Jealousy and resentment bubbled inside her, twisting her thoughts into knots. Why were they doing this to her? Hadn’t she loved her husband? Hadn’t she been a good wife and mother to their son?
But what happened next defied all reason.
Emily had always believed she and James were meant to be. Their ten years of marriage had been happy—or so she’d thought.
Today, she was returning early from a business trip, one she hadn’t wanted to take. Two days ago, her boss had called her in, insisting only she could handle the issues at the branch office.
“It’s three days’ work, no more. Pack your things, Emily, and don’t even think of making excuses. You leave tomorrow,” he’d told her, brushing off her reluctance.
She’d had plans—cosy weekends with her family, a break from the grind. But arguing with the boss was useless. Even reminding him that only junior staff usually travelled these days would’ve fallen on deaf ears. She was past that stage of her career, well into her thirties, craving stability.
“James, I have to go away for work. Just three days. Make sure Oliver does his tutoring—he’s been skipping lately. And don’t let him live off crisps and biscuits. There’s soup and proper meals in the fridge.”
“Fine, I’ll handle it,” James muttered, barely glancing up from his phone.
“That’s it?” Emily blinked. “You’re not even bothered I’m leaving?”
“You’ll be back in three days. We’ll manage.” Finally, he looked up and smirked. “Though I don’t get why they’re sending you. Thought you were done with all that.”
“They needed someone experienced. The boss said so himself. Someone strict, with backbone.” She couldn’t hide her pride.
In that miserable, grey town, she’d pushed through her work, desperate to come home early. Just one extra day for herself—a bath, a face mask, maybe even a nap. Oliver would be at school, James at work. Blissful solitude.
The train rattled towards London, her spirits lifting. She imagined the empty flat, the quiet. She’d make it special—cook dinner, help Oliver with homework. Lately, work had swallowed her whole. Even maternity leave had been cut short—back to the office when Oliver was barely ten months old, left with her aunt.
She hadn’t told James she was returning early. Let it be a surprise. He’d come home to a warm meal, homework done, his wife waiting. Perfect.
Lost in memories of their whirlwind romance, she stopped at a shop, buying a bottle of white wine and James’s favourite cake. They needed this—lately, they’d been strangers. Her buried in work, him glued to his phone, no words left between them.
The flat door swung open. At first, she didn’t notice anything amiss—until the light flicked on.
A pair of unfamiliar boots sat in the hallway.
Her stomach dropped.
Then she saw the coat—sleek, expensive, reeking of sickly-sweet perfume. The scent turned her stomach—or maybe it was the realisation of what awaited her.
No bath. No quiet evening. No family.
Because betrayal wasn’t something she could forgive.
She steeled herself. She wouldn’t crumble, not in front of him, not in front of the stranger who’d dared invade her home.
Laughter floated from the bedroom—her bedroom. Her fingers twitched, itching to grab something, anything, to swing at them both.
*God, how did I miss this?*
She took a shaky breath. If she lost control now, she’d regret it.
The fallen lamp shattered the silence.
The bedroom door flew open—
And there stood—
“Charlotte?” Emily’s voice cracked. “*You?!*”
The laugh that tore from her was raw, hysterical. Of course. That nauseating perfume. Her old friend—her husband’s lover.
“Emily—” Charlotte clutched the bedsheet, paling. “I thought you were away—”
“And he didn*t expect me back so soon?” Emily’s gaze darted to the hidden figure behind the door. “James, come out! No point hiding now!”
“Emily, you’ve got this all wrong—” Charlotte babbled.
“Let him say that!” Emily snapped. “Come on, James! Time to face the music!”
Charlotte swallowed. “It’s—it’s not James.”
Emily froze.
For one wild second, she let herself hope. Maybe her marriage was still intact. Maybe Oliver wouldn’t cry himself to sleep over divorce.
“Who, then?” The whisper barely left her lips.
“Robert,” Charlotte admitted, eyes downcast.
Emily shoved past her, bursting into the room.
There sat Robert—James’s brother—dressed, staring guiltily out the window.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Her voice shook. “Oliver could’ve walked in on this!”
They sat at the kitchen table later, the air thick with tension. Emily demanded answers. James would get his reckoning later. But first, she needed to understand how this had happened.
“We met at James’s birthday last year,” Robert mumbled. “Then ran into each other in town after a row with my wife. She said I wasn’t ambitious enough. I wanted to hurt her back.”
Emily shot Charlotte a withering look. “And you? A single mum—this is what you do?”
Robert sighed. “I’m not the saint you thought I was.”
“And my flat? There are hotels, for God’s sake!”
“Too many people know me. I work in council. We thought here was safest.”
Emily rubbed her temples. “Just go. And Charlotte? We’re done.”
Once they’d left, she scrubbed the flat raw, her mind racing.
She called James, voice trembling with fake panic.
“Darling, I’m home early—and there are burglars in our flat!”
“*What?!*” His panic was instant.
“I locked them in! Called the police—they’re on their way!”
“No! Cancel them! I’ll handle it!”
“Oh no, they must answer for this!” She let the smile creep into her voice.
He arrived in record time, breathless, only to find her calm, smirking.
“Robert says hello. But if you ever pull this again, you’ll be moving in with him. Understood?”
James exhaled heavily. “Understood.”
“We’re having a romantic dinner tonight.”
“Really?”
“Really. And after, you’ll tell me what you really want. No lies. And I’ll do the same.”
“Emily, you’re amazing.”
“Just don’t make me regret it.”
As he kissed her, she thought—*Thank God he was at work today.*
