The morning started in a rush for Emily and Mark. After sleeping through the alarm, they both darted around their small London flat, hurriedly pulling on clothes and packing their son Charlies things for nursery.
Love! Can you pick Charlie up today? Emily yelled from the bedroom, hopping on one foot as she tried to zip up her trousers and stuff a change of clothes into his rucksack.
Yes! Where are my keys? Mark called back from the hallway.
Ive no idea! Emily replied, a touch of irritation in her voice as she clattered around looking for her phone. She finally grabbed it and hurried to dress Charlie, who was far more interested in rolling his cars along the carpet than the morning chaos.
They managed to get Charlie to nursery in record timejust five minutes door to door. As Emily bent down to help him with his zip that had jammed, Charlies lower lip wobbled and he started to cry.
Mummy, I dont want to go to nursery he whimpered, fists clenched, brow furrowed.
Come on, Charlie, not today please, were in a hurry, Emily tried to reassure him, forcing herself to sound calm while her nerves were taut as violin strings. Itll be fun, youll see your friends and play games
But nothing worked; he only grew more upset. The nursery teacher came out, greeted Emily with a warm smile, and gently took Charlie by the hand.
Dont worry, Emily, hell be alright. Come on, Charlie, your friends are waiting!
Emily let out a sigh of relief, though another wave of stress crashed straight into her. Im so lateabsolute nightmare, she muttered, glancing anxiously at her watch. She walked briskly to the exit, thinking shed better ring her client and warn her shed be late. She dug in her bag for her phone, but as she pulled it out, she realised, with a sinking feeling, that it wasnt hers. In the morning rush, she and Mark had mixed up their identical phone cases and both used the same password.
Oh, fantastic she grumbled as frustration simmered. Desperate to contact her client, her mind raced for a solution. Should she call her own phone and ask Mark to forward the number?
Before she could decide, the phone vibrated in her hand. A message appeared on the screen.
Steve: So, how about that girl from the gym? Did she give you her number?
Emily froze. She reread the message, heart pounding, then opened the chat, curiosity and dread mingling inside her.
Steve: Did you manage to get close to her?
Mark: Yeah, got the number. We’re meeting this weekend. At mine.
Emily stared in disbelief. This weekend? Shed planned to take Charlie to her mums and stay overnight.
Oh God she whispered, her heart clenched with pain. If only they hadnt switched phone cases.
It took all her strength to pretend nothing was wrong. Each day, every look at Mark became harder. With three days to go before Saturday, Emily was lost in her own thoughts, asking herself over and over if it might all be a misunderstanding, if shed read too much into a few texts. But she couldnt shake the words shed read: This weekend. At mine.
Mark seemed not to notice a thing, still his usual caring self: asking about her day, helping with dinner, reading stories to Charlie at bedtime. Emily stared into his eyes, desperate for answers to questions she dared not ask. He seemed guiltless, and that unnerved her more than anything.
On Wednesday evening they watched a film together. Mark wrapped his arm round her shoulders as always, and Emily had to bite her lip to stop tears spilling. She suddenly felt vulnerable, as though the ground beneath her had shifted. Every affectionate gesture now felt forced, as if he was hiding something.
On Friday night, after tucking Charlie into bed, Emily stood at the kitchen sink, running her fingers under the water, deep in thought. Mark came up behind her and hugged her waist.
You seem a bit down tonight. Are you alright? he murmured.
Emily braced herself, hiding her trembling hands. Yeah, Im just tired, thats all, she replied, faking a smile.
I get it, he said softly and kissed the top of her head.
That night, after Mark had nodded off, Emily crept out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, turned on the tap, and let her tears flow.
Why? she whispered. Why is this happening?
Tormented by doubts, her mind whirled. How could he? What should I do? Should I confront him, or just leave?
She felt utterly lost, torn between confusion, pain, and the fear of letting go. All she knew was that by morning, shed have to put on a brave face again. Tomorrow would bring the truth.
On Saturday morning, Emily drove Charlie to her mums house. She was heavy-hearted, every move an effort. Her mum noticed instantly that something was off.
Emily, are you sure youre alright? she asked as she welcomed them in.
Emily forced a smile. Im fine, Mum. Just in a hurrythought Id surprise Mark. She kissed Charlie goodbye and hurried back to the car before she broke down.
The whole drive home, her nerves were frayed. What if he just meets Steve? Maybe the other woman wont even show. Or maybe I blew everything out of proportion.
She wanted to catch Mark out, to see him face-to-face if he went through with it, but deep down wished it was just a misunderstanding. She longed to rewind the days, erase the worry, and pretend life was normal again.
Parked outside their block of flats, Emily sat motionless, reminiscing about happier times: Mark joking in the kitchen; walks in Victoria Park with Charlie; quiet evenings in together. Their family seemed so strong and happy. In the car, prolonging those final moments of calm, Emily realised she didnt want to open the door to the reality on the other side.
Mustering her courage, Emily climbed the stairs, paused outside their door, key trembling in her hand. Slowly, she unlocked it, each turn echoing in the silent hallway. The flat was quiet except for the distant murmur of voices and laughter from the kitchen. Emilys heart thudded against her ribs.
Its happening, she thought.
For a second, the world spun. Step by step, dazed, she walked down the hallway. Every muscle fought against her, but she moved inexorably forward. Through the kitchen archway, she finally called out:
Mark?
And again, louder: Mark?
With no reply, she stepped into the kitchen. Two figures stood by the countera man and a woman. The man wasnt Mark. It was Steve, Marks best mate. Emily stared in shock. Steve spun round, startled.
Emily! Thisuhits not what you think. Honestly! You know how it is at our place, I couldnt take her to Mumsplease, Emily!
Emily barely heard his hurried explanations, her mind numb with confusion. She felt hot tears slip down her cheeks, and before she realised, she found herself laughinga strange, relieved smile breaking through her misery.
I get it, Steve, she whispered, barely holding herself together. I really do. Im going.
She turned and stepped outside, the crisp air biting her face. Still shaking, Emily pulled out her phone and dialled Marks number.
Hello? Mark answered. Emily couldnt put two words together for a moment. What finally burst out was as odd and sudden as it was true:
I love youso much…
Through tears, laughter, and broken sentences, she tried to explain, but emotion overwhelmed her. Fear, suspicion, and tension all gave way in a rush.
I was at homeSteves here she murmured.
OhEmily, please dont be cross. Im at the office. Come here, please, sweetheart You know Steve. Will you come?
Im on my way
Emily ran to her car, impatience to see Mark and hold him wiping out all doubts.
Later, Emily and Mark sat cross-legged on the conference room floor, a bottle of wine between them. Emily rested her head on Marks shoulder, clutching her glass.
Im sorry for reading your messages. Id never have done it, not on purpose
No, love, Im sorry for letting myself get tangled in Steves schemes. I really should have filled you in from the start.
Why did Steve rope you in anyway? she asked, a wry smile appearing.
Because hes my mate. The day before, he embarrassed himself in front of that gym girlwent flying into her and spilled an energy drink down her suit. Blue stains all over, completely mortified. Then he turned right back into a panicky teenager. Mark, help! I cant! You talk to her! Honest to God, Emily.
Mark did an exaggerated imitation of Steve, and Emily burst out laughing.
Hes been my best mate since primary school. Guess Im the only one who sees the real him, Mark chuckled.
And why didnt he just take her to a hotel?
Because he still lives with his mum to save money. And for her cooking. And so she can do his washing.
Emily giggled. What a cheapskate!
Weve been mates for twenty years Hes a character, thats for certain.
Emily shook her head, finally relaxing. Waitare Steve and his date still at ours? We cant stay at your office all night.
Mark leaned over and kissed her. Im not as much of a scrimper as Steve. Were having a romantic eveningyou and me.
Oh really? Are we going to a hotel? Emily grinned.
Mark nodded, suddenly scooping her up in his arms. She squealed and tried to wriggle free, but he held her tight.
Ill get you there safe and sound!
Emily laughed heartily, struggling to believe that just a few hours before, shed thought her whole life was falling apart.
Sometimes the stories we tell ourselves bring more pain than the truth ever could. Trust and honest conversation save more than assumptions ever willand, as Emily learned, happiness often waits just beyond the storm of doubt.
