**The Prank**
In the dim glow of a small stage, guests danced merrily, led by the man of the hour—the sixty-five-year-old department head, William. *”Goodness, what a man…”* the women murmured in scattered harmony with the soloist of the modest ensemble.
Jessica and her husband, weary from laughter, wine, and a feast fit for kings, remained seated at the wreckage of their table. At the far end, two colleagues argued over some trifle while a third dozed, head cradled in his folded arms.
Leaning close, Jessica whispered in her husband’s ear,
*”Shall we slip away? Everyone’s too deep in their cups to notice. This noise is splitting my head.”* For emphasis, she pressed her fingertips to her temples.
William cast a sidelong glance around the room.
*”You’re right. Nothing left for us here. Let’s go.”*
They slipped out of the restaurant unnoticed.
*”Oh, that’s better!”* Jessica inhaled the crisp night air in deep, grateful gulps.
*”Taxi?”* William asked.
*”No, let’s walk. Clear our heads.”* She looped her arm through his, and they strolled slowly down the darkened streets.
*”You won’t tire in those heels?”*
*”Then you’ll carry me, like you did twenty years ago. Remember? My new shoes rubbed blisters when we walked home from the cinema—no car yet, and the last bus long gone. You carried me all the way.”* Jessica sighed.
William squeezed her arm against his side—his silent confirmation that he remembered.
*”Oh, how young and foolish we were. Twenty years gone in a blink. Feels like only yesterday we married, and I was expecting Alice… we were so happy then.”* She sighed again.
*”A promotion’s coming—better pay, better prospects. Soon Alice will give us a grandchild. And in autumn, we’ll celebrate my milestone. We’re healthy. Isn’t that reason enough to be happy?”* William asked.
Before Jessica could answer, they reached their flat.
She washed up first, scrubbing away the evening’s glamour. Emerging from the bathroom in a loose cotton robe, hair still damp, William couldn’t help but compare her to his mistress, Elizabeth—her smooth skin, firm youthfulness, those beckoning eyes, waves of thick hair… *What time steals from a woman. Would Elizabeth fade just as Jessica has? No, she’d stay as she is—forever twenty years younger. If only she were here now…*
The memory of Elizabeth’s passion stoked his hunger so fiercely he stepped under an icy shower just to cool down.
Morning found him retrieving a crisply ironed shirt, faintly scented with lavender, from the wardrobe. Jessica always matched his ties and hung them ready. The kitchen beckoned with the rich aroma of fresh coffee.
*”I thought I’d pop down to the cottage today. The apples must be falling—I’ll gather them, stew some, bake a pie,”* she said, setting his coffee before him.
*”Why not wait till Saturday? We’ll drive together.”* William chewed his toast absentmindedly.
*”Three more days? They’ll rot. Besides, I’d like to check on the place.”*
*”Suit yourself.”* He drained his cup and set it down.
*”I’ll stay the night. Too late to come back, and the last bus leaves too early. I’ve left your supper in the fridge.”* She spoke to his back as he stood to leave.
William froze, turning. *”You’re really staying overnight?”*
*”Yes. Why? Did you have plans for me?”* Jessica’s sad smile cut deeper than she knew.
*”No. Just… be careful.”* He fled to the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him.
Inside the car, he turned the key, then dialed Elizabeth before pulling away.
*”Hello. Did I wake you? Darling, wonderful news—Jessica’s off to the cottage tonight. We have the whole evening.”* His voice was honeyed temptation.
*”Understood, love,”* Elizabeth trilled back, smacking a kiss into the receiver.
*”Clever girl. I’ll see you tonight. Already missing you.”* He pocketed the phone, turning the radio up as he drove off.
Everything was falling into place. William’s spirits soared. *Time to come clean with Jessica, draw a line under this. Elizabeth’s been nagging—when will we be together properly?*
After work, he stopped at a boutique for an expensive Bordeaux and fruit. Peering up at their flat’s darkened windows, he smirked—Jessica had left. He took the stairs two at a time, heart hammering in protest. *God, I’m out of shape. Should join a gym.*
He dumped the bags in the kitchen doorway—and froze.
Silhouetted against the window stood Jessica.
*”You… didn’t go?”* His voice nearly cracked with disappointment. *Must warn Elizabeth—she’ll arrive any minute.* *”Why’s the light off?”*
*”Surprise!”* chirped a voice—not Jessica’s.
William’s mouth hung open. The bag nearly slipped from his fingers. He flicked the switch.
Elizabeth stood before him.
She’d pinned her hair up just as Jessica did—why he’d mistaken her in the dark. A sharp exhale escaped him as he set the bag down.
*”Well? Good surprise?”* Elizabeth laughed, delighted.
*”Christ. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought it was Jessica. How did you—how are you here? Where’d you get a key?”*
*”Aren’t you pleased?”* She wrapped her arms around him, and the world fell away.
Morning light roused him. The other side of the bed was empty—until the clink of china drifted from the kitchen, coffee’s fragrance following. William grinned, springing up naked.
Toweling his hair dry, he ambled out—only to lock eyes with Jessica.
His wife.
*”Good morning, dear.”*
William gaped, clutching the towel to his waist. *”You—you’re back?”*
*”Why the modesty? Twenty years, I’ve seen it all.”* She turned back to the stove. *”Get dressed. Breakfast’s ready.”*
He scrambled to the bedroom—no trace of Elizabeth. *A dream? No, she was here. What the hell’s happening?*
Returning, he scanned the kitchen—the wine bottle he’d left was gone.
Jessica poured coffee, set out toast. Mid-bite, a voice behind him:
*”Up already, darling?”*
William choked.
Elizabeth strolled in, sniffed appreciatively. *”How sweet of you to make coffee.”* She fetched a cup as if she lived there.
Jessica stood unmoved, blind to her.
*”You’re pale,”* Elizabeth cooed.
*”Feeling ill?”* Jessica mirrored.
*”What is this?!”* William shoved his chair back.
*”Poor love, he’s delirious.”* Elizabeth patted Jessica’s shoulder.
*”Work calls, dear,”* Jessica said, smiling first at him, then—impossibly—at Elizabeth.
*”I see. You’re pranking me. When did you two—how?”*
*”Yesterday. After your call about Jessica’s ‘country escape,’ I came to see her. You called her old, dull, careless. Imagine my shock—lovely, sharp, fit. No wonder you stalled.”*
Jessica had nearly thrown her out, Elizabeth explained, until they’d hatched this scheme. *”Worked a treat, didn’t it?”* They exchanged grins like schoolgirls.
*”What now?”* William sank onto the chair’s edge.
*”Normally, I’d ask which of us you’d choose,”* Elizabeth mused. *”But meeting your wife? I bow out.”*
She wouldn’t take his calls, she warned. He’d buy her nothing.
*”Chaos is yours to sort.”* A hip-swaying exit, then the door’s slam.
Jessica collapsed into a chair.
*”Jess, I—”*
*”Not now. Go.”* She turned to the window.
In the car, William marvelled at their flawless act—his terror when Elizabeth appeared, the sweat, the dread.
Why had Elizabeth walked away? Youth, fire—but Jessica… how little he’d known his own wife. He’d expected screams, shattered plates. Instead—this.
At work, he blundered through tasks, colleagues whispering. Elizabeth’s phone rang unanswered. *Gone, then.* A pity, but not irreplaceable.
Come evening, he called Jessica. *”Don’t hang up. We must talk. I’ve ended it with Elizabeth. I’m—”*
The line died.
Hope flickered—she’d heard him. Rushing home, he found the flat empty. The cottage? Locked tight.
*”LostHe stood on the doorstep, keys cold in his hand, wondering if forgiveness was ever truly within reach—or if some wounds cut too deep to ever heal.
