Emma sat in the kitchen with her best friend, barely holding back tears. Her hands trembled, her thoughts tangled, and her voice kept breaking.
“Wait… He just packed his things and left?” gasped Natalie, her oldest friend.
“Yes,” Emma croaked. “After twenty years together. Just threw a bag together, said, ‘I’ve fallen for someone else,’ and slammed the door.”
“Maybe you misunderstood? Could it just be a midlife crisis?” Natalie ventured hesitantly.
“Nat, listen to yourself! What misunderstanding? He left. No tears, no drama, no attempt to explain. Like our twenty years meant nothing.”
Emma buried her face in her hands. Fresh tears glistened. She had never felt so hollow, so betrayed.
“Do the kids know?” Natalie asked carefully.
“No… Sophie and Jack are at summer camp. I put them on the train three days ago. They’ll be back in two weeks… And I have no idea how to tell them. How?!”
“Maybe it’s better they’re not here now. You’ll have time… to at least pull yourself together.”
“Pull myself together? After this? He was my whole life,” Emma whispered, gripping her head. “How did I not see this coming? How?”
Silence hung between them until Natalie suddenly brightened.
“Let’s get back at him. The way only women can.”
“What?” Emma looked up, startled. “How?”
“Easy. We go on a date tonight. With a stranger. You’re gorgeous, put-together, brilliant. You’ve got a house, a career, amazing kids—you’re a catch. Let’s prove to him you’re not just his ex-wife but the woman men dream about.”
“I don’t know… I still love him.”
“And does he love you? If he did, would he walk out for some fling?” Natalie squeezed her hand. “Come on. What’s to lose? Just a bit of fun.”
Doubt gnawed at Emma, but eventually, she nodded. An hour later, they were scrolling through dating apps for a blind date candidate. That evening, Natalie dropped her at the restaurant, winked, and left her.
Emma walked in, heart racing. Table 13. Someone was already waiting.
“Sorry I’m late—traffic. Oliver?”
“Emma?” The man stood abruptly. “No way! What are the odds?”
It was her former colleague, someone she’d worked alongside for five years. They’d lost touch when he left the job, but there had always been a spark.
“Fate’s funny,” Emma smiled, sitting down.
Conversation flowed effortlessly—shared memories, mutual friends, silly office mishaps. Laughter, warmth, ease—like no time had passed. Then Oliver asked:
“So, why did you agree to this date?”
Emma froze. At first, she considered lying. But something in his tone made her honest.
“My husband left me. Yesterday. Packed up and walked out. Said he’d met someone else. I… don’t know how to move on.”
Oliver looked down, then gently took her*”You’re not alone, Em,” he said softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.*
