On my husbands birthday, my son pointed at the guests and shouted, Thats her! Shes wearing that skirt!
I couldnt refuse him.
Please, Mum, he insisted. I promised my friends Id bring the blanket and the drinks. And I told them youd bake those caramel chocolate cakes.
So, being the good mother I am, I started searching. Old suitcases, tangled cables, broken fans from summers long gone. And then, tucked in a corner, I saw it.
A black box. Elegant, square, hidden like a secret. I wasnt being nosy, but I couldnt resist. I lifted the lid carefully and sat on the carpet.
My breath caught.
Inside was a satin skirtdeep violet, soft as a whisper, with delicate embroidery along the hem. Sophisticated. Beautiful.
And familiar.
Id shown it to Jamesmy husbandmonths ago while walking through town. We passed a boutique, and Id pointed it out in the window. Too extravagant, Id said, though deep down, I hoped hed remember.
You deserve something luxurious now and then, hed laughed.
So when I saw the skirt, neatly folded in tissue paper inside that box, I knew. It had to be my birthday gift. A quiet joy filled me.
Maybe things were still good between us.
I didnt want to ruin the surprise, so I closed the box, put it back, and handed Oliver an old blanket. I even bought a blouse to match the skirt and tucked it away in my drawer, waiting for the right moment.
My birthday came. The family gathered. James handed me a wrapped gift with a boyish grin.
Books.
A lovely stack of carefully chosen novelsbut no sign of the skirt. Not a word about it.
I waited. Maybe he was saving it for a special dinner, just the two of us.
That moment never came.
Days later, I sneaked back into the wardrobe for another look. But the box was gone. No trace.
Still, I said nothing. I didnt want to be the wife who doubted. Who jumped to conclusions.
Hope keeps us standing, even when we know better.
Three months passed. No sign of the skirt. No word. Just silence.
Then one afternoon, as I baked lemon cakes for a wedding order, Oliver walked into the kitchen. His eyes darted nervously, his shoulders tense.
Mum? he said quietly. I need to tell you something. About that skirt.
I set the spatula down.
I know Dad bought it, he began. When we went to the mall for my football boots, he told me to wait outside. Said he had something to pick up.
My stomach tightened.
Then one day, Oliver continued, I skipped school. Came home early to grab my skateboard but I heard voices upstairs. Thought it was you and Dad.
He paused, swallowing hard.
But youre never home at that time. I got scared. Hid under the bed.
My heart ached for him.
She laughed, Mum. It wasnt you. I saw her legs. She was wearing the skirt.
I froze, the room slowly spinning around me.
Then I pulled him into my arms.
No child should carry such a secret.
Days later, I hosted Jamess birthday party. I cooked, cleaned, smiled.
I wore a navy-blue dress and red lipstick. I put on the shoes I always regret after an hour. And I played my partthe gracious wife, the warm hostess, the steady pillar.
Inside, I was crumbling.
The party buzzed with chatter and music until Oliver tugged my sleeve.
Mum, he whispered, eyes wide. Its her. The skirt. Shes wearing it.
I followed his gaze.
Emily.
Jamess assistant. She stood by the wine table, glowing and confident in that unmistakable violet satin skirt.
The one hed hidden.
The one I thought was for me.
She stood beside her husband, Daniel, glass in hand, beaming.
I picked up a tray of canapés and walked toward them with a smile.
Emily! That skirt suits you beautifully. Where did you find it?
She blinked, startled. Oh thank you. It was a gift.
How lovely, I said sweetly. FunnyI had one just like it. Found it in the house once. Then it vanished.
Her smile faltered.
Across the room, James watched, frozen.
Daniel! I called. Come join us! We were admiring Emilys skirt. And you, James!
The four of us stood in a tense circle. Emilys hand trembled on her glass. Daniel looked confused. James seemed devastated.
I loved that skirt, I said softly. I thought it was for me. But now I see it was meant for someone else.
James coughed. I gave it to Emily. A bonus. For her excellent work.
How thoughtful, I replied, my voice steady. For her performance at work or for her lunchtime visits to our bedroom?
Silence.
Daniel stepped back from Emily. Her eyes filled with shame, and I stood there, knowing my life from that moment onward would be wholly my own.
Sometimes the truth doesnt set you free. It simply lets you walk away without looking back.
