**Diary Entry – 22nd March**
My thoughts tangled like a knot in my mind, jealousy and hurt bubbling inside me. Why would they do 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 Mark were meant to be. A decade of happy marriage only confirmed it—fate had woven them together.
She’d just returned early from a business trip. Two days ago, her boss had called her in. “We’ve got issues at the Leeds branch. Only you can handle it,” he’d said, dismissive of her protests. Three days’ work, no more.
Emily had plans—none involving Leeds—but arguing was pointless.
“Mark, I’m off to Leeds. Three days, tops. Make sure Oliver keeps up with his tutor. And for heaven’s sake, feed him properly—no crisps or takeaways. There’s soup and pie in the fridge.”
“Right, sure,” Mark muttered, barely glancing up from his phone.
“That’s it? Not even bothered I’m leaving?”
“You’ll be back in three days. We’ll survive.” He finally looked up, smirking. “Why’d they send you, anyway? Thought you were done with trips?”
“They needed someone experienced. Someone tough.” She’d felt a flicker of pride.
On the train home, excitement warmed her. The flat would be empty—Mark at work, Oliver at school. She’d run a bath, slap on a face mask, maybe even nap. Later, she’d help Oliver with homework properly, for once. Guilt nagged—she’d rushed back to work after maternity leave, leaving him with Aunt Margaret at ten months old.
She hadn’t told Mark she was returning early. A surprise. He’d come home to a hot meal, a doting wife, a tidy house. Bliss.
On the way, she stopped at Tesco for wine and Mark’s favourite chocolate cake. Maybe rekindle some romance. They’d grown distant lately—her buried in work, him glued to his phone.
Then she opened the door.
Strange boots in the hallway. A garish perfume-cloaked coat in the cupboard—sickly sweet, nauseating. Or maybe the nausea came from realisation. No bath. No serene evening. Just betrayal.
She steeled herself. No tears. No weakness. Just cold fury.
Laughter floated from the bedroom. Her bedroom. She scanned the room for a weapon—anything to swing at the pair of them.
“God, how did I not see this?” she whispered. “How could Mark do this?”
The fallen lamp shattered the silence. The bedroom door flew open.
“Alice?” Emily choked out, hysterical laughter bubbling up. “You? Of all people!”
“Emily! I—I thought you were in Leeds.”
“So did he, apparently.” Emily’s voice dripped venom. “Mark! Get out here!”
“Emily, you’ve got it all wrong,” Alice stammered.
“Wrong? Then where is he? Hiding?”
“It’s not Mark,” Alice blurted.
Emily froze. “What?”
“It’s Robert.”
Robert. Mark’s brother sat on the bed, dressed, staring out the window.
The kitchen interrogation was brutal.
“We met at Mark’s birthday last year,” Robert mumbled. “Then bumped into each other after a row with Sarah. She’s always on at me about money… I just snapped.”
Emily glared at Alice. “And you? Divorced, free as a bird—no shame, eh?”
“Why here?” Emily hissed. “Hotels exist!”
“Small town. Everyone knows me.” Robert shrugged. “This was the first time, I swear.”
“Spare me the details.” Emily’s disgust was palpable. “And Alice—we’re done.”
Once they’d slunk out, Emily scrubbed every surface, thoughts racing. How had she and Mark drifted so far? They needed to talk—really talk. No more criticism. More listening.
Then she dialled Mark. “Darling, I’m home early—and we’ve had burglars!”
“What?!” His panic was delicious.
“Don’t worry, I’ve locked them in. Police are on their way.”
“Emily, no! I’ll handle it—I’m coming!”
She hung up, smirking.
When Mark burst in, wild-eyed, she was calm. “Robert says hello. Never do this again. Our home is our castle. Understood?”
“Understood.” He sagged with relief.
“Good. Tonight’s a date night. And you’re telling me your dreams—honestly. No phones.”
“Em, you’re amazing.” He leaned in. “You won’t tell Sarah?”
“Not my circus.” She grinned. “Now behave. Oliver’s home.”
**Lesson learned:** Distance creeps in silently. Guard your castle—but fill it with warmth, not walls.
