Once Upon A Fairy Tale Existence
That morning, Alice awoke with the peculiar sensation that something momentous was about to happen. The sun poured through the white lace curtains, birds chattered merrily outside, and her husband, James, kissed her on the cheek as he left for work, murmuring, Youre simply the best, you know. Everything was just as it always was. Perfect.
That was the word Alice used to measure her life: perfect. A perfect husbanda successful entrepreneur, attentive, and kind. Perfect childrena son off at university and a daughter in sixth form, both clever and independent, never any trouble. The perfect flat in central London, the perfect weekend cottage in the Cotswolds, the perfect car. Even Alice herself was, by all accounts, perfect; always elegant, toned, her forty-five-year-old features belying a woman of thirty-five.
Her friends envied her. Alice, youre charmedyour lifes an absolute fairytale. Alice smiled modestly and thought, yes, I am lucky. Though truthfully, luck had little to do with it. Shed always known exactly what was expected: how to look, how to converse, how to manage the home, how to support her husband, how to raise the children. She had poured her entire being into sustaining this ideal.
James, her husband, was the axis her world spun around. Theyd met in their final year at Oxforda dashing, clever man from a respectable family. Every girl wanted him, but he chose her. Alice could still remember the heady delirium of their early love.
A year later, they married. His business blossomed, her own career soaredshe eventually became chief accountant at a notable firmand then came the children. Everything falling sweetly into place, like a perfectly conducted symphony.
Sometimes, Alice caught glimpses of oddness. James would drift off, gazing thoughtfully through the window, barely hearing her voice. During work trips, he’d call less often than before. Sometimes shed catch him staring at her with a strange, distant sorrow, his eyes elsewhere.
Are you alright? shed ask.
Nothing, hed reply, Just tired.
She dismissed it. Who isnt tired? Business is taxing on anyone.
***
On a Tuesday, Alice swung by Jamess office to sign some paperworkhed asked her as a favour. The new receptionist seemed flustered, stammering, Mr. Campbell is with someone, if youd like to wait? Alice waved her off. Its fine. Im family.
She pushed open the door without knocking. James sat at his desk, staring intently at his computer screen, which displayed a photograph of a womanyoung, beautiful, long blond hair and sad eyes. Just for a moment, Alice saw, and her stomach twisted: really? Viewing another womans photo with the new receptionist right outside?
James, Im here about the forms, she said, even and cool.
He jumped, closed the window hastily, but Alice had seen his anxious movement. Something deep inside her tensed.
Yes, yes, of course. He shuffled things, pulling open a drawer. Everythings here. Just sign and leave it with me. Ill collect it later.
Who was that? Alices tone was perfectly calmthe sort reserved for women who sense catastrophe on the horizon.
Who? He donned an air of confusion, but his eyes flickered betraying him. Oh, just a colleague. Work stuff.
Didnt realise work involved full-page photographs.
Alice, dont start, he said with a wince. Its nothing.
She nodded, collected the forms, and left. But doubt, thorny and persistent, was already planted.
***
Alice never intended to investigate, but her hands moved of their own accord. That night, as James showered, she skimmed through his phone. She found the hidden thread, messages locked in a secret app. But she knew the passwordtheir daughters birthday. James never did change his codes.
I miss you, wrote the woman.
Me too. Soon, James replied.
Hows she? Any inkling?
No. Its fine.
Alice read on, disbelieving. Five years. For five years, hed had this secret affair. Five years of living a double-life. While she cooked Sunday roasts, ironed shirts, greeted him with a smile at office doshe was with someone else.
She scrolled back. Photographs, words thick with longing, hints at secret meetings. Then she landed upon a line that made her heart stop:
You know youre my only one. Since university. If it hadnt been for circumstances, wed never have parted. Alice is a good woman, but life just turned out this way.
Alice read it again. And again.
Only one. Since university. Circumstances.
So shed never been the beloved. She was simply the convenient option. The one nearby when true love slipped away.
That evening, she waited for him in the kitchen, watching the sky stain pink over Londons rooftops. How do you go on? How do you explain to the children? What do you do with years that suddenly ring hollow?
James entered. One look at her face and he knew.
You know, dont you, he said softlynot asking.
Yes, Alice replied. Who is she?
He sat at the table, his hands hiding his face.
Alice, Im sorry. This is not how you were meant to find out.
How was I meant to? Was I supposed to spend forever in the dark, living alongside you while you pined for her?
I dont think of her all the time, he insisted feebly.
Dont lie. I read it. Youre my only one. Since university. Tell me the truth. I want to know.
And so, hurting, James confessed.
Her name was Victoria. Theyd met at Oxford, first year. Fell hopelessly in love. Planned to wed. But her family looked down on Jamesno money, no connectionsand whisked Victoria away to Bath, steering her into a more suitable marriage. She wrote, she wept, but she couldnt fight.
James waited two years. Then met Alicebeautiful, clever, good family. Why not, he thought. Life marches on.
They wed. They had children. The business succeededa defiant answer to Victorias family, a way to prove his worth to them, to himself. Victoria drifted, always, in his mind.
Five years ago, we accidentally crossed paths, he said quietly. Shes divorced now, no kids, lives alone. The spark it happened again. I tried to resist.
Did you resist with me? Alice asked. For nearly twenty years, did you fight with yourself over me?
I respect you, he began. Youre an incredible wife, a wonderful mother. Youve given me everything.
Everything except love, she said flatly. You never loved me, James. You never let me in. You wanted someone who fit. You saved your love for someone else all along.
He was silent. Because it was the truth.
***
Alice packed quickly. Shed always believedif youre leaving, then just go. No drama, no theatrical scenes, no lets at least try. She respected herself too much to play the pawn in someone elses tragic romance.
She broke the news to the children calmly, without breakdowns. Her son wanted to confront his father but Alice stopped him: Dont, Tom. Its our concern, not yours. Stay out of it.
Her daughter wept. Mum, how will you manage alone?
Ive got myself, Alice replied. And thats not nothing.
She moved into a small flat in a different part of the city.
The first months were hell. Nights stretched sleepless before her; by day, she worked, smiled, ran errands, but in the silent hours her mind reeled, replaying years of I love yous, kisses and shared holidays. She realised it had all been a lie. Beautiful, comforting, warmbut a lie nonetheless.
The worst part wasnt the betrayal. The hardest thing was facing the truth: she, so sharp and strong and competent, had noticed nothing. Or hadnt allowed herself to notice. It was easier to remain in her perfect bubble.
***
A year later, the wounds had started to close. Alice bumped into a mutual friend.
You know, James is remarried. That old flame of hisVictoria. Heard they were at it since university, parents split them up. Can you believe? Straight out of a film.
Alice smiled the smile of all the former perfect wives. Yes, I can imagine. Very romantic.
At home, she sat quietly in her kitchen and weptfor the first time in a year.
Not for pain; the pain was dull now. For the betrayal of it all. For finally seeing that shed beenjust scenery. A convenient background for a man always waiting for someone else.
Shed borne him children. Made a home. Supported his business, cared for his parents, hosted his friends, created a world. Yet all the while, he cherished another. And the bitter truthshe couldnt change that. You cant force love. Youll never be the main character if you were second-choice from the start.
***
Two more years went by.
Alice learned to live alone. To her surprise, she relished it. No one expected supper precisely at seven. No one tutted if she worked late. No one stared sadly out the window, thoughts elsewhere. The children were grown, her son married, her daughter now at university. Theyd become not just her children, but her friends.
Sometimes, girlfriends would ask, What about men, Alice? Youre still young and lovely. Why not try again? Alice would shrug, Not ready to give up my freedom just yet.
In truth, the wound was deeper. She dreaded being someones safe option again, feared that behind anothers sweet words would be emptiness, a heart still belonging elsewhere.
Better alone than with just anyone, shed say. Best to be my own leading lady.
One evening, sorting through old things, Alice found her wedding album. She sat for ages, flipping pages, seeing her youthful eyes, his easy smile. Back then, shed believed happiness would last forever.
And now?
Now she closed the album and slipped it to the furthest back of the shelf. She didnt throw it outmemories are memories. But neither did she want to see it.
Sunshine spilled through the window. Next door, the neighbours were playing music as they renovated. Life carried on.
Alice went to the mirror, studied herselftrim, polished, clear-eyed, and quietly self-assured.
Well done, she told her reflection. You survived.
And it was true. She had made it. Not because shed found someone new, but because she had found herself.
The self she had almost lost in the pursuit of perfection. The woman capable of being alone, but never lonely. The one who knows her own worth.
And that, indeed, is priceless.
For the record, James sometimes calls. Asks how shes doing. Wishes her happy birthday. Alice is polite, brief, and firm.
She feels no resentment. Thats long faded. All thats left is the calm knowledge that she was a good wife. He simply wasnt her man. They had both discovered this too late.
Victoria Victoria now lives in Alices old house with Alices former husband. Alices heard theyre content. She feels oddly gladat least someones story ended happily, even if it wasnt hers.
Later, Alice will head out to yoga, then meet a friend at a café. Tonight, dinner with her son and his wifetheyve invited her to a new restaurant.
There is richness in her days. She has filled them herself.
Sometimes, curling up in bed, Alice wonders: what if things had been different? What if hed truly loved her? If theyd grown old together, watched grandchildren play, driven out to their country cottage
Then she rolls over and drifts to sleep. Theres no point dwelling on what never was. She survived what was, and she came through whole.
Not because she conquered anyone else. But because she never lost herself.
