“Speak up!” Emma’s palm slammed the table. “I’ve put up with it for ten years, and now this!”
Sophie sat opposite, eyes downcast. Her hands trembled as she lifted her teacup. A crumpled doctor’s note lay between them on the worn pine surface.
“What do you want from me?” Sophie whispered.
“The truth!” Emma shot up and paced the small kitchen. “I want to know everything! Why did you stay silent? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
Sophie set the cup down. Tea slopped onto the saucer. “Because I was frightened,” she confessed. “Frightened you’d despise me.”
“Aren’t you frightened now?” Emma’s voice shook with fury. “Now that I’ve found out myself?”
Someone thumped the ceiling below. Emma slumped back onto her chair, trying to calm herself, though her hands still trembled.
“Tell me everything,” she demanded. “From the start.”
Sophie wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I didn’t know how. You seemed so blissful then, newly married…”
“Don’t dodge! Speak plainly!”
“I saw James with that woman. At the cafe on High Street. They were sitting by the window, holding hands. She was pregnant.”
Emma felt the floor tilt. She knew about James’s cheating now, but not that someone had witnessed them together so long ago.
“When?”
“Six months after your wedding,” Sophie spoke barely above a murmur. “I was walking home from work, saw them by chance. Didn’t believe it was James at first. Then they came out, and I recognised him.”
“And then?”
“I wanted to approach, but…” Sophie faltered. “He kissed her. So tenderly, like you kiss someone you truly love. Then he put his hand on her stomach.”
Emma closed her eyes. Painful memories flooded back. That time in their marriage when she longed for a baby, and James kept putting it off.
“So, he already had a child with someone else?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. Emma, I truly meant to tell you, but…”
“But you decided to stay quiet. Ten years!”
Sophie flinched at the sharpness in her friend’s voice.
“I thought he’d come to his senses. You were so devoted, planning children, buying baby clothes…”
“Baby clothes,” Emma repeated bitterly. “While he was raising someone else’s child.”
She stood and walked to the window. Children played below, laughing carefree around the swings. Emma had dreamed of her own. Now she was forty-three, and time was running short.
“Emma, forgive me,” Sophie approached her. “I know I did wrong. But I couldn’t destroy your happiness.”
“What happiness?” Emma turned. “The happiness of living with a cheat and a liar? Wasting my best years on a man who didn’t love me?”
“He did love you! I saw how he looked at you.”
“Saw him? When? When he was cheating on me with his pregnant mistress?”
Sophie lowered her head. Her friend’s words stung, but she knew she deserved them.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she whispered.
“The *right* thing?” Emma laughed, a harsh, painful sound. “The right thing would have been telling me the truth then. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted ten years on him.”
The phone rang in the hallway. Emma went to answer while Sophie stayed by the window.
“Hello?” Emma said wearily into the receiver.
“Hi, it’s James. Late at the office tonight. Don’t wait up.”
Emma checked the clock. Seven PM. Office hours ended ages ago.
“Fine,” she replied flatly. “Goodbye.”
She hung up and returned. Sophie was back at the table, crumpling a tissue.
“Was that him?”
“Yes. ‘Working late’ again.”
“Emma, maybe it’s different now? Maybe he’s changed?”
Emma pulled several photos from her bag and tossed them on the table. “See for yourself.”
Sophie leaned closer. James with the same woman, older now, and a boy of about nine stood beside them.
“His son,” Emma explained. “I hired a private investigator yesterday. Turns out, James has had a double life for a decade. Lives here officially, but has another family.”
Sophie covered her mouth. “Good Lord, Emma, I didn’t know…”
“Of course not. Because you stayed silent for ten years.”
“But if I’d told you then, would you have believed me?”
Emma paused. Would she have believed her friend? Or thought she was jealous?
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe not. But I’d have had the chance to find out. Instead, I was kept in the dark.”
Sophie stood, walked to the kettle, and switched it on, though they had tea already.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“Divorce. What choice is there?”
“Does he know you know?”
“Not yet. But he will soon.”
Emma gathered the photos and put them away. Her hands trembled less, but a storm still raged inside.
“You know the worst part?” she said. “Not just the cheating. Losing so much time. Ten irreplaceable years.”
“You’re still young. You’ll find someone else.”
“At forty-three? With my health issues?” Emma gave a bitter smile. “Doubtful.”
Sophie poured boiling water. The tea brewed strong, but neither noticed.
“Emma, I know you’re angry. You have every right. But I genuinely wanted the best for you.”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Emma quoted. “You aimed to preserve my illusion of happiness. Instead, you aided his deception.”
“I didn’t aid him! I just… said nothing.”
“Silence can be betrayal too.”
Sophie looked down. They’d known each other since university days, sharing first loves, heartbreaks, joys. Emma was always bolder; Sophie cautious, preferring not to meddle.
“Remember meeting our husbands?” Sophie asked unexpectedly.
“At that party at Olivia’s.”
“You said immediately you’d marry James. I laughed, said it was too soon.”
“Well?”
“You were always braver than me. More decisive. Maybe if I’d been like you, I’d have told the truth.”
Emma stayed quiet, considering this.
“Sophie, I don’t want our friendship ending over this. But I need time. To process it all.”
“I understand.”
“Ten years,” Emma repeated. “Ten years living a lie. Planning futures, dreaming of children, saving for holidays. While he built a different family.”
Sophie nodded. She recalled Emma buying toys, delighting in his gifts, believing in their future.
“What now?” Sophie asked. “When will you tell him?”
“Tonight. When he comes back from his mistress.”
“Maybe wait until tomorrow? Mull it over properly?”
“No. No more waiting. I’ve wasted quite enough time.”
Emma stood to leave. Sophie walked her to the door.
“Call me, Emma. After it’s done,” she asked.
“We’ll see.”
Emma stepped out and slowly climbed to her third-floor flat. Inside was quiet and empty. James, as usual, was still with his other family.
She went to the bedroom and pulled old photo albums from the wardrobe. Their wedding, honeymoon, early years. She looked so joyful, so in love in the pictures.
And James? Emma studied his face closely. Was his smile genuine? Or already thinking of the other woman?
The phone rang again. Emma didn’t hurry. She picked up after the fourth ring.
“Yes?”
“Emma, it’s me. I’ll be terribly late. Don’t wait.”
“James, we need to talk.”
“Can’t now. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“No
Helen straightened her spine, her hands no longer trembling as she heard Stephen’s key fumble in the lock downstairs. This truth, delayed a decade, would finally be spoken, and her reclaimed voice would shape whatever life came next.
