It was all rather awkward.
*”You’re his wife?”*
*”In every sense. At least legally—I could even show you the marriage certificate if I’d brought it. Sorry,”* the woman replied, resting a hand on her swollen stomach.
***
*”Sweetheart, I’ll be away for work next week, and the signal’s terrible there, so don’t lose touch,”* said Michael Thomson.
*”Don’t worry about the cat. I’ll drop by, feed him, clean the litter,”* muttered Emily, not looking up from her phone.
*”About the cat…”* Michael hesitated. *”You really don’t need to keep rushing over after work just for him. Mrs. Jenkins from upstairs—you know, the neighbor? She’ll pop in now and then to check on Whiskers.”*
*”You’ve been acting odd lately, Dad,”* Emily laughed. *”Mrs. Jenkins must be a saint. Feeds the cat, nips to the shop for milk, picks up your prescriptions. Some luck you’ve got.”*
*”Yeah… lucky.”*
A sharp pang of guilt shot through Michael. His brow furrowed as he fought to keep his expression neutral. *She doesn’t suspect a thing. Just teasing me,* he thought.
…Michael and Emily’s mother had divorced seven years ago. It had been civil—no shouting, no blame. Just two people who’d fallen out of love. They’d spoken to Emily first, making sure she understood, then filed for divorce with clear consciences. Emily had taken it in stride, with one condition—family holidays would still be spent together. It had worked.
*”So, I’m your neighbor now?”* Sarah smirked.
*”I couldn’t think of anything else…”* Michael looked away.
*”Calling me your wife would’ve been far too complicated, obviously.”*
*”Sarah, don’t be like that.”*
*”I’m a grown woman, Mike. But how long are we going to keep this charade up?”*
*”I don’t know, honestly! What if she doesn’t take it well? When she was little, she used to have this fear—one of us just walking out. Kept asking if we’d ever leave her. Feels like I’m betraying her.”*
*”Listen, I’m not interfering with your relationship with Emily. But in two months, you’ll have two daughters. You’ll have to face it. I’m not forcing you to choose, God forbid, but how do you hide a newborn?”*
*”We’ll figure it out!”* Michael said, though he had no idea how.
He’d met Sarah not long after the divorce. Knew straight away she was the one. But admitting it to his family? Impossible. He worried Emily would pull away, that his ex-wife would resent him and make seeing Emily harder.
At first, he’d been self-conscious—Sarah was nearly a decade younger. Then came the secret wedding. And now, the pregnancy. With the due date nearing, the truth would explode sooner or later. *I’ll find the right moment. Then I’ll tell her,* he reassured himself.
He’d gone to great lengths to hide his new life from Emily—meeting her in cafés, avoiding his own flat. And Emily, like any sharp young adult, teased him endlessly about his *”mysterious neighbor.”*
That morning, when Michael returned from his shift, Emily decided to surprise him with a visit. But no one answered the door. Or his phone—not on the first call, not on the tenth. Frantic, she stepped outside. She couldn’t have been mistaken—he’d texted he’d landed at Heathrow, was on his way home, would call later. But he wasn’t there. *He’s a grown man. Probably running errands,* she told herself.
*”They took Michael to the hospital,”* an unfamiliar voice said.
*”What? When? Where?”* Emily spun around.
A woman leaned out from a ground-floor window. *”Saw him come home with his suitcase—must’ve been from his trip. Half an hour later, an ambulance arrived. Sounded like they took him to cardiology. Didn’t look too bad—walked out himself. Thank God, not on a stretcher! So not intensive care. Recognized you straight off—you’re his girl, always waiting for taxis outside.”*
*”How long ago?”*
*”About an hour.”*
Emily barely heard the rest. Her hands shook. Where was he? What had happened? *Cardiology? But he’s never had heart trouble!*
*”Call the hospital. They’ll tell you where he is,”* the neighbor suggested.
Emily dialled with trembling fingers. Minutes later, an operator directed her to the right hospital. She hailed a cab, fighting panic the whole way. Still no answer from Michael.
*”They said my father was brought here!”* Emily pleaded at reception.
*”If he’s been admitted, I’ll check. How long ago?”*
*”I don’t know—half an hour? An hour? Please help.”*
*”Name and date of birth?”*
*”Michael Thomson, 12th March 1973.”*
*”Wait here.”* The receptionist made a call, then returned. *”Cardiology ward. No visitors—quarantine restrictions. If you’ve brought anything, a nurse can collect it.”*
*”Thank you!”*
Emily rushed outside, searching for the main entrance. *If they said he might come out, it can’t be serious, right?*
In her daze, she barely registered reaching the ward. A nurse frowned at her. *”Visiting hours are posted. We’re under quarantine!”*
*”He just got admitted! He’s not answering! I don’t even know if he has his things!”* Emily’s voice cracked.
A hand touched her shoulder. She whirled around—expecting security, but instead, a pregnant woman stood there.
*”Emily, hello,”* Sarah said softly.
*”Do I know you?”*
*”Not exactly. I know you quite well, but to you, I’m just *the neighbor* who feeds the cat and picks up prescriptions.”*
*”What? Are you with my dad? Did he call you?”*
*”No, the hospital did.”*
*”…Why you?”*
*”Because I’m his wife.”*
*”You’re his what?”*
*”Literally. Legally. I’ve got the marriage certificate to prove it—just didn’t bring it.”* She instinctively shielded her stomach. *”Let’s step outside. I’ll explain. He’s fine—I brought his things.”*
Once outside, Sarah hesitated, choosing her words.
*”How long? Why didn’t he say anything? And especially about—”* Emily gestured at Sarah’s bump.
*”This isn’t how I wanted to meet you. But as they say, *Man plans, God laughs.* Your dad kept waiting for the *right moment.* Turns out, life had other ideas.”*
*”But why keep it secret? It’s mad!”*
*”Not mad. He was terrified you’d hate him.”*
*”That’s ridiculous! I’ve been worried he was lonely! And now—a wife *and* a baby? I’m thrilled!”*
*”…You’re not upset?”*
*”Are you joking? Honestly, it’s childish. No wonder his heart’s acting up—living a double life! When can I see him?”*
*”Emily—may I call you that?”* At Emily’s nod, she continued, *”Quarantine rules. I barely got in. If they allow it, visiting hours start tomorrow. No outside food—hospital diet. I’ve brought his clothes. They suspect a mild heart attack, but he’s stable. Resting.”*
Sarah studied Emily’s lost expression—the same hollow look everyone wears when a loved one’s hospitalized.
*”Since we’ve met like this… why not come home? We can talk properly. Plot revenge on Mike—nothing too harsh.”* She grinned.
*”I feel awkward, honestly…”*
*”It’ll be *more* awkward if the baby arrives and doesn’t recognize her aunt! Come on.”* Sarah linked arms with her. *”I’ve got a feeling we’ll get along famously.”*
**Life often forces truth upon us—not when we’re ready, but when we’ve waited too long. Honesty, however daunting, is lighter than the weight of secrecy.**
