophie’s head jerked up, hope flickering.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Who is she? Young? Pretty?”
“My age. Big, red-haired, cross-eyed.” Sophie shuddered. “Lily, what does he *want*? I’m *better* than her!”
“Stop blaming yourself. It’s hormones, a midlife crisis. He’ll snap out of it.”
Sophie shook her head. A fresh sob wracked her.
“Stop crying—you’ll scare him off for good. Look at you! Puffy, red—hardly irresistible.”
Sophie wailed louder.
“Tears won’t fix this. You think he’ll come back and everything will be perfect? *God*, you’re daft. You’ll resent him. You’ll make his life hell, and Ethan’s too. Speaking of—where is he?”
“At the neighbour’s.”
“Good. He doesn’t need to see this.”
Sophie wiped her face. “I *hate* her.”
“Then stop crying. Look at you—gorgeous, young. You’re *thirty-two*, for Christ’s sake—you’ve got your whole life ahead.”
“I can’t live without him,” Sophie whispered.
Lily scoffed. “Oh, *shut it*. You’re not dying over a man. Got any wine?”
She rummaged in the fridge, pouring two generous glasses. “Drink. All of it. You’ll feel better.”
Sophie downed it like water.
“We were supposed to move,” she whispered. “His company built those new flats—we were *so close*. Now he’ll live there with *her*.”
Lily refilled their glasses. “You’re *not* killing yourself over this. You think William will *mourn* you? No—he’ll strut around like he’s some prize. And Ethan? He’ll *hate* you for leaving him.”
Sophie froze, staring.
“Good. Finally thinking straight.” Lily finished her wine. “Stay with me tonight. I’m not leaving you alone.”
***
Sophie put on a brave face in public. She collected Ethan from nursery, his small hand clutching hers as he studied her red-rimmed eyes. He understood, in his quiet way.
Days passed. William didn’t call.
Her pride finally snapped. She dialled his number.
“William, can you come over? We need to talk… Ethan misses you.”
Her heart leapt when the doorbell rang.
“Daddy!” Ethan bolted past her.
Sophie stepped into the hall. William crouched to hug their son, the sight so familiar it burned.
“Stay for dinner?” she asked.
He straightened. “What did you want to talk about?”
Sophie swallowed. “I can’t do this alone. Ethan *needs* you.”
William sighed. “Sophie, we’ve been through this. I can’t. We’re expecting a baby.”
“A *baby*?” Sophie’s voice rose. “What about *Ethan*?”
“He’s my son. I’ll still see him—unless you *stop* me.”
“And if I do? You’ll fight me in court?”
“Yes.”
“You’re *not* his father—you’re a monster!” Sophie screamed. “You left him for *her*! I hope your child is *sick*—you deserve—”
William recoiled as she lunged, clawing at his arm. “Let *go*!”
“*No!* Come back to me—*please!*”
She stumbled, chair tipping—her grip on him yanking her forward. Her knees hit the floor, but she held on, wild-eyed.
“Sophie, *stop*!”
She clung to his legs, sobbing into his knees.
With a wrench, William shoved her.
A crack. A gasp.
Darkness.
***
She woke to William’s panicked voice, phone pressed to his ear. “Yes—ambulance, *now*—thirty-two, unconscious—”
Ethan was gone.
They found him hours later, shivering on a park bench.
William stayed that night. By morning, Sophie told him to leave.
Months later, he remarried. Their daughter was born healthy.
Ethan took his gifts but never clung to him again.
Sophie stopped waiting. She moved on—beautiful, cold.
She never forgave him.
Who was to blame?
An old question—as old as love, as betrayal.
And just as unanswered.
