You brought her to us yourself, didnt you?
Chris, youre an absolute find! A man who can tinker with engines and whip up a proper dinnerwhat a rare breed. Emma, youre lucky as can be with a husband like that, Ill say it straight.
Emma reclined in her chair, flashing a smile as bright as fresh snow. Emily caught the glance Emma cast at her husband, and something unsettled deep under her ribs. She quickly shrugged it off: nonsense, she told herself, just a newcomer to London trying to fit in.
Emma had moved into their lives a month earlier. The new friend seemed sweet, a little lost in this unfamiliar city. How could they not help?
Dont flatter him, Emily said with a smile to Chris. He only learned to make shepherds pie in the seventh year of our marriage.
Still, what a pie! Emma leaned forward, touching Chriss elbow. Id marry a chef like that in a heartbeat.
Chris puffed out his chest, pleased, while Emily noted his ears reddeninga sure sign the compliment had landed.
Just trying, he replied.
The first visit stretched into the late evening. Emma admired the flats renovations, the childrens photographs, Chriss record collection. Every topic turned back to him: Chris, where did you find that? Chris, you have such taste! Chris, tell us more.
Emily poured tea, watching closely. Emma sat a shade too close to her husband, laughed a little too loudly at his dry jokes, and brushed his hand whenever she spoke.
Mum, whos that lady?
Jack, their twelveyearold, peeked into the kitchen while Emily was washing dishes after the guest had left.
Just a friend. New one.
Kind of odd. He keeps staring at Dad.
Emily froze, a plate in her hands. If even a twelveyearold noticed
Shes just a friend, she told her son.
She told herself the same thing for weeks. It was just a misperception, an exaggeration. Emma was simply open and chatty.
Emma kept returningsometimes with a recipe, sometimes with tickets to an exhibition shed suddenly won, sometimes just passing by. Each time Chris was home, and each time Emma seemed to blossom in his presence.
Youre something special, Chris, not like the rest, she said, perched in the kitchen. Emily, where did you find him? Men like him dont turn up every day.
We met on the tube, Emily replied evenly. Fifteen years ago, on the escalator.
Romantic!
Emma clapped her hands, Chris smiled, and Emily forced a smile of her own.
After one visit, Chris lingered in the hallway, seeing the guest out. Emily heard their muffled laughter through the door.
What took so long? she asked when Chris returned.
She was telling a joke. Very funny.
Right.
Emily let the subject drop, fearing shed look like a jealous, hysterical wife.
Two weeks later everything shifted. Chriss phone lay faceup on the nightstand while he showered. Emily wasnt planning to look, but the screen lit up with an incoming message.
I miss you. Youre such a charmer and a wonderful conversationalist.
Emma.
Emily sat on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching for the phone. She knew the password; theyd never kept secrets from each other.
The messages had been going on for weeks. Emma wrote about loneliness, the difficulty of settling in a new city, and how lucky she felt to have found someone as understanding as Chris.
He replied with encouragement, calling her lovely and promising shed find her happiness, sprinkling the texts with emojis.
Emily placed the phone back down. From the bathroom came the sound of water and a faint whistlingChris was in a good mood.
Chris, he called as he stepped out, towel wrapped around his head, and froze when he saw his wifes face.
Whats wrong?
I saw your messages with Emma.
A pause, brief but enough.
Its nothing, Emma, Chris said. Just a chatty girl, lonely in a new place. You brought her to us, after all.
Emily searched his eyes for any hint of guilt; Chris looked genuinely surprised.
Are you jealous? Seriously? Weve been together twelve years, we have two kids, and youre jealous of your own friend because of a few emojis?
Shes flirting with you.
She talks to everyone like that. Youre blowing it out of proportion.
Emily wanted to argue, to say that proper friends dont message other men at night, dont call them charmers, dont say they miss them. But Chris was already in his shirt, leaving the bedroom.
Emma didnt retreat. On the contrary, she appeared more often, offering reasons to help: watching the children while Emily worked, cooking dinner when Emily was late. Lily, their eightyearold, gushed about Aunt Vicky, who baked the best pancakes and let her stay up watching cartoons.
I just wanted to help, Emma said with an innocent look. Its hard for you to manage alone.
I have a husband.
Of course, of course. Chris is a wonderful dad. Youre lucky to have each other.
There was something false in those words, a vague doublemeaning Emily couldnt place, but the sting remained.
Chris now clung to his phone, taking it to the loo, tucking it under his pillow at night, reaching for it at every buzz. At dinner he talked less, eyes fixed on the screen, lips tugging into a halfsmile.
Dad, are you listening to me?
Jack asked three times before Chris tore himself away from the device.
What? Yeah, son, of course. Whats up?
I was talking about the swimming competition. Youll come, right?
Definitely. When is it?
Saturday. Ive told you three times already.
Chris ruffled Jacks hair apologetically, then dove back into his phone. Emily silently cleared the dishes. Jack stared at his father, hurt. Lily poked at her cutlet, puzzled by the sudden quiet.
Emmas flirtation grew bolder. No longer hidden behind polite compliments, she brushed Chriss collar, wiped an imagined speck of dust from his shoulder, grabbed his hand when she laughed, held his gaze a moment too long, licked her lips as she looked at him.
Emily watched the scene from the corner of her kitchen, as if Emma acted as though Emily were invisible, or merely a temporary, annoying obstruction to be ignored.
Chris, can you show me that photoediting program on the computer? You promised.
Now?
Why are you dragging it out?
They disappeared into Chriss study, closing the door behind them.
That day Emily decided to surprise her husband. She prepared his favourite mealstuffed peppers he never refused, a shrimp saladpacked everything into a tin, and drove to his office.
The office was quiet at lunch, most staff in the canteen. The secretary at reception gave Emily a nodshe was known there.
Chris Turner is in his office, but
Emily didnt catch the rest. She walked the hallway to his door, slightly ajar. She pushed it open and froze on the threshold.
Chris sat at the edge of his desk. Emma stood between his knees, arms wrapped around his neck. They kisseddeep, hungry, the sort of kiss long after the first.
The tin slipped from Emilys hands, crashing to the floor.
Both sprang apart. Emma looked more annoyed than embarrassed; Chris turned ashen.
Emily its not what you think.
Not what?
Emily heard her own laughdry, cracked.
Emily
Come on, Chris. Explain. Tell me how she just fell onto your chest.
Emma smoothed her blouse, gathered her handbag from the chair.
I think Ill be off.
Wait.
Emily blocked her way. Emma met her stare defiantlyno remorse, no guilt.
You knew he was married. You came into my home, ate at my table, played with my children.
Adults are responsible for their own actions.
Emma shrugged and walked past Emily, her heels clicking. She turned at the door:
Give me a ring when youre free, Chris.
Emily faced her husband. Twelve yearstwelve damned years of building this family. Sleepless nights with newborns, promotions celebrated together, a threeyear renovation, seaside holidays where Lily first swam unaided, Christmas trees, birthdays, childrens illnessesall reduced to nothing.
Chris, Im sorry. I know. But we can fix this.
We can?
I she turned my head. But I love you, I love the kids
When you get back home, your things will be packed. You can take them and go to your Emma.
Emily turned and left. She didnt crythere were no tears left, only ice in her veins.
She packed methodically: a suitcase from the storage, shirts from the wardrobe, socks, underwear, tiesall in one pile. A razor, toothbrush, deodorant. Twelve years compressed into a suitcase and three bags.
When the children returned from school, their fathers belongings lay by the door.
Mum, wheres Dad? Lily peered into the bedroom.
Dad will be living elsewhere.
Jack said nothing, glanced at his mother, at the empty closet, and went to his room.
That evening Emily called her mother.
Mum
She tried to speak calmly, but the words broke, and tears finally bursthot, angry, helpless.
Darling, Im on my way. Wait for me.
Eleanor arrived an hour later, embraced her daughter, brewed tea, and settled her at the kitchen table.
Tell me everything.
Emily recounted everythingEmma, the messages, todays crash. Eleanor listened in silence.
You did the right thing, she said when Emily fell silent.
The right thing?
Of course. Betrayal isnt forgiven. You can forgive a mistake, a weakness, a folly, but not this.
Emily leaned into her mothers shoulder.
The divorce dragged on for six monthspapers, hearings, splitting assets. Chris tried to return, calling, texting, showing up.
Emily never opened the door.
The children stayed with her. Jack visited his father reluctantly, every two weeks, because he had to. Lily missed him but quickly found solace in dance and drawing.
Two years slipped by faster than expected. Emily returned to work, enrolled in courses, shed six kilos after she stopped eating her stress. Life gradually fell back into place.
David entered by chance at a school meeting for Jackturns out his nephew was in the same class. They chatted in the corridor while waiting for teachers, later met at the school café, then David called to ask how she was doing.
Youre lovely, he said on their third date. Im not great with flowery words, but its true.
Emily laughed; David was the opposite of Chrissteady, reliable, the type who spoke little but acted a lot.
The kids didnt take to him immediately. Jack watched him like a hawk, Lily felt protective of her mother. But David didnt rush, didnt press. He helped with homework, taught Jack to fix his bike, drove Lily to her dance competitions.
A year later they marriedquietly, no lavish banquet, only close friends who truly rejoiced in their happiness.
Did you hear? Eleanor called on a Saturday morning. David was flipping pancakes, the children ran about the house.
Whats up?
I ran into Tanya Morozova yesterday. Remember her?
Of course.
She told me about your ex. Chris and Emma split long ago. He dumped her half a year after your divorce.
Emily retreated to the bedroom and shut the door.
He left her?
Yes, found someone younger.
Right.
Thats how it goeswhat you sow.
Emily hung up and sat on the bed. She expected vindication or at least a smug feeling. Instead there was only a light relief and the thought: Good, its no longer my problem.
Emily, the pancakes are ready!
David popped his head in, holding a steaming plate.
Im coming.
She stood, took his hand.
Everything okay?
No, all fine.
Chris was now a memory. Emma got what she deservedloneliness and shattered hopes. In this kitchen, the scent of pancakes lingered, Lily argued with Jack over the last banana, and David looked at Emily with a love that made her smile.
Life went on, and this new life was good.
