“Just keep things running,” David’s voice was matter-of-fact. He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Your job is to make the home comfortable. I provide for the family, you manage the house. Fair’s fair.”
I froze, a plate clutched in my hand. After twenty-three years of marriage, I’d grown used to many things—but this?
Across from me, my dearest friend, Emily, let out a dry laugh into her wineglass. “What’s so wrong with that? Plenty of women would kill to be in your place, Liv.”
My gaze darted to our son. Alex sat with his head bowed, his phone buzzing softly.
“Dave,” I set the plate down. “Did it ever occur to you I might be more than just a housekeeper?”
“Here we go,” he rolled his eyes. “We settled this when you left your job.”
“Or when you convinced me it was best for everyone?”
Something in my tone made him finally look up. Our eyes met, and I caught a flicker of fear in his. Did he really think I hadn’t noticed? The glances, the casual touches?
Alex suddenly pushed back his chair. “Can I go? I’ve got coding coursework.”
“Of course, love,” I answered, never taking my eyes off my husband.
The slam of the front door echoed through the house. Emily slipped away. David wordlessly stacked the dishes.
“Leave them. Sit down.”
“What’s the point of this?” He hovered by the sink.
“The point is I’m not a dishwasher. Remember who I was before you decided the kids ‘needed their mother at home’?”
“Not this again.”
“No. *You* decided. Like always.”
His phone chimed softly. A message.
“Aren’t you going to answer that? From Emily?”
“Enough. You’re being irrational.”
“Irrational? Let’s talk about rationality. Tell me about this *business project* with my best friend.”
The slap cracked through the air. Not him hitting me—me striking him.
“Mum?” Alex’s voice from the hallway startled us both. “Can I go to Tom’s?”
“Of course, love.”
At three in the morning, the slam of the front door startled me awake. Alex?
“Where have you been?” I stood frozen in the kitchen doorway.
He flinched, shoving something into his pocket.
“Alex, what’s going on?”
“I… I dropped out of uni. Two months ago. I don’t want to code. That’s *his* dream, not mine.”
“And the money? Who do you owe?”
“I borrowed. Ten grand. Photography course. They’re threatening to tell Dad.”
“We’ll sort it tomorrow,” I said.
I never got to finish. The lock turned. David.
“Can’t sleep?” His voice was rough, whiskey clinging to his breath.
“Dad, I can explain—” Alex stepped between us.
“Explain what? That my son’s a liar? Emily told me. About uni.”
I froze.
“*Emily*?”
“Yeah, imagine. At least someone in this house respects me enough to be honest.”
“Enough,” I said, turning to David.
“‘Enough’? This is how you raised him?” He turned on me. “Speaking of lies—how’s Emily? Tired of your little *business dinners* yet?”
“Shut up,” David hissed.
“Or what? You’ll hit me? In front of Alex?”
Alex moved toward the door. “I’m leaving. You two… you deserve each other.”
The door slammed.
“Happy now?” David’s voice shook.
Then—the knock at the door.
Emily stood there, mascara smudged, hair wild.
“We need to talk.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” David snapped.
“Same as always,” she breezed past him, dropping into a chair. “Ruining lives. Funny, Liv—he promised *me* he’d leave you too. Said I was special. But then I found out about Sarah from accounting. And Lily from the gym.”
“Shut your mouth!” David slammed his fist on the table.
“Oh no. Truth time. About Alex dropping out… I told his girlfriend. Convinced her he’d leave her. She started blackmailing him.”
“Why?” I finally managed.
“Dunno. Maybe I wanted you all to feel as hollow as I do.”
She moved to leave but paused at the door.
“You know the funniest part? I really did think you were my best friend.”
The door clicked shut.
“Liv…” David stepped toward me.
“Don’t. Just go.”
“Let’s talk.”
“About what? It’s four in the morning. Our son’s gone. Your mistress just confessed. And I’m… tired of *keeping things running*. Leave the keys on the sideboard.”
He nodded, slowly pulling out the keyring, setting it down. Hesitated at the door.
“Forgive me.”
The door closed. Alone at last. My phone buzzed. A message from Alex: *Mum, I’m fine. Don’t look for me. Just let go.*
I typed back: *Stay safe. Love you.*
Then I opened my contacts. Emily. Delete?
My finger hovered. In the end, she’d done what I hadn’t the courage to—shattered the pretty lie. I pressed delete. And for the first time in years, I smiled.
