You really have baked my favourite pasties! exclaimed Henry, bouncing in through the front door fresh from his latest business tripor so he claimed. But the moment he took a bite, he paled dramaticallyfor inside the pasty lurked a very unexpected surprise from his wife.
Emily carefully slid the baking tray into the preheated oven, dusted the flour off her hands, and eyed the kitchen clock. Today, she was determined that everything would be absolutely spot-on. The pasties needed to rise just right, develop that perfect golden crust, and come out looking like the masterpieces Henry always loved.
There was a time when life for Emily was peaceful and undemanding, nearly to a fault. Shed grown used to her own company and had almost made peace with the notion shed always be alone. But thenon that fateful Tuesday during a job interviewa tall man with an air of complete self-assurance waltzed in. He exuded confidence and a whiff of aftershave. Emily felt something shift inside her, quite against her will.
From there, her life seemed to take a sharp left turn. Love, a wedding, the pleasant sensation that everything had finally fallen into place. She was happy and hardly noticed how completely she dissolved into Henrys world.
But two years later, Henry abruptly announced he was being sent to Manchester for work. Just a month, Em, promise, he muttered, tossing boxers into a suitcase. That month stretched on for an entire year. Calls trickled in occasionally, brief and business-like. Emily waited, rationalised, and clung on to hopeuntil a casual acquaintance, over a pint at the local, let slip hed seen Henry in London. Arm-in-arm. In Sainsburys. Not exactly on a work mission.
At that point, Emily saw the wool had been firmly pulled over her eyes. She could have thrown a fit, bombarded him with calls, demanded explanations and apologies. Instead, she waited. Revenge, after all, is a dish best served cold (preferably with a golden crust).
A year later, out of the blue, the phone rang. Henry. His assignment was finally over and he was headed home. Oh, and Em? Fancy baking your legendary pasties, the ones with the mash. Really missed them.
You really have baked my favourite pasties! Henry declared, stepping into the kitchen as if hed just returned from the corner shop, not a year-long mysterious absence. He plopped himself onto a stool, crossed his legs, and took a good look around, as if nothing had happened. Emily welcomed him with warmth, never letting on she knew the truth.
I see you went all out with the pasties, he grinned, eyeing the precise, golden stack.
He smiled, as if neither lies, nor disappearances, nor Sainsburys had ever intervened in their marriage. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the nearest pasty and took an overconfident bite.
Seconds later, his face drained of colour and his eyes filled with pure terror. This was not the sort of homecoming treat hed anticipated. To be continued in reply
That morning, Emily had set the oven to just the right temperature, kneaded the dough with care, and calmly prepared the filling. Her routine was unchanged, precise as always. Except today, in one of the pasties, there was something other than mashed potatoes hiding inside. A handful of tiny glass shards.
Henrys smile collapsed the moment he bit down. He had barely started chewing before spitting it all out, too late. His mouth filled with something decidedly red, his tongue and gums stung sharply as if stung by a hive of angry bees.
He gripped the table, coughing and spluttering, trying to piece together what, precisely, had just happened.
You really have baked my favourite pasties! hed said, right before realising just what his dear wife had cooked up for him.
Emily regarded him with unruffled calm.
Consider it payback for your lies and philandering, she told him evenly. Next time you fancy betraying someone, do recall this particular taste of pain.
Henry tried to respond, but what came out was more wheeze than words. He reached for his phone, but Emily was already unfastening her coat, picking up her suitcase (packed well in advance), and heading for the door.
She didnt ring for an ambulance. She had nothing more to say. Emily left for good, her ex-husband slumped at the kitchen table with a mouthful of regret and a lifelong memory of the day he got his just desserts.
