A Gift That Cost Me My Marriage

The Gift That Cost Me My Marriage

Emily fumbled in her dressing gown pocket, her fingers closing around a small velvet box. Her heart pounded violently, loud enough, she imagined, to echo through the entire flat. Beyond the wall, the monotonous hum of the telly droned on—Harry was watching the evening news, as he had every night for twenty-seven years of their marriage.

“Em, fancy a cuppa?” he called from the lounge.

“Just a sec,” she replied, still clutching the box. “Almost done.”

She stood by the kitchen window, staring at the children in the courtyard kicking a football between parked cars. An ordinary weekday scene, yet today it felt strange, as though she were seeing it for the last time.

The box warmed in her palm. Inside lay a pair of gold cufflinks with tiny diamonds—a gift she’d been saving for, scrimping on creams and medicines for three months, determined to surprise Harry, to show him how much he meant.

But yesterday changed everything.

“You coming or what?” Harry called impatiently. “The show’s started.”

Emily inhaled deeply and stepped into the lounge. Her husband lounged in his favourite armchair, wearing a stretched-out jumper and joggers. Two mugs of tea sat on the coffee table alongside an unfolded newspaper.

“Hey, remember Lucy Cooper from our year at school?” Harry asked, eyes fixed on the screen.

Emily froze, teacup in hand. Lucy was the very woman she’d thought about all night.

“Vaguely,” she answered carefully. “Why?”

“Saw her today by the shops. Said she’s just divorced. Husband left her for some younger woman. Can you believe it? Thirty years together.”

Emily set her cup down. Her hands trembled.

“What’s she doing now?”

“Living in a bedsit, cleaning jobs here and there. Poor thing. She was a laugh back then.”

Harry shook his head and flipped channels. Adverts flickered across the screen.

Emily stayed silent. She couldn’t tell him she’d witnessed that meeting herself—how she’d stood between the supermarket aisles, unseen, hearing every word, watching Harry embrace Lucy, their murmured plan to meet tomorrow evening.

“Em, you’re quiet tonight,” Harry finally glanced at her. “Feeling alright?”

“Just tired. Busy day at work.”

“Right. Early night, then.”

He turned back to the telly. Emily stood and retreated to the kitchen, pretending to tidy up. The box in her pocket felt like a stone.

She remembered spotting those cufflinks in the jeweller’s window three months ago—how she’d lingered, imagining Harry’s delight. He’d always admired nice things, though he rarely indulged. Family first, he’d say.

_Family._ What a joke.

Emily took out the box and opened it. The cufflinks glinted under the kitchen light. Beautiful. Expensive. The kind Harry would never buy himself.

“Love, popping to the shop,” Harry called from the hall. “No bread left.”

“Alright,” she answered.

The door clicked shut. Emily peered out the window just in time to see him stride toward the bus stop—not the corner shop, but the one where he and Lucy had arranged to meet.

She shut the box and wandered to the bedroom. Photos littered the dresser—their wedding, their son James’s birth, their first holiday in Cornwall. Happy faces, embraces, smiles. Had it all been a lie?

Emily picked up their wedding photo—Harry in his suit, her in lace and a veil. Bright-eyed, hopeful, their whole lives ahead. They’d been twenty-four.

“Mum, you home?” James’s voice rang from the front door before his keys jingled in the lock. “It’s me!”

Emily stuffed the box into the drawer and hurried to let him in. James stood on the step, groceries in hand.

“Jamie, didn’t expect you!” She hugged him tight.

“Thought I’d drop by. Where’s Dad?”

“Just nipped out. Be back soon.”

James set the kettle on. “Mum, you look pale. Everything okay?”

“Work’s been mad.”

“Yeah? Oh—met this bloke at work, Tom. Great guy, single. Fancy coming round Saturday? Show you the new flat.”

Emily nodded, though half his words slipped past her. The same questions looped in her mind—how long had this affair lasted? Did Harry love Lucy? Was he leaving?

“Mum? You listening?” James waved a hand before her face.

“Course. The flat, you said.”

“Nah, asked if you’d thought about getting a dog. You always wanted one. Now you’ve got the time.”

“A dog? Why?”

“Company. You and Dad rattling round here alone.”

_Alone._ Right on cue.

“Jamie… tell me honestly.” She sat opposite him. “Are you happy with Emma?”

James blinked. “What kind of question is that? She’s brilliant.”

“And if she cheated on you?”

“Mum!” He nearly spat out his tea. “Emma wouldn’t—where’s this coming from?”

Emily backed down. “Nothing. Just something on telly.”

“Dunno. Suppose I’d leave. Couldn’t stay with someone who betrayed me.”

_Betrayed._ The word lingered.

They talked another hour before Harry returned, swinging a loaf of bread with a grin.

“Jamie! Good to see you.” He clapped his son’s shoulder. “All right?”

“Yeah. Work’s busy.”

“Ah. Ran into Lucy Cooper today—remember her? Just divorced. Bloke left her.”

Emily watched Harry closely. No guilt, no hesitation. As if he’d truly bumped into an old classmate.

“Don’t recall her,” James said. “So?”

“Sad, is all. She’s skint now.”

“Her problem, Dad. Not yours.”

Harry nodded, flicked on the telly. James left soon after.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, pulling on his coat. “You’ve been off.”

“Fine, love. Drive safe.”

The flat settled into silence—Harry watching a film, Emily pretending to read, the words blurring.

Next morning, Harry kissed her cheek, wished her a good day, same as always.

At work, Emily struggled. Colleagues asked if she was ill, but she brushed them off.

That evening, she cooked his favourite—roast with all the trimmings. Lit candles.

Harry eyed the table. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.”

He was sweet over dinner, attentive, like he used to be. For a moment, she almost believed yesterday had been a nightmare.

Then he said, “Off to Dave’s later. Wants to show me his new fishing rod.”

Dave lived across town. A ninety-minute trip.

“Go tomorrow?” she suggested.

“Can’t. Promised.”

He left. Emily cleared up, then took out the cufflinks again—beautiful, expensive, mocking.

Next day, she returned them to the jeweller.

“Any defects?” the clerk asked.

“Yes,” Emily said. “But not in the cufflinks.”

That evening, Harry was off again—this time to his mate Steve’s, something about car repairs.

“Harry,” she stopped him at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Remember what tomorrow is?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Our anniversary. Twenty-seven years.”

Harry smacked his forehead. “Christ, forgot. Sorry, love. We’ll celebrate proper.”

“Where are you rushing off to tonight?”

“Steve’s expecting me. Tomorrow, though—whole day’s yours.”

He kissed her and left. She knew tomorrow would bring another excuse.

Emily sat at the computer, drafted a listing for the house. Hesitated.

Twenty-seven years. A son, future grandchildren, memories. Could she throw it all away?

But what was the alternative? Living with a liar who thought her a fool?

She clicked _Publish._

Next morning, Harry woke chipper.

“Happy anniversary, love.” He pecked her. “Fancy dinner tonight? Or a show?”

“Maybe.”

Harry frowned at her tone but said nothing, leaving for work.

By afternoon, viewings were booked for the weekend.

Harry returned that evening with roses and chocolates.

“For the best wife a man could ask for.”

Emily took the flowers but felt nothing. A bribe, she thought.

“Lovely. Thanks.”

“So, dinner then?”

“Harry, we need to talk.”

His smile faltered. “What about?”

“Sit down.”

They faced each other at the kitchen table. Emily hesitated, then spoke.

“I know about Lucy.”

Harry paled. “Know what?”

“Everything. The meetings. The lies about Dave and Steve. I saw you by the shops.”

Silence. Harry stared at the table.

“Emily, it’s not—”

“Not what? Just comforting an old friend?”

“You followed me?”

“Didn’t have to.” She slid her phone across—photos of Harry and Lucy in a café, holding hands, kissing.

He looked atHarry stared at the photos, his shoulders slumping, before whispering, “I never meant to hurt you,” and in that moment, Emily knew some gifts were never meant to be given, only lost.

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A Gift That Cost Me My Marriage