A View to a Betrayal
Charlotte couldn’t sit still—she paced the flat like a caged animal. Her husband’s recent behaviour had her on edge. Lately, James had been unusually attentive: helping with chores, cooking fancy dinners, even buying flowers. All this kindness set off alarm bells. “He’s definitely up to something,” Charlotte muttered, wandering to the window. Her gaze drifted downward—and her stomach lurched. She jerked back. “Surely he wouldn’t?” she whispered, unable to believe her eyes.
Just then, a woman’s voice spoke behind her. It was his wife—Elizabeth.
James stood by the window, watching as Charlotte, their neighbour, walked her little terrier. Elizabeth joined him, peeked outside, and immediately tensed.
“Deep in thought?” she asked, a frosty edge to her tone.
“Work stuff,” he sighed, avoiding her gaze. “A colleague’s messed up, and now I’m stuck fixing it.”
She studied him. Something in his voice and face gave him away. But she just nodded and headed to the kitchen.
James felt irritation simmering inside him. Lately, Elizabeth had been getting on his nerves—sharp-tongued, nitpicky. He’d started looking for warmth elsewhere. And he’d found it in Charlotte. She was quiet, smiley, and lived alone on the floor above.
That evening, a power cut at work sent everyone home early. After lounging about, he went for a stroll—just as Charlotte was outside. He couldn’t resist. A chat turned into coffee, which turned into her flat.
By morning, guilt weighed heavy. Their wedding photo hung in the hallway—young, beaming, in love. He remembered his vows. “Forever” now rang hollow.
He cooked Elizabeth’s favourite—shepherd’s pie. When she got home, tired but pleased, she praised him, even kissed him. He stood there, smiling stiffly, replaying the last 24 hours in his head.
A few days later, on his day off, he avoided Charlotte, feeling grubby. But like a magnet, he was drawn back. The moment Elizabeth left for work, he found himself knocking on the neighbour’s door.
Elizabeth noticed the shift—James was too helpful yet distant. She *knew* he was hiding something. Then, catching him sneaking glances at Charlotte from the window, it clicked.
The row erupted in the kitchen.
“Sleeping with her, are you?” she snapped, jabbing a finger toward the window.
James froze. Then came the babbling excuses, but it was too late. She threw him out without hesitation.
“Go on, then! Nice and cosy, just upstairs. Move in with her!”
He tried explaining, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening. As he lugged his bags out, his voice echoed in the stairwell:
“Charlotte… Let me in? She’s kicked me out…”
Charlotte, clearly stunned, paused—then opened the door.
Elizabeth’s tears weren’t from heartbreak, but sheer disappointment. She’d thought he’d fight for them. Instead, he’d walked away without a word. No effort. No shame.
Fine. Better alone than with someone who betrayed so easily. Tomorrow, she’d adopt a cat. Or a spaniel. At least they’d be loyal.
