Emma felt the small velvet box in her dressing gown pocket and clenched it tightly in her palm. Her heart pounded so hard she thought the whole flat could hear it. The dull hum of the TV drifted through the wall—Andrew was watching the evening news, as he had done every night for twenty-seven years of their marriage.
“Love, want some tea?” he called from the living room.
“In a minute,” she replied, still gripping the box. “Just let me finish up.”
She stood by the kitchen window, watching the neighbour’s children kick a football between parked cars. An ordinary weekday scene, yet today it felt different—like she was seeing it for the last time.
The box warmed in her hand. Inside lay a pair of gold cufflinks with tiny diamonds—a gift she’d been saving for Andrew’s anniversary for months. She’d skimped on her own creams and medicines to set aside a little from each paycheck. She wanted to surprise him, to show how much she treasured him.
But yesterday, everything changed.
“You coming or what?” Andrew called impatiently. “The programme’s already started.”
Emma took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Her husband sat in his favourite armchair, in a stretched-out T-shirt and worn joggers. Two mugs of tea sat on the coffee table, next to a folded newspaper.
“Hey, remember Sarah Cooper from our school year?” Andrew asked, eyes glued to the screen.
Emma froze, the cup trembling in her hands. Sarah was exactly who she’d been thinking about all night.
“Yeah,” she answered carefully. “What about her?”
“Ran into her near the shop today. Said she’s just divorced. Husband left her for some younger woman. Can you imagine? After thirty years.”
Emma set the cup back down. Her fingers shook.
“What’s she doing now?”
“Living alone in a tiny flat, scraping by as a cleaner. Poor thing. She was a nice girl back then.”
Andrew shook his head and flicked channels, the screen flashing with adverts.
Emma stayed silent. She couldn’t tell him she’d seen that meeting with her own eyes. That she’d stood in the next aisle and heard every word. That she’d watched him embrace Sarah, seen her press close, listened as they arranged to meet the next evening.
“Emma, why so quiet?” Andrew finally looked at her. “Feeling poorly?”
“No, just tired,” she forced a smile. “Long day at work.”
“Right. Best turn in early then.”
He turned back to the telly. Emma stood and pretended to clear the dishes, the cufflinks suddenly heavy as a stone in her pocket.
She remembered spotting them in the jeweller’s window three months ago. How she’d lingered, imagining Andrew’s delight. He always appreciated nice things, though he rarely bought them for himself. Always said family came first.
Family. What a joke.
Emma pulled out the box and opened it. The cufflinks gleamed under the kitchen light. Beautiful. Expensive. The sort he’d never buy himself.
“Love, just nipping to the shop,” Andrew called from the hall. “We’re out of bread.”
“Alright,” she shouted back.
The door clicked shut. Emma peered out the window and watched him walk across the courtyard—not toward the shops, but to the bus stop. The same place they’d arranged to meet Sarah yesterday.
She snapped the box shut and walked into the bedroom. Framed photos covered the dressing table—their wedding, their son Jamie’s birth, their first seaside holiday. Happy faces, hugs and smiles. Had it all been a lie?
She picked up their wedding photo. Andrew in a white suit, her in a long lace gown. Young and full of hope, the whole future ahead of them.
“Mum, you there?” Jamie’s voice carried through the door, followed by a knock. “Let me in!”
Emma shoved the box into the dresser drawer and hurried to answer. Jamie stood on the doorstep, arms full of groceries.
“Sweetheart, so glad you’re here,” she hugged him.
“Thought I’d pop round, been ages,” he said, unloading the bags in the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”
“Just gone to the shops,” she lied. “Back soon.”
Jamie filled the kettle and set it to boil.
“Mum, you alright? You look pale.”
“Fine, love. Just knackered from work.”
“Right.” He handed her a cuppa. “Oh, d’you remember Matt? My new mate from work. Nice bloke, single. Fancy coming over this weekend? I want to show you both the new flat.”
Emma nodded though she barely heard him. The same thoughts spun in her head. How long had this affair gone on? Did Andrew love Sarah? Was he planning to leave?
“Mum? You listening?” Jamie waved a hand in front of her face.
“Sorry, just thinking. You were saying about the flat.”
“No, I asked if you wanted a dog. Remember how we always talked about it as kids? Now you two’ve got the time.”
“A dog?” Emma blinked. “Why?”
“Dunno, company. Must get lonely, just the two of you.”
Just the two of them. He had no idea.
“Jamie, tell me honestly,” she sat across from him, “are you happy in your marriage?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“What kind of question is that? ‘Course I am. Grace is brilliant.”
“But if you found out she was cheating?”
“Mum!” Jamie nearly choked on his tea. “Grace wouldn’t—where’s this coming from?”
Emma backtracked.
“Nothing, just something on telly about affairs.”
Jamie shrugged. “Dunno. Probably divorce her. Couldn’t live with someone who betrayed me.”
Betrayed. The word fit perfectly.
They talked about nothing for another hour before Andrew returned, swinging a loaf of bread and grinning.
“Oi, Jamie’s here!” he cheered, clapping their son on the back. “How’s it going?”
“Alright, Dad. Working hard.”
“Good lad.” Andrew hung up his coat. “Actually bumped into Sarah Cooper today—remember her from school? Just got divorced.”
Emma watched him closely. No guilt, no hesitation. So natural, as if he’d really just run into an old classmate.
“Don’t recall her,” Jamie said. “What happened?”
“Husband left her. Skint now, poor thing.”
“Dunno, Dad. Her problem, innit? Everyone’s got their own life.”
Andrew nodded and flicked the telly on. Jamie left soon after.
“Mum, sure you’re okay?” he asked, pulling on his jacket. “You seem off.”
“Fine, love. Drive safe.”
The flat fell quiet again. Andrew watched a film while Emma pretended to read, the words blurring on the page.
Next morning, Andrew kissed her cheek and left for work as usual. Like nothing had changed.
Emma couldn’t focus. Colleagues asked if she was ill, but she blamed it on a headache.
That evening, she came home early and made his favourite—bangers and mash. Set the table, even lit candles.
Andrew looked stunned when he saw.
“What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. Just fancied treating you.”
They ate by candlelight, chatting about work and holiday plans. Andrew was attentive, sweet—like he’d been when they were young. For a moment, she almost believed yesterday was a dream.
After dinner, he stood.
“Listen, gonna pop round Pete’s. He’s got a new fishing rod to show me.”
Pete lived across town—a ninety-minute bus ride.
“Can’t it wait?”
“Nah, he’s expecting me.”
Andrew changed and left. Emma cleared the table, washed up, then took out the cufflink box again.
Beautiful. Expensive. Bought with money she’d scrimped for. She’d thought this would be a symbol of their love, a thank-you for their years together.
Now, it just felt like a joke.
Next day, she returned to the jeweller’s.
“I’d like to return these.”
“Faulty, are they?”
“No,” she said quietly. “The marriage is.”
The shop assistant frowned but refunded her without question.
That evening, Andrew made another excuse—this time, helping a mate fix his car.
“Andrew,” she stopped him as he reached for the door.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know what tomorrow is?”
He frowned.
“Not sure. What’s tomorrow?”
“Our anniversary. Twenty-seven years.”
He slapped his forehead.
“Bloody hell! Forgot. Sorry, love. We’ll celebrate, promise.”
“Where are you going tonight? Couldn’t it wait?”
“Nah, Steve’s expecting me. But tomorrow’s all yours.”
He kissed her cheek and left. Emma knew he wouldn’t be home tomorrow either.
She sat at the computer and drafted a listing for the house. Stared at the screen, finger hovering over “Post.”
She took a deep breath, clicked the button, and watched as twenty-seven years of her life disappeared into the cold glow of the screen, leaving only the empty cufflink box as a bitter reminder of the love she’d once believed in.
