The key clicked in the lock, and Emily, trying not to make a sound, slipped into the flat. The hallway was dark, only a sliver of light creeping from the kitchen. Her parents were still up, even though it was past midnight. Lately, this had become the norm—long hushed conversations behind closed doors, sometimes escalating into muffled arguments.
Kicking off her heels, Emily dropped her work bag by the console table and tiptoed down the corridor to her room. She wasn’t in the mood to explain why she was late, though she had a good reason—the project deadline was looming, and the numbers wouldn’t balance.
Through the wall, she could hear the muffled voices.
“No, James, I can’t keep doing this,” her mum said quietly, but the irritation was clear. “You promised last month.”
“Love, now’s not the time,” her dad replied, sounding defensive, as usual.
Emily sighed. Lately, her parents were always arguing about something but acted as if everything was fine in her presence. Sure, they were in their fifties, she was long grown up, but it still stung to think something was off between them.
She washed up, changed, and crawled under the covers, but sleep wouldn’t come. The same thoughts kept spiraling—her older brother, Tom, lived in another city and rarely visited. If her parents divorced, who’d stay with whom? Who’d get the flat? And why were they hiding their problems?
The voices next door didn’t stop. Emily reached for her nightstand, fumbling for her headphones—drowning out their secrets with music seemed like the best option. Her hand brushed her phone, knocking it onto the carpet. As she picked it up, her thumb accidentally opened the voice recorder app. Her finger hovered over the screen.
What if… she recorded them? Just to find out what was really going on, instead of guessing. If she asked outright, they’d brush her off—same as always.
A pang of guilt hit her. Eavesdropping was wrong, let alone recording them. But then again, they were *her* parents, her family. Didn’t she have the right to know if something serious was happening?
Biting her lip, she pressed record, placed the phone closer to the wall, and pulled the duvet over her head.
The next morning, rushing to get ready for work, she noticed both Mum and Dad looked exhausted. Over breakfast, they barely spoke, exchanging only polite, hollow remarks.
“You were back late,” Mum commented, pouring tea. “Work again?”
“Yeah, finishing up the project,” Emily nodded. “Why were you two up?”
“Oh, just a film,” Mum said airily, not meeting her eyes.
Dad hid behind his newspaper, pretending to be engrossed in an article.
“Don’t wait up for dinner,” he muttered, still reading. “Meeting clients, might run late.”
Mum pressed her lips together but said nothing.
On the tube to work, Emily fought the urge to listen to last night’s recording. Too many people around, too much guilt. She’d wait till she got home.
The day dragged. Finally, back in the flat, she found a note—Mum had gone to her friend Claire’s and wouldn’t be back till late. Dad, true to his word, was still at work. Perfect.
Curling up on the sofa with a blanket, she pressed play.
At first, it was just broken phrases, then clearer.
“…what do we tell Emily?” Dad sounded tense.
“I don’t know,” Mum sighed. “What if she doesn’t understand? After all these years.”
“But she deserves to know.”
“Of course, but how do we explain why we kept it from her?”
Emily froze. What were they hiding?
“Remember how it started?” Dad asked, a smile in his voice.
“How could I forget?” Mum laughed softly. “I thought it’d just be a phase. Turned into a lifetime.”
“And what a life,” Dad chuckled. “Though it wasn’t always easy.”
“Especially after Emily came along.”
Her chest tightened. *Especially*? Was she unwanted? Or was it something else?
“But we managed,” Dad continued. “And she turned out brilliant.”
“She did,” Mum’s voice swelled with pride, and Emily relaxed slightly. “But now we have to decide what’s next. I’m tired of the double life, James.”
*Double life?* Her stomach dropped. Was one of them having an affair? Or were *both*? The thought made her nauseous.
“Love, let’s at least wait till Tom’s here. We’ll talk properly, all of us.”
“Fine,” Mum conceded. “But no more delays after that. Either we change things, or… I don’t know anymore.”
The recording cut off—they’d either left the kitchen or her phone had stopped.
Emily sat there, stunned. What was happening to her family? Why were they waiting for Tom? What was this *double life*?
A thousand questions, no answers. Should she record them again? No, that was too much. She’d call Tom first—he was older, he might know. Or Aunt Carol, Mum’s sister—she was always straight with her.
Decision made: tomorrow, she’d ring Tom. This weekend, she’d visit Aunt Carol.
Tom didn’t pick up all day, finally calling back in the evening.
“Em! Sorry, left my phone in the van. What’s up?” His voice was cheerful, but something off.
“When are you coming down?” she asked bluntly.
“This weekend, why?”
“Parents are acting weird. They’re waiting for you.”
“Weird how?” A beat of silence.
“Whispering at night, pretending everything’s fine around me. Talking about some *double life*.”
A pause.
“Tom?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he cleared his throat. “Look, don’t stress. People have secrets, even parents.”
“So you *know*?”
“I—” He hesitated. “Got an idea. But if they’re not telling you, they’re not ready. Wait till Saturday, yeah? We’ll talk then.”
“Fine,” she muttered. “What about Aunt Carol? Should I see her?”
“No,” Tom answered too quickly. “Keep her out of it. This stays between us.”
The call left her more unsettled. So Tom *did* know. And he wanted Aunt Carol kept out—why? Maybe it *was* cheating. Some scandal they didn’t want spreading.
Later, Mum came home from Claire’s in high spirits, cheeks pink, eyes bright.
“Guess what? Claire’s selling her flat! Moving to the countryside. Says she’s sick of the city.”
Emily nodded absently.
“Would *you* want to live in the country?” she blurted.
Mum stilled. “…I don’t know. Sometimes, yes. The quiet, the clean air, a garden.”
“And Dad?”
“What about Dad?”
“Would *he* want to?”
“Ask him yourself,” Mum’s tone turned guarded. “He’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
Miraculously, Dad came home early. Emily was making tea when she heard the front door.
“Tea, Dad?” she called.
“Please,” he replied, appearing in the kitchen, loosening his tie. “Where’s Mum?”
“Watching a film. How was work?”
“Fine,” he sank into a chair. “Client agreed to our terms, so we’re good to go.”
“That’s great,” she set down his mug. “So… Tom said you and Mum have something to tell me?”
Dad stiffened. “What?”
“He let it slip,” she lied. “Said you’d explain when he’s here this weekend.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, we need to talk. But let’s wait for Tom, alright? It’s… better that way.”
“Is it bad? Are you two splitting up?”
“What? No!” He looked genuinely shocked. “Why would you think that?”
“You’re always whispering, arguing. Mum mentioned a *double life*.”
Confusion, then realisation, then—*relief*?—flashed across his face.
“Em, you’ve got it all wrong,” he sighed. “Nobody’s splitting up. Quite the opposite—” He cut himself off. “Just wait till the weekend, yeah? Promise, it’s nothing bad.”
“You’re *sure*?”
“Positive,” he squeezed her hand. “Now drink your tea.”
That night, sleep wouldn’t come. If not divorce, then what? Illness? Money trouble? Moving? The last thought twisted her gut—she’d just settled into her job, made friends, loved London.
Nothing added up. Dad’s *”quite the opposite”*—opposite of divorce was… renewing vows? A second honeymoon?
A knock at her door.
“Still awake?” Mum peered in.
“No. You?”
“Just thinking,” Mum sat on her bed. “What were you and Dad talking about?”
“Nothing important,” Emily shrugged. “Work.As she stepped into the countryside cottage the next day, surrounded by the hum of bees and the scent of lavender, Emily finally understood—her parents hadn’t been hiding a secret life, they’d been building a second home, and now, they were inviting her into it.
