“Youre going to see her again, arent you?”
Emily fixed her husband with a sharp stare. James kept tying his shoelaces, avoiding her gaze.
“To see the kids, Em. The kidsnot her,” he muttered, standing up to grab his jacket from the hook. “How many times do we have to have this conversation?”
Emily clenched her jaw, lips pressed into a thin line. There were so many things she wanted to say, but the words lodged in her throat like a lump, heavy and suffocating.
“You were fine with it before we got married,” James went on, shrugging into his coat. “You knew I had kids. I told you everything upfront. You said you understood. And now what? Interrogations every time I leave?”
Emily bit down harder. James didnt wait for a replyjust walked out, the click of the door echoing behind him.
It took her a few seconds to move. Her legs felt like lead. She sank onto the sofa in the living room, flipping on some mindless TV show for background noise. Anything to drown out the thoughts.
Theyd been together three yearstwo of them married. And yes, shed known from the start. Divorced. Two kids. A boy and a girl. James had told her on their third date. Back then, Emily had smiled, said it wasnt a problem, that she understood. That kids werent an obstacle.
Now those words felt naive. Stupid.
Emily pressed her palm to her eyes and took a deep breath. Holding back tears was getting harder. Her chest ached like an invisible weight was crushing her.
It had become unbearable. Twice a week, like clockwork: Tuesday and Saturday. James left for his ex-wifes house. Officially, it was to see the children. But he stayed for dinner. Spent time with *her*with Sophie.
Emily knew it was ridiculous. She trusted James. Or at least, she tried to convince herself she did. But something gnawed at hera creeping dread that made her stomach turn.
When James was gone, Emily was alone in the flat. She spiralled, hating herself for not standing her ground, for letting his promises sway her, for staying silent when she shouldve screamed.
She snatched her phone and texted her best friend: *”Hes at hers again.”*
Her phone buzzed instantlyLucy calling.
“Hello?” Emily tried to keep her voice steady.
“Em, what the hell are you doing?” Lucy didnt mince words. “How much longer are you going to put up with this? Hes cheating. Its obvious.”
“No, Luce, you dont get it”
“I *do* get it,” Lucy cut in. “Twice a week, hes over at his exs, stays till god knows when, and youre telling me theyre just building Lego with the kids?”
Emily dragged a hand down her face. She knew Lucy was right. But saying it out loud meant admitting her marriage was a farce.
“He swears theres nothing between them,” Emily murmured. “That its just about the kids.”
“Oh, love, youre so naive,” Lucy sighed. “Open your eyes. Decent blokes dont spend half the evening at their exs. Decent blokes take the kids out, bring them back, and leave. But yours? Hes sitting at her kitchen table, eating her roast dinners, and probably holding her hand when the kids arent looking.”
“Luce, stop” Emily gripped the phone tighter.
“Fine. But remember this: youre going to regret it if you stay. And when it blows up, dont say I didnt warn you.”
The call ended. Emily stared at the ceiling. On the telly, a laugh track blared. She didnt care.
James came back just before midnight. She heard him shuffle in, toe off his shoes, head to the bathroom. When he slid into bed, she caught the faint, sweet trace of someone elses perfume. Cloying. Unmistakable.
She didnt ask why he was late. Couldnt muster the energy. But James spoke first, shifting under the covers.
“Sorry Im late. Lily needed help with her school projectwe made this silly pinecone hedgehog. Took ages.”
Emily nodded in the dark, though he couldnt see.
This went on for months. Tuesday. Saturday. Leaving. Coming back. That damned perfume. Excuses.
Then James changed. Grew sullen, withdrawn. Spent whole evenings scowling at his phone. Emily tried asking what was wrong, but hed brush her off, mutter something vague, and disappear into another room.
Two weeks later, he dropped the bombshell:
“Listen, weve got a double date on Friday.”
Emily turned, eyebrows raised.
“With who?”
“Sophie and her new bloke.”
A wave of relief crashed over her. So Sophie had someone? That meant James hadnt been with her, hadnt cheated? All her fears had been for nothing?
Emily smiled, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Of course well go.”
Friday came fast. She even bought a new dressa fitted pale blue one. She wanted to look good. Wanted Sophie to see she was the right choice.
They met at a cosy café across town, all wooden tables and soft lighting. Sophie was already there with a tall, athletic man in his fortiesMax.
“Hi,” Sophie stood to greet them. “This is Max.”
She looked stunning. Slim, polished, effortlessly put together.
Max shook Jamess hand, and they sat.
Emily had a good feeling. Thisd be fine. Theyd chat, keep it civil, and go home.
But the night was a disaster.
James spent the entire evening trying to one-up Max. He interrupted him, made a show of knowing Sophie better.
Max suggested a pepperoni pizza. James jumped in:
“Sophie doesnt like spicy.”
“I know,” Max said calmly. “We discussed it. This is for us. Sophies ordering something else.”
But James kept going.
“Remember that time at Brighton, Soph?” he said, ignoring Max entirely. “When Ollie dragged that jellyfish ashore, thought it was a toy?”
Sophie nodded, but her smile was tight.
“James, that was years ago.”
He barrelled on. Story after storyabout the kids, their past, picking out prams, sleepless nights with baby colic.
Emily sat silent, gripping her water glass. Every word was a knife twist. She could see Sophie was uncomfortable tooshooting James warning looks, steering the conversation elsewhere. But he was oblivious.
And then it hit her.
James hadnt let go. He was still clingingto her, to their history, to the kids. And Emily? She was the spare. The placeholder.
Her phone rang. A robocall from the bank. But she seized the excuse.
“Sorry, Ive got to go. Family emergency.”
No one stopped her. James didnt even turn.
Back home, she dragged out a suitcase and started packing.
James walked in an hour later, scowling. He froze at the sight of the suitcase.
“Whats going on?”
Emily looked up. Dry-eyed. Shed cried enough between folding jumpers and jeans.
“Im leaving.”
“What? Where?”
“Anywhere but here.” She zipped the suitcase shut. “Tonight showed me the truth. Youre still in love with her. Or just cant let go. I dont know which is worse.”
“What are you on about?”
“Dont,” she cut him off. “I saw how you acted. You were marking your territory. And I was just there. An afterthought.”
James said nothing.
“I wont be your backup plan,” Emily said, lifting the suitcase. “Im done.”
“Em, wait”
“No.” She shook her head. “I love you. But itll fade. At least this way, I keep some self-respect.”
She walked out. James just stood there, watching. Didnt stop her. Didnt ask her to stay. Didnt even try to explain.
Emily called a taxi. As it sped through the city, she stared out the window, one thought clear in her mind:
She was finally free.
