Long ago, in a quiet corner of London, Emma watched her husband, Thomas, with narrowed eyes as he pulled on his shoes.
“Youre going to see her again, arent you?”
Thomas sighed, tightening his laces. “To see the children, Emma. The children, not her. Must we keep having this conversation?”
Emma pressed her lips together, the words she wanted to say lodged like a stone in her throat.
“You knew about them before we married,” Thomas continued, shrugging on his coat. “You said you understood. Whats changed? These interrogations every time?”
Emma clenched her fists, but Thomas didnt wait for a reply. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone.
It took her a moment to move, her legs heavy as lead. She sank onto the sofa in the parlour and turned on some mindless telly, letting the chatter drown out her thoughts.
They had been together three years, married for two. Yes, she had known from the startThomass divorce, his two children, a boy and a girl. Hed told her on their third date, and she had smiled, assuring him it didnt matter. That she understood.
Now those words felt foolish.
She pressed a hand to her eyes, fighting back tears. The weight on her chest was unbearable.
Twice a week like clockworkTuesday and SaturdayThomas left for his ex-wifes house. “To see the children,” he said. Yet he stayed for supper, lingered with his former wife, Sarah. Emma told herself she trusted him, but a gnawing dread whispered otherwise.
When he was gone, she drowned in self-reproach. Why couldnt she speak up? Why did she let his promises silence her? Her fingers trembled as she texted her best friend, Charlotte.
*Hes with her again.*
Her phone buzzedCharlotte calling.
“Emma, what are you doing?” Charlotte cut straight to the point. “How much longer will you put up with this? Hes cheating. Its obvious.”
“No, Char, you dont”
“I do. He spends half the night at his exs. You cant honestly believe theyre just playing with the kids.”
Emma dragged a hand down her face. She knew Charlotte was right, but admitting it meant admitting her marriage was a farce.
“He says theres nothing between them,” she whispered. “That its only for the children.”
“Oh, Emma,” Charlotte sighed. “Wake up. Decent men dont spend evenings with their exes. They take the kids out, then bring them back. Yours sits at her table, eats her roast, and probably holds her hand when no ones looking.”
“Stop it,” Emma hissed.
“Fine. But mark my wordsyoull regret this. And when it happens, dont say I didnt warn you.”
The call ended. Emma stared at the ceiling, the canned laughter from the telly grating against her silence.
Thomas returned near midnight. She heard him undress in the hall, then the creak of the bathroom door. When he slid into bed, the scent of another womans perfumesweet, cloyingclung to him.
She didnt ask why he was late. But he spoke unprompted, settling under the covers.
“Sorry about the time. My daughter needed help with a school project. We made a hedgehog out of pinecones. Quite funny, really.”
Emma nodded in the dark, though he couldnt see.
And so it went, month after month. Tuesday. Saturday. Departure. Return. The scent of strangers perfume. Excuses.
Then Thomas changed. He grew sullen, withdrawn, spending evenings scowling at his phone. Emma pressed him, but he brushed her off, retreating into silence.
Weeks later, he announced, “Were going on a double date Friday.”
Emma blinked. “With who?”
“Sarah and her new man.”
Relief washed over her. Sarah had someone else. Thomas hadnt been unfaithful. Her fears had been for nothing.
She smiled, throwing her arms around his neck. “Of course. Lets go.”
Friday came swiftly. Emma bought a new dresspale blue, fittedwanting to look her best, to prove she was the right choice.
They met at a cosy café in Kensington, all warm wood and soft lamplight. Sarah was already there with a tall, athletic man in his fortiesDaniel.
“Hello,” Sarah said, rising. “This is Daniel.”
She was striking, elegant, poised. Daniel shook Thomass hand, and they took their seats.
Emmas optimism faded quickly.
The evening was a disaster.
Thomas spent it trying to outdo Daniel, interrupting, boasting of how well he knew Sarah.
Daniel suggested pepperoni pizza. Thomas cut in, “Sarah doesnt like spice.”
“I know,” Daniel said evenly. “This is for us. Well order something else for her.”
But Thomas wouldnt relent.
“Remember our trip to Brighton, Sarah?” he said, ignoring Daniel. “When the children found that starfish? Thought it was a toy.”
Sarahs smile was tight. “That was years ago, Thomas.”
Still, he pressed onrecounting their shared past, their childrens milestones, nights spent soothing a colicky baby.
Emma sat in silence, clutching her glass. Each word was a blow. She saw Sarahs discomfort, her attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere. But Thomas was oblivious.
And then Emma understood.
He hadnt let go.
She was the spare. The placeholder.
Her phone ranga bank reminderbut she seized the chance. “Im sorry, I have to go. Family emergency.”
No one stopped her. Thomas didnt even turn as she left.
At home, she dragged out a suitcase and began packing.
Thomas returned an hour later, scowling. He froze at the sight of her luggage.
“Whats this?”
Emma met his gaze, dry-eyed. “Im leaving.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I finally see the truth. You still love her. Or maybe you just cant let go. Either way, I wont be your second choice.”
Thomas said nothing.
“I love you,” she continued, gripping the suitcase handle. “But that love will fade. At least Ill keep my self-respect.”
She stepped out. Thomas didnt follow, didnt beg her to stay.
In the cab to her parents, Emma watched the city lights blur past, thinking only one thing:
At last, she was free.
