**Time to Right a Wrong**
Faith didn’t want to tell her mother what had happened at the lake. When she got home, she tried to slip quietly into her room, but her mum heard the rustling in the hallway and stepped out of the kitchen.
“What’s wrong? You look dreadful.” Her mother pressed her hands to her chest, studying her daughter with worry.
“It’s nothing. Just swam too much.” Faith brushed past her and shut herself in her bedroom.
The next day, Anthony came by to check on her.
“Why would she be unwell?” her mother asked, puzzled.
“Well, she nearly drowned yesterday in the lake,” Anthony replied, oblivious.
“Don’t exaggerate, I just swallowed some water,” Faith shot him a sharp look.
“I… came to invite you to the cinema.” Anthony caught on quickly and changed the subject.
“Faith, of course, go. Why sit indoors? Lovely weather,” her mother said, flashing Anthony an ingratiating smile.
The thing was, Anthony was the son of a well-known and rather wealthy man. His attention gave Faith’s mother hope for her daughter’s bright and comfortable future.
From then on, Anthony visited often, always with an invitation—swimming, a motorbike ride, a café. Faith wasn’t madly in love with him, but his attention flattered her. Any girl would’ve jumped at the chance to be courted by him.
That evening, her mother scolded her for playing hard to get.
“From a well-off family. You’ll never want for anything. And the way he looks at you—so dependable. He stood by you when things got tough. I’d trust him with my only daughter. If he proposes, don’t be a fool and throw it away.”
“But I don’t love him, Mum,” Faith protested weakly.
“Don’t lie to me—no girl would turn down a man like him. I married for passion, and look where that got me.”
When Anthony proposed, Faith said yes. Her mother’s words had done their work. Amid the wedding frenzy, Faith often felt like an actress in a play—none of it real. Meanwhile, her mother was over the moon.
Faith quickly realised Anthony’s mother and older sister despised her. She wondered why they’d even allowed the marriage. Probably because Anthony was his mother’s golden boy—she wouldn’t risk losing him.
They didn’t live in the sprawling family estate but in a flat Anthony inherited from his grandfather, much to Faith’s relief. His mother still intimidated her.
Years passed, but Faith couldn’t conceive. Her mother-in-law blamed her outright, dragging her to the best doctors, who gave grim diagnoses. Faith felt crushed with guilt.
Anthony never openly reproached her, but she saw his disappointment. He grew distant, burying himself in his late father’s firm—left to him and his sister. His mother’s home became his escape, and Faith was glad for the distance. She could only imagine the vile things being said about her.
She suspected Anthony was unfaithful, but without proof, she stayed silent. He was always discreet, protecting the family name.
Faith once tried returning to her mother, who dismissed her fears as nonsense. “A handsome man like him? Women will flirt. It’s harmless. Once you have a child, things will settle.” So Faith went back.
Five years passed in this charade—an immaculate, hollow marriage.
Just as Faith resolved to demand a divorce, Anthony’s mother died. Turned out she’d been seriously ill for ages—no one had bothered to tell her.
Anthony spent days arranging the funeral, coming home only to sleep.
***
Faith woke but lingered in bed, listening to the shower. She dozed off again.
“Why aren’t you up?” Anthony strode in, the scent of shower gel and aftershave trailing behind him.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go. Your mother never liked me. Thought I wasn’t good enough. She was right.” Faith sat up, meeting his eyes.
“Right about what?” He tossed his robe aside, rifling through the wardrobe.
She’d long grown immune to his charms.
“That I don’t belong in your world. No one will even notice if I’m not there.”
“The whole family’s coming. You’re part of it. Get dressed—we’ll be late.” He buttoned his shirt, avoiding her gaze.
“I’ll never be part of your family. You know it. Can you even be late to a funeral?” She sighed but got up.
The scent of fresh coffee hit her as she stepped out of the bathroom.
“Drink up and get ready.” He pushed a steaming mug toward her, glancing pointedly at his expensive watch.
In the car, Anthony played classical music—fitting Faith’s sombre mood. She pretended to doze, staring blankly out the window.
When they reached the grand house, several luxury cars were already parked outside.
*Just get through today. One less enemy now.*
“You go ahead. I’ll just freshen up.” She rummaged for her compact.
“Don’t take long.” Anthony strode off.
She knew she’d briefly be under scrutiny, then forgotten. Still, she dabbed powder on, tucking a handkerchief in her sleeve—for appearances, not tears.
Outside, she spotted an old woman from down the street—Theresa. Faith hadn’t seen her in years. A car crash had claimed her husband and son long ago, leaving her odd, almost ghostly.
“Hello,” Faith greeted as Theresa neared.
The woman stopped, peering at her.
“I’m Faith, Anthony’s wife—”
“I’m not blind nor daft. Here for the funeral?” Theresa nodded toward the house.
Faith nodded, then stiffened as a curtain twitched upstairs—someone watching.
“Married the wrong man, girl. Fix the mistake, and you’ll have children.” The words froze Faith mid-step.
“What mistake? What do you mean?”
But Theresa walked off without a glance.
Inside, Anthony was deep in conversation. No one acknowledged Faith.
***
At the cemetery, she lingered apart, studying relatives she’d never met. Leaving unnoticed wasn’t an option—Anthony would berate her later.
When the service ended, a mountain of wreaths towered over the grave. The procession trailed toward the cars.
Anthony led his grief-stricken sister away. Faith lagged behind.
At the gates, he ushered his sister into the car, then scanned for Faith. She waved him off—*go ahead.*
Squeezed into a distant relative’s car, she asked to stop at a chemist.
“Don’t wait—it’s a headache. I’ll walk.” She hurried out before they could argue.
Alone, she eyed the bus stop. But then she realised—her handbag was still in Anthony’s car. No money, no escape.
“Faith?”
She startled. A car had pulled up, a man leaning out—*Daniel Harlow.*
He stepped out, smiling. The quiet, overlooked boy from their old crowd now handsome, confident.
“Need a lift? Home or… back to the funeral?”
“Home.” She gave her address.
“Family never accepted you, did they?”
“How’d you guess?”
“You were never one of them. I was mad for you back then. Crushed when you married him.”
“I can’t have children,” she blurted.
“You? Who told you that? Anthony?” A smirk flickered.
“What?”
“*He’s* the infertile one. Childhood illness. His mother covered it up—easier to blame you.”
Faith reeled.
“Sorry. Bad timing.”
“No.” She remembered Theresa’s words. *This was the lie.*
Daniel hesitated. “One more thing. Anthony and *Maggie*—they’ve been carrying on for years. His mother kept him from divorcing. Family reputation and all.”
Faith sat stunned.
“Look, I shouldn’t have—”
“Wait here.” She rushed inside, throwing clothes into a case.
*Not to Mum’s. Anywhere but here.*
Daniel waited by the car.
“Where to?”
She smiled for the first time that day. Freedom surged through her.
“Somewhere quiet. Then I’ll decide.”
Laughing, she rolled down the window, stretching her hand into the wind.
“Go on! I’m free!”
Daniel grinned, driving off with his long-lost love.
