Everything transformed in a single, dreamlike instant, as if the world had shifted beneath our feet. That day shimmered like a memory behind a foggy window we were celebrating my father-in-laws birthday, just my husband, our daughter, and myself in our modest London flat. Time unraveled gently amidst laughter, as the old man, cheerful as ever, spun tales from his boyhood on the Yorkshire moors, his wit rippling like eccentric birdsong. After dinner, my daughter and I decided to walk him home along the quiet streets, the London lamplight making the evening feel like something out of a storybook. My husband, hobbled by the ache in his knee and made drowsy from too much ale, stayed behind. I was certain hed be asleep by the time we returned, and I was right we found him slumped at the dining table, softly snoring before an open laptop.
My daughter retreated to her room, lost in her novels. I turned towards the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea, but something strange tugged me when I glanced at his computer screen. My husband had left himself signed into his social site perhaps intending to erase a message, then drifting off before he could. Pulled by a peculiar curiosity, I drifted closer. Thats when I saw it I love you. Those words, as clear as a bell through thick morning mist, addressed to an old acquaintance. My knees felt like wax I collapsed onto the sofa, the world dissolving around me.
My fathers warnings echoed, spectral and inevitable. Hed always doubted our marriage, claimed Id end up hurt because of this man. Twenty-eight years Id spent proving him wrong, weaving a life together through illnesses and redundancies I nursed my husband through his spell of cancer, comforted him when the company made him retire early, watched him grieve for the work he lost. Hed always told me how much he cherished my devotion. Now, in this hazy nighttime realm, it seemed a lie.
I forced myself up and stumbled to my daughter. She sat in bed, lost in a paperback, but when she saw me she asked, Mum, whats happened? Only then did I realise my face was streaked with tears. I tried to explain. She sprang up and in a whirl of movement, slipped out to her father. I shrank into myself in dread. She deleted his messages to the other woman, but not before she snapped photos of all the correspondence. Reading the honeyed messages exchanged behind my back felt surreal, as if I were eavesdropping on strangers. It hadnt lasted more than a month, I guessed likely started when he found that new job. My mind was spinning, senseless as a carousel.
Already, my daughter was composing messages to this other woman If you truly love him, then by all means, take him. She made sure to take a screenshot. Within moments, the woman disappeared from the chat. My daughter forwarded my husband the images, asking him to act like a manleave. Then she returned and folded me in a fierce embrace, whispering that I was strong, that wed get through this together, that Id never be alone while she was with me. There was nothing left but to wait for my husband to stir from his slumber.
When the mobiles ring shattered the silence, we both jumped. Of course, it was her. I braced myself. Unexpectedly, he answered, as though he thought the coast was still clear. The conversation was brief, just flittering words, and then I heard him rousing, moving about, gathering his things. He paused by the door without looking at me. I stared out at the lamplight-glittered street instead, clutching my daughter as she mustered a dazzling, almost mischievous goodbye wave.
I only saw him one more time, when he drifted back through the flat like a shadow to collect a few scattered belongings. I still cant quite believe how a family can come apart so suddenly, as if time unspooled and severed itself. How do you trust a man again, after that? Nearly three decades of shared days and whispered promises, swept away like fog at sunrise. All that beauty, all those words, tangled and gone and at the end of it all, only divorce remains.
