It felt like a dagger to the heart…
Emily was on the phone when Liam peeked into the office. Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Emily, signalling that the call was important and that they weren’t to be disturbed. Liam’s head vanished behind the closing door.
Ten minutes later, Emily ended the call and put her mobile down.
“Liam dropped by earlier,” Charlotte said.
“For me? Maybe he was looking for you?” Emily snapped.
“I’m married. Haven’t you noticed how he looks at you?”
“How?” Emily lifted her gaze from the monitor.
“Like he’s interested,” Charlotte replied with a smirk.
Of course Emily had noticed. She wasn’t blind. Yes, he was handsome—exactly her type. If only he weren’t so much younger…
Work piled up, and Emily skipped lunch with Charlotte. Liam came into the office and set a cup of coffee on her desk.
“Take a break. Busy?” he asked.
“As always,” Emily smiled gratefully and took a sip.
“Fancy catching a film later?”
“Sorry, I’ve got my little girl.” She drank again, avoiding his eyes.
“I know. Could your mum watch her for the evening?”
Emily looked up. Finally, he’d made a move instead of just lingering in glances. Handsome, smiling. If he were a few years older, she wouldn’t have hesitated.
She looked far younger than her age, but the gap between them was still obvious. After her painful divorce, Emily had avoided men for years—too cautious, too afraid of another mistake. Time, as they say, dulls pain and caution. She felt ready to love again. But Liam? Really?
“Well? He came by, didn’t he?” Charlotte asked when she returned from lunch.
“Who?” Emily feigned ignorance.
“Why are you dodging him? He’s a good bloke. If I weren’t married—”
“Don’t be daft.” Emily cut her off. “I’m old enough to be his—”
“So what? You don’t look your age. And a bit of male attention does any woman good, especially a single one. I’ve seen how you light up when he’s around. Admit it.”
Emily said nothing.
“You’ve been alone for years. You said yourself you’re ready. While you wait for someone ‘suitable,’ some pretty thing will snap him up. Just enjoy it. For your health, if nothing else.”
Emily stayed silent. Charlotte had a point. Maybe one film wouldn’t hurt.
She rang her mum, dropped off Sophie after work, and ignored her mother’s scrutinising look.
The evening was wonderful. It had been ages since she’d been to the cinema, let alone concerts or other outings. It ended in bed. She wasn’t against it—why wait? She was free. So was he. For her health, then.
“Well? How was it?” Charlotte asked the next day. “Don’t play dumb—you’re glowing.”
Emily didn’t answer, making it clear she wouldn’t discuss her private life. But secrets never lasted long. Liam lingered in the office, throwing glances that made her pulse race and thoughts scatter. Charlotte noticed, of course, smirking knowingly.
The affair snowballed. They met daily—always at hers. Liam still lived with his mum. At first, he came after Sophie was asleep and left before she woke. Sometimes he stayed. The little girl never questioned why Mummy’s friend sat drinking coffee in the morning. She liked it, actually—Mummy never raised her voice when he was around.
When Emily married, her husband often mentioned selling both flats to buy a bigger one. She’d resisted. Hers was a gift from her father before he died. Small, but life was unpredictable. Now, it was useful.
With Liam in her life, Emily started thinking about a bigger place. Sophie was growing up, understanding more. But after the divorce, Emily had bought a second-hand car and still hadn’t paid off the loan.
“Ever thought about a mortgage?” Liam asked one day.
“Yes, but I’m still paying for the car.”
The conversation unsettled her. How long would this last? Years flew by—a woman’s prime was short. Growing old together was one thing. But Liam was just hitting his stride, while she… well, how long before the gap between them showed? Cosmetics, procedures, surgery—all costly.
And still, youth slipped away. She’d seen films where women ruined themselves chasing it, only to be left anyway. If she took out a mortgage and he left, she’d spend the rest of her life scraping by.
Yet every day, she liked him more. When girls smiled at him, jealousy twisted inside her like a thorn. How could she not fall? Her heart was free and hungry. She was still young, after all.
She stalled, waited.
Then Liam went away for two days—a “work trip.” With nothing urgent to distract her, loneliness gnawed. At lunch, she stepped out for air. The day was still, dry, but snow was forecast.
After one stop, the cold drove her back. She ducked into a café for coffee, shrugged off her coat—and there he was. Across from him sat a young blonde. They leaned close, foreheads almost touching, hands clasped. His eyes were full of her.
No mistaking it—that look wasn’t for a friend. He’d said he was away. A dull ache spread through Emily’s chest, hot and suffocating. She rushed out before he saw her.
She’d known this would happen—just not so soon. She’d thought they’d part lightly. But she hadn’t planned on falling in love. What now? A scene? Throwing him out? Revenge? The pain was unbearable.
That evening, she snapped at Sophie for fidgeting. The girl burst into tears. Emily hugged her tight and wept too—rage, hurt, disappointment. Would she ever have a proper family? A love that lasted?
She tucked Sophie in but lay awake. If Liam came, lied that he’d returned early, rushed to her… she’d forgive him. Maybe she’d misseen. They’d been sideways to her. Should she have confronted him? No—it was him. She’d ironed that shirt herself. If she’d faced him, she’d have screamed.
Dawn came before she slept. She woke groggy, head throbbing. Sophie threw a tantrum, refusing to get dressed. Emily snapped, the girl cried, and chaos reigned.
Liam would return “from his trip” tonight. Better Sophie didn’t witness the fallout. Emily called her mum.
After work, she paced, waiting. The doorbell rang. She let him in.
“Hi. Where’s Sophie? At your mum’s? Good—I missed you.” He moved to kiss her. She stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Headache. Probably a cold. Didn’t want Sophie catching it. You got back today?” She searched his face.
“Yeah, an hour ago. Came straight here.” He buried his face in her hair.
She caught a whisper of foreign perfume.
“I saw you today. With a blonde. Twenty, max.” She pushed him away. “How long have you lied? I’m not your wife—if you’d just said you’d met someone, I’d have let you go. But you sneaked around. Get out. I’ll bring your things to work.”
“Em—” He reached for her. She flinched.
“Please, just go.” She fled to the bathroom, turned on the tap to drown his voice. When she emerged, he was gone.
The empty flat loomed. She wouldn’t sob alone. Not again. She rang Charlotte.
“Meet me. I’m a mess. Please. Not here.”
They met at a pub. Wine helped. Emily spilled everything. The drink, or the confession, eased the weight.
“I didn’t think I’d react like this—jealous, heartbroken. I know it’ll pass, but right now…”
Charlotte pushed a full glass her way. Emily drained it. In public, she held back tears. Wine numbed the sting. Charlotte listened, offering no advice. What was there to say?
The room spun when she stood. Charlotte hauled her outside.
“I need to get Sophie. Call a cab.”
“Like this? Fetch her tomorrow. Ring your mum.”
“It’s late. My husband’ll kill me.” Charlotte flagged down a cab, shoved Emily inside.
“Take her home. I’ve got your plate. Anything happens, I’ll know.”
“Thought you were in a hurry. Drunk, are we?” The driver shook his head.
“Bad night. She’s had a shock.” Charlotte paid, slammed the door.
Emily woke stiff, head splitting. A man’s voice made her jump.
“Who are you? Why am I in a car?”
“Cab. Your friend asked me to take you home. You passed out. Couldn’t leave you on the street.”
She fumbled for her purse.
“Don’t bother. She paid. Phone’s dead—Their eyes met in the dim light of the cab, and for the first time in years, Emily felt something unfamiliar—not the sharp sting of betrayal, but the quiet warmth of a chance.
