Shadows of Betrayal: A Path to New Happiness
Emily often traveled for work. Once a month, she’d spend two or three days at the company’s headquarters in a neighboring city. James was used to her absences and didn’t mind. They worked for different firms, met in the evenings, and spent weekends together—when they could. James had a hobby: hunting. He often went off with his mates into the countryside. Emily never objected, understanding he needed his own space.
They’d been together twenty-four years, trusting each other without question. Their daughter had recently married and moved to another town with her husband. When alone, Emily read books or met friends. Peace and quiet filled their home—she was easy-going, avoided arguments, and nipped conflicts in the bud. James was content.
But there comes a time when some men, as the saying goes, “get the itch.” That time came for James. He fell for a colleague, Veronica—ten years younger, unmarried, lively and outgoing. She’d quickly settled into the office, befriended everyone, and set her sights on James. Of all the men there, he stood out—confident, polished, and, as if by chance, always near her.
Colleagues noticed the budding romance and were stunned—James was known as a devoted family man. Yet here he was, lovestruck like a teenager! They whispered warnings to Veronica about his loving wife, but she merely brushed them off. She was the type who pursued married men, seeing them as easy prey. She’d left her last job after a scandal involving her boss’s wife, who’d given her a “warm” welcome.
James, who’d never once betrayed Emily, lost his head. At forty-seven, he felt at his peak. Never one to hide his feelings, he openly admired Veronica. On weekends, he’d vanish, claiming hunting trips. Emily grew suspicious and once joked, “James, you’re never home on weekends. Found yourself someone, love?”
“Don’t be daft, Em!” he dismissed her. “You know how the lads are.”
For six months, James led a double life. Veronica grew more alluring—he spent increasing time with her, even inviting her home when Emily was away.
Returning from a business trip in high spirits—report submitted, project approved—Emily arrived home a day early. Her silver car glided smoothly down the motorway, music softly playing.
“Not going in tomorrow,” she thought. “It’s Friday—I was supposed to be back then. I’ll grab some wine, spend the evening with James. Before he dashes off to his hunting again.”
Opening the door, she spotted James’s shoes—and a pair of women’s heels. “Maybe our daughter’s here?” But stepping into the living room, she froze. A young woman in a short robe sat on the sofa, while James emerged from the bedroom, buttoning his shirt.
“Em? What—you’re back tomorrow—” he stammered.
“I’m back today,” she replied coldly. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
“Hello, I’m Veronica,” the woman cut in. “We work together. Just stopped by to—”
“Stopped by? Dressed like that?” Emily turned, slammed the door, and fled.
In the car, she sobbed. Her world had shattered. She’d heard stories like this but never imagined it would happen to her. Now, betrayal stared her in the face.
“So much for James!” she thought. “And I trusted him. How long’s this been going on? Mustn’t be the first time, if he’s bringing her home.”
She spent the night at her mother’s. The next morning, she bought a new lock, asked her son-in-law to fit it, packed James’s things, and left them by the door. After a sleepless night weighing her options, she decided on divorce. Knowing James, she didn’t want to hear him out—he could talk his way out of anything.
That evening, she met him at the door as he fumbled with the new lock. She shoved his bag forward and blocked the entrance. “Take your things and go. I don’t want to see you. You know me—I won’t forgive. Flings are one thing, but you brought her into our bed. See you in court.” She shut the door firmly.
James pleaded—”Em, listen, I can explain! I don’t know what came over me!”—but she refused to bend. He waited outside the house, her office, her mother’s, her friend’s—but Emily wouldn’t relent. At the divorce hearing, he tried again, only to meet her icy stare.
With Veronica, things fizzled. James grew irritable; she wasn’t understanding. Soon, she announced she was pregnant. “A baby?” he scoffed. “I’m nearly fifty. I don’t want sleepless nights. I want peace.”
“Say what you like, I’m keeping it,” she snapped. “I want this child. If you don’t, pay support—I’ll manage.”
James ended up raising his son, living with Veronica, who demanded more than he could give. By the boy’s third birthday, he often thought of leaving. His mates told him, “A wife like Emily? You’ll never find another.” He regretted everything.
Five years alone, Emily adjusted. She’d moved past the pain. A friend urged her, “Em, remarry—if only to spite James! Don’t stay single—let’s find you a man. I’ll tell my husband to look around.”
“No one’s needed,” Emily replied. “I’m afraid of being hurt again.”
She wasn’t entirely honest. The loneliness ached, but admitting it felt weak. She decided not to seek someone just to fill the void—that never worked. Better to live for herself and family, even if they were far away.
One night, toothache kept her awake. At the dentist’s the next morning, the waiting room was packed. After an exam, the dentist said, “Wisdom tooth. Wisdom comes with time. Let’s get an X-ray.”
The X-ray room was busy. After the scan, a nurse nodded, “Follow me.” Emily trudged behind. Two dentists worked inside—one young, one older. The older one gestured to the chair.
Studying the X-ray, he frowned. “Wait, this doesn’t make sense. Your teeth are fine.”
Emily exhaled. “They said it’s a wisdom tooth.”
He checked the name. “Your surname?”
“Miller.”
“This says Millerton,” he said.
A voice piped up from the next chair. “That’s me.”
Everyone laughed. The dentist chuckled, “Mixed up the scans—similar names. Good thing we caught it.” He met her eyes warmly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be wiser soon. Come back in two days—seven o’clock.”
Emily told her friend about the mix-up, and they laughed for ages. At the follow-up, the dentist asked, “Everything alright? Any pain?”
“No, all good,” she said.
He studied her, then said suddenly, “I’m Robert. You’re Emily—saw your file. Fancy a coffee sometime? I heard you’re single. I’m glad.”
She blinked, then teased, “Do you ask all your patients out?”
“First time,” he smiled. “When you walked in, I knew—it’s fate. I’ve been alone too long. Maybe life’s saying, ‘Enough tests—be happy now.’”
“Alright,” she said. “I’d like that.”
They lingered over coffee, then met again. Robert had been divorced six years, never actively looking—too busy. At fifty-two, he buried himself in work to avoid the empty house outside London.
One evening, Robert slid a velvet box across the table. “Emily, love, marry me. I’ll cherish you. You won’t regret choosing me.”
She gazed at him tenderly. “Yes, I will. With you, I’ll be safe. We met for a reason—we’ll make each other happy. I’m sure of it.”
