Emma couldnt remember the last time shed felt this relaxed. Her business trip had been postponed by a few hours, and without a word of explanation, shed switched off her phone and stretched out on the bed. Just that morning, shed returned from her mother-in-laws cottage in the countryside, where shed spent two days without a moments restscrubbing, cooking, cleaning, all under a constant barrage of criticism from both her husband, Oliver, and his mother.
According to her mother-in-law, Emma had trapped Oliver, didnt earn enough (though somehow her salary was supposed to feed the entire household), and worst of all, came home from work too early to justify her exhaustion. Oliver, ever the dutiful son, backed his mother up, insisting Emma could easily take on extra freelance work since she had “all that free time.”
“Look how she mops the floor,” her mother-in-law tutted to Oliver. “Takes her hours! She could be doing the laundry instead.”
Emma snapped. “If you lot mopped even once a week, it wouldnt be this filthy.”
Bad move. The lecture that followed couldve been broadcast on Radio Passive-Aggressive. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and calmly suggested, “I did offer to move you to London. Oliver couldve kept his job, and we couldve looked after you properly.”
Oliver exploded. “So now Im supposed to work myself to death *and* play nurse? Youve got a heart of stone, you have.”
Emma didnt stick around for round two. She marched outside to the garden bench, where she was promptly ambushed by her neighbour, Tanyathe only person in the village who didnt treat her like Cinderellas evil stepmother.
“Rough day with the in-laws?” Tanya asked, handing her a tissue.
Emma sighed. “You have no idea.”
“Look, its none of my business, but why dyou put up with it? Olivers always there, but you two arent even *really* living together. Whats the point?”
Emma shrugged. “We didnt choose this. Once his mums better, hell move back to the city.”
Tanya snorted. “Shell outlive us all at this rate. I reckon shes faking half of it. You used to have a backbonewhat happened?”
“Dunno. Just tired, I suppose.”
When her boss called to say her trip was rescheduled for noon the next day, Emma nearly cheered. Not only was it extra cash (company trips paid well), but it meant a blessed escape from Olivers constant calls. For once, dinner was peacefulthough they slept in separate beds to avoid “upsetting Mum.” Emma didnt argue. She was too knackered to care.
At 2 a.m., her mother-in-laws screech jolted her awake. “Are you deaf? Ive been shouting for ages!”
Emma blinked, groggy. “Sorry. What dyou need?”
“My pills.”
Emma stared. The medicine cabinet was *right* next to her mother-in-laws armchaircloser than Emmas bed, in fact. But she fetched them anyway. By 5 a.m., shed barely slept a wink. By the time she reached London, she looked like shed been dragged through a hedge backwards. When she heard her meeting was delayed, she nearly kissed the receptionist. Switching off her phone, she collapsed onto the hotel bed.
Now, refreshed and with time to spare, she even managed a proper face of makeup before heading to the station. She didnt care that her destination had changedall that mattered was the unexpected peace.
An hour earlier, her per diem had landed in her account. For the first time, she didnt instantly transfer half to Oliver. Something had shifted. Last month, shed handed over most of her paycheck. Not this time.
With twenty minutes till her train, she ducked into a café for bottled waterthen froze. There, at the flower stall, was Oliver. Her stomach lurched. Wasnt he supposed to be playing devoted carer? Hed sworn his mum was too ill to leave alone! Yet here he was, buying a bouquet.
Emmas throat tightened. What if the flowers werent for his mother? The thought slithered in, unwelcome. Nine minutes till departure. Gripping her ticket, she tailed him outsidejust in time to see him climb into a cab. She flagged one down. “Follow that car. Ill pay double.”
The driversuspiciously handsome for a cabbieraised an eyebrow but obliged. Through the window, Emma watched Oliver embrace a woman, handing her the bouquet before she slid into a sleek BMW. The cabbie chuckled. “Might not be what you think.”
Emma barely heard him. The car stopped outside *her* flat. Her blood turned to ice. So while she was away and his “ailing” mum was in Devon, he was bringing strangers into *her* home?
“Still want to go in?” the driver asked gently.
“No point,” she muttered.
“Smart. Youve missed your train anyway. Where were you headed?”
Emma mumbled the name of a town 200 miles away.
“Rubbish. Lets get coffee first. My treat.”
“I cant afford a 200-mile taxi ride,” she said flatly.
“Who said anything about a taxi? I was dropping my dad at the station. He visits my aunt every summer. Then you barrelled in like a hurricane.”
Emma flushed. “Sorry.”
“Right, lets stop the waterworks before you flood my upholstery.”
Thirty minutes later, they stood by the Thames, coffees in hand, watching the sunset. For the first time in years, Emma breathed properly.
“Nice, isnt it?” said the driverAlex, apparently.
“Stunning. Lived here all my life, never knew this spot existed.”
Alex grinned. “Found it after my divorce. Ex-wife cheated. Classic midlife crisisyoga instructor, if you can believe it.”
Emma choked on her latte. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Spent weeks thinking, *How could anyone cheat on this face?*”
She laughed. Properly laughed.
Two days later, Oliver called as Emma packed for her next trip.
“Em, wheres the money? They paid you, didnt they?”
“They did. Its for business expenses.”
“So youre not sending it?”
“Spot on, Ol. Not the per diem, not next months rent. Oh, and get your stuff out of my flat. Its in *my* name, remember?”
Silence. Then: “Are you mental? How am I supposed to live?”
“Get a job. Like every other bloke on the planet.”
“But Mums ill”
“Not ill enough to stop you buying flowers for other women *with my money*.”
She hung up.
Alex had swapped numbers with her that night by the river. Now they texted constantlysilly things, mostly. Goodnight messages. Memes.
On the morning of her next trip, Oliver ambushed her at the doorstep.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we dont.”
He grabbed her wrist, fingers digging in. “Youre not walking away that easy.”
Emma yanked free. “Get off!”
Alex materialised like a superhero in a rom-com. Oliver gaped. “Oh, so youve got a *boyfriend* now?”
Emma straightened. “Actually, yes. And since youre offering, Id *love* a divorce. Saves me the paperwork.”
Olivers jaw unhinged.
Alex drove her to the station in his *definitely-not-a-taxi* BMW. Halfway there, he slammed the brakes, leapt out, and returned with a bouquet of white roses. “Forgot these. Planned the whole dramatic gesture, then fluffed the delivery.”
Emma stared. Then laughed.
It was better than shed dreamed.
