The key clicked in the lock, and Emily slipped inside, careful not to make a sound. The hallway was dark except for a sliver of light creeping from the kitchen. Her parents were still awake—past midnight again. Lately, this had become routine: hushed conversations behind closed doors, sometimes dissolving into muffled arguments.
She kicked off her heels, dropped her laptop bag by the console table, and tiptoed to her room. Explaining why she was late wasn’t worth it, even if the reason was valid—her project deadline loomed, and the numbers wouldn’t balance.
Through the wall, their voices carried—low but tense.
“No, James, I can’t keep doing this,” her mother whispered, irritation lacing her words. “You promised last month.”
“Claire, be reasonable. Now isn’t the time,” her father countered, already on the defensive.
Emily sighed. Lately, her parents had been like this—arguing in secret, pretending everything was fine in front of her. They were in their fifties; she was long grown. Still, the cracks in their marriage stung.
She washed up and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her thoughts spiraled. Her brother, Daniel, lived in another city and rarely visited. If they divorced, who would stay with whom? Who’d get the house? And why were they hiding it?
The murmurs continued. Emily groped for her headphones—anything to drown out their secrets. Her hand knocked her phone to the carpet. As she picked it up, the voice recorder app flickered open. Her finger hovered.
What if… she recorded them? Just to know, instead of guessing. If she asked outright, they’d deflect, insist everything was fine.
Guilt pricked her. Eavesdropping was wrong, especially recording. But they were her family. Didn’t she deserve the truth?
Steeling herself, she hit record, placed the phone near the wall, and pulled the duvet over her head.
The next morning, both parents looked exhausted. Breakfast was stiff, punctuated only by polite questions.
“You came home late,” her mother remarked, pouring tea. “Work again?”
“Yeah, the project,” Emily nodded. “You two were up late—everything okay?”
“Just a film,” her mother brushed her off, not meeting her eyes.
Her father buried himself in the newspaper. “Don’t wait for me tonight. Client negotiations.”
Her mother pressed her lips together but said nothing.
The commute to the office stretched endlessly. Emily fought the urge to listen to the recording, but the tube was too crowded, too public. She’d wait till home.
The flat was empty when she returned—her mother had left a note saying she’d be out late with a friend. Her father, true to his word, was still at work. Perfect.
Curled on the sofa with a blanket, she pressed play.
At first, only fragments were audible, then the voices sharpened.
“—tell Emily?” Her father sounded strained.
“I don’t know,” her mother sighed. “She won’t understand. Not after all this time.”
“But she deserves to know.”
“Of course she does, but how do we explain why we kept it secret?”
Emily froze. What secret?
“Remember how it started?” Her father’s voice softened, almost smiling.
“How could I forget?” Her mother chuckled. “I thought it’d be temporary. Turned out to be for life.”
“—What a life, though.” He laughed. “Even when it got hard.”
“Especially when Emily came along.”
Her chest tightened. *Especially*? Had she been unwanted?
“But we made it,” her father said. “And she’s wonderful.”
“She is,” her mother agreed, pride threading her voice. Emily relaxed slightly. “But now we need to decide. I’m tired of the double life, James.”
*Double life?* Her blood ran cold. An affair? Both of them? The thought turned her stomach.
“Claire, let’s wait for Daniel. We’ll talk as a family.”
“Fine. But no more delays. We either change everything, or… I don’t know what.”
The recording cut off—maybe they’d left the kitchen, or the phone had stopped.
Emily sat stunned. What was happening to her family? Why wait for Daniel?
A thousand questions, no answers. Record them again? Too far. She’d call Daniel first. Or Aunt Margaret—her mother’s sister always leveled with her.
Decision made: tomorrow, she’d ring Daniel. This weekend, she’d visit Aunt Margaret.
Her brother didn’t pick up all day, finally calling back at dusk.
“Em! Sorry, left my phone in the van. What’s up?”
“When are you visiting?” she blurted.
“Planning to this weekend. Why?”
“Mum and Dad are acting weird. Whispering, pretending. They mentioned a *double life*.”
Silence.
“Dan?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Look, don’t overthink it. People have secrets, even parents.”
“You *know* something.”
“I… suspect. But if they’re not ready to talk, wait for me. Saturday, yeah?”
“Fine,” she relented. “Should I ask Aunt Margaret?”
“No,” he said too quickly. “Keep her out of it. This stays between us.”
The call left her more uneasy. If he knew, why hide it? And why shield Aunt Margaret? Affairs? Some scandal?
Her mother returned from her friend’s buoyant, cheeks flushed.
“Guess what? Lydia’s selling her flat! Moving to the countryside—sick of the noise.”
Emily nodded blankly.
“Would you ever want to live rural?” she asked suddenly.
Her mother stilled. “I don’t know… Sometimes, yes. The quiet, the air.”
“And Dad?”
“What about him?”
“Would he want to?”
“Ask him yourself.” Her mother’s tone turned sharp. “He’ll be late.”
To her surprise, her father came home early. She was making tea when the front door clicked.
“Dad, want some?”
“Please.” He loosened his tie. “Where’s Mum?”
“Watching a film. How was work?”
“Alright. Client agreed to terms.”
“That’s great.” She handed him a mug. “Hey… is it true you and Mum have something to tell me?”
He tensed. “What makes you say that?”
“Dan let it slip,” she lied. “Said you’d explain this weekend.”
Her father rubbed his temples. “We do. But wait for Daniel, alright? It’s better that way.”
“Is it bad? Are you splitting up?”
“What? No!” He looked genuinely shocked. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“You’re always arguing. Mum mentioned a double life.”
His face cycled through confusion, realization, then—oddly—relief.
“Em, you’ve misunderstood. No one’s splitting. Quite the opposite…” He trailed off. “Just wait till Saturday. I promise, it’s nothing bad.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.” He squeezed her hand. “Now drink your tea.”
That night, sleep eluded her. If not a divorce, what? Illness? Money trouble? Moving? The last thought chilled her. She’d just built her career here, made friends…
But why had he said *opposite*? Opposite of divorce was… a wedding? But they’d been married thirty years. Renewing vows?
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Still awake?” Her mother peered in.
“No. You?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Her mother sat on the bed. “What did you and Dad talk about?”
“Nothing much. Dan’s coming this weekend.”
“I know. He called.”
Silence.
“Mum… are you and Dad really okay?”
Her mother smiled strangely. “We are. Life just… throws surprises, even at our age. You deal with them.”
“Good or bad surprises?”
“Both.” She stroked Emily’s hair. “Don’t worry. You’ll see soon.”
Saturday arrived abruptly. Daniel burst in at noon, sun-tanned and loud, bearing gifts and tension.
“Family meeting time?” he joked as they gathered in the lounge.
Her parents exchanged a look.
“Yes,” her father said. “Your mother and I have news.”
Emily held her breath.
“We’re moving,” her mother announced.
“Where?”
“To Willowbrook. A village three hours away.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s our home,” her mother said simply. “Our real one.”
The truth spilled out. They’d bought the cottage fifteen years ago—just a holiday spot at first. Then weekends turned into expansions: a vegetable patch, a chicken coop, beehives.
“*Bees*?” Emily gaped.
“Twelve hives,” her father said proudly. “Best honey you’ll taste.”
“And we’ve got goats now,” her mother added. “Thinking of a cow next year.”
Emily stared. “You’re… farmers?”
“Seems so,” her mother laughed. “We’ve appleEmily looked around the idyllic countryside, the weight of their secret now a shared adventure, and for the first time in years, she felt her family whole again.
