The Shadows of Betrayal: A Path to New Happiness
Margaret often travelled for work. Once a month, she would leave for two or three days to visit the company’s headquarters in a neighbouring town. Thomas had grown used to her absence and never complained. They worked for different firms, met in the evenings, and spent weekends together—when they could. Thomas had his own pastime—hunting. He often disappeared into the countryside with friends. Margaret didn’t object, understanding that every man needed his space.
They had lived together for twenty-four years, trusting one another without question. Their daughter had recently married and moved to another town with her husband. Left alone, Margaret would read or meet with friends. Peace and quiet reigned in their home—she was accommodating, avoided quarrels, and smoothed over conflicts before they could begin. Thomas had no complaints.
But there comes a time in some men’s lives when, as they say, the devil takes hold. That moment came for Thomas. He fell for a colleague, Veronica—ten years younger, unmarried, vivacious and outgoing. She had quickly charmed the office, befriended everyone, and set her sights on Thomas. Among the men there, he stood out—confident, well-dressed, always somehow near her when it mattered.
Their coworkers, noticing the budding affair, were surprised. Thomas had always seemed the perfect family man. Yet here he was, lovestruck as a schoolboy! They whispered warnings to Veronica—*Thomas has a loving wife at home*—but she only brushed them off. Women like her, she believed, had a way with married men. She’d had experience: in her last job, she’d left under a cloud after a scandal with her boss’s wife, who had given her a *warm* reception indeed.
Thomas, who had never betrayed Margaret before, lost all sense. At forty-seven, he felt invincible. Never one to hide his feelings, he openly admired Veronica. Weekends vanished under the excuse of hunting trips. Margaret began to suspect something, and one day, half-joking, she asked, *”Thomas, you’ve been gone rather often lately. Not keeping secrets, are you, dear?”*
*”Don’t be silly, Maggie!”* he shrugged. *”You know how the lads are—always dragging me out.”*
For six months, Thomas lived a double life. Veronica entranced him more by the day. He spent longer hours with her, even inviting her home when Margaret was away. Returning from a business trip one evening, Margaret was in high spirits—her report submitted, her project defended. She’d come home a day early. Her silver car glided smoothly down the motorway, soft music filling the cabin.
*”I’ll take tomorrow off,”* she thought. *”Friday—I wasn’t meant to be back until then. I’ll buy some wine, have a proper evening with Thomas before he vanishes into the woods again.”*
When she opened the door, she saw Thomas’s boots—and a pair of women’s heels. *”Is that Charlotte’s?”* she wondered. But stepping into the living room, she froze. A young woman in a short dressing gown lounged on the sofa, while Thomas emerged from the bedroom, buttoning his shirt.
*”Maggie? What—you were supposed to—”* he stammered.
*”I’m here now,”* she replied coldly. *”What is this? Who is she?”*
*”Good afternoon,”* the woman cut in smoothly. *”I’m Veronica. Thomas and I work together. I just stopped by to discuss—”*
*”In *that* state?”* Margaret turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
In the car, she broke down. Her world had crumbled. She’d heard stories like this—never imagining they could touch *her*. And yet, here she was, staring betrayal in the face.
*”So much for Thomas!”* she thought bitterly. *”And me, foolish enough to trust him. How long has this been going on? Long enough for him to bring her into our home, clearly.”*
She spent the night at her mother’s. By morning, she’d bought a new lock, asked her son-in-law to install it, and packed Thomas’s things into a bag by the door. She’d spent the night weighing her options—divorce was the only answer. Knowing Thomas, she wouldn’t let him talk her out of it. He had a silver tongue when he needed it.
That evening, she met him at the door. As he fumbled with the unfamiliar lock, Margaret blocked his path. *”Take your things and leave. I never want to see you again. You should know me well enough—I don’t forgive. A fling is one thing, but you brought her into our *bedroom*. We’ll meet in court.”* The door shut firmly behind her.
Thomas pleaded: *”Maggie, just listen! I can explain—I don’t know what came over me!”* But she was unmoved. He waited outside the house, the office, her mother’s, her friend’s—Margaret wouldn’t relent. At the divorce hearing, he tried once more to apologise, but her gaze was ice.
With Veronica, the affair fizzled. Thomas grew irritable; she had no patience for it. Soon, she announced she was expecting. *”A child?”* he scoffed. *”I’m nearly fifty—I don’t need sleepless nights. I want peace.”*
*”What I want is a child,”* she snapped. *”If you won’t be a father, you’ll pay for one.”*
So Thomas raised a son, living under Veronica’s ever-growing demands. By the boy’s third birthday, he was desperate to leave. His friends told him, *”A wife like Maggie won’t come twice.”* He regretted everything.
Margaret, five years alone, had grown accustomed to solitude. The pain of betrayal had faded. Her best friend urged her: *”Maggie, remarry—if only to spite Thomas! You can’t stay like this. I’ll have my husband find someone for you.”*
*”No one *needs* me,”* she’d reply. *”I won’t risk that hurt again.”*
She lied. The loneliness ached—but admitting it felt like weakness. She resolved not to seek love out of desperation—no man could fill that void. Better to live for herself and her family, however far away they were.
One night, a toothache kept her awake. By morning, she drove to the dentist. The clinic was busy. The receptionist directed her to a room where, after an examination, the dentist said, *”Wisdom tooth, by the look of it. Wisdom comes in its own time. Let’s get an X-ray.”*
The radiography room was crowded. After the scan, she waited in the corridor. Fifteen minutes later, a nurse beckoned her to follow. Margaret trudged after her, only to find two dentists in the room—one young, one older. The senior one gestured her into the chair.
Frowning at the X-ray, he muttered, *”Right, let’s extract the second and fourth—wait, this makes no sense. There’s nothing wrong here.”*
Margaret exhaled. *”They said my wisdom tooth was coming in.”*
The dentist checked the chart. *”Your surname?”*
*”Miller.”*
*”This one says Millerton,”* he replied.
From the next chair came a voice: *”That’s *me*.”*
Laughter filled the room. The dentist, still chuckling, said, *”Scans got mixed up—similar names. Lucky we caught it!”* His eyes met hers warmly. *”Don’t worry, you’ll be wiser soon. Come back in two nights for a check-up—seven o’clock.”*
Margaret told her friend about the mix-up, and they laughed for ages. When she returned, the dentist asked, *”Everything alright? Any discomfort?”*
*”No, all fine,”* she replied.
He studied her a moment, then said, *”I’m Henry. You—according to your chart—are Margaret. You’re unmarried, I noticed. I’m very glad for that. Would you join me for coffee sometime?”*
Margaret blinked. *”Do you ask all your patients out?”*
*”Never before,”* he smiled. *”But when you walked in, I knew. Fate, I suppose. I’ve been alone too long—six years since my divorce. Maybe it’s time for happiness.”*
*”Alright,”* she said. *”I’d like that.”*
They lingered in the café till closing, then met again and again. Henry had buried himself in work to escape the emptiness of his country house.
One evening, over dinner, he drew out a small velvet box. *”Maggie, my love—marry me. I’ll cherish you all my days. You won’t regret choosing me.”*
She gazed at him softly. *”Yes. With you, I’ll be safe—loved. We were meant to find each other.”*
