Well-Earned Happiness
Emily returned from work, changed into comfy clothes, and sipped her tea. It was too early to start dinner—she had time. Christopher wouldn’t be home for another two hours. She picked up a book, stretched out on the sofa, and sighed in relief. A day in heels was exhausting.
Emily was a primary school teacher. Neatly groomed with a practical haircut, she dressed in smart blazers and understated dresses—part of the school’s staff dress code. Every day, she met with parents from all walks of life. Some struggled financially; others were well-off. She made sure never to overshadow the less fortunate or fade beside the more affluent. Over the years, she had mastered speaking clearly and softly, never raising her voice. Both children and parents respected her.
A few pages in, her eyelids grew heavy. She let them close and drifted off, only waking when her book hit the floor. Rubbing her eyes, she bent to pick it up—just as the doorbell rang. Christopher had his own key, and it was too early for him anyway. The bell sounded again—a timid, short ring.
Emily checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothed her tousled hair, and opened the door.
Standing there was Daniel, Christopher’s friend and colleague.
“Hello, Emily.”
“Hi, Dan. Christopher isn’t home yet,” she said.
“I know. Actually… I came to see you.” Daniel shifted awkwardly.
“Come in.” She stepped aside, letting him enter.
He hung his coat on the rack, tucked his scarf into the sleeve, and kicked off his shoes. Emily watched, wondering what had brought him here. Had something happened to Christopher?
Daniel adjusted his jacket and waited, expecting an invitation further inside.
“Go on through to the kitchen,” Emily said.
The kitchen, as everyone knew, was the best place for conversations.
Daniel sat at the table while Emily turned on the kettle. It hummed to life instantly.
“Tea or coffee?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Tea would be great,” he replied.
Emily fetched a cup. The biscuit tin was already on the table. The kettle whistled sharply, boiling in no time.
She poured his tea and pushed the biscuits toward him before sitting opposite.
“Aren’t you having any?” Daniel asked, clearly uncomfortable.
“You didn’t come here just to chat. What’s wrong? Is it Christopher?”
“Christopher’s fine,” Daniel muttered, pretending to examine a biscuit.
“Spit it out,” Emily said impatiently.
“I’ve wanted to tell you for a while…” He unwrapped the biscuit slowly. “You’re a smart, lovely woman—brilliant at running a home. I never wanted to interfere, but I have to open your eyes about Christopher.” He popped the biscuit into his mouth.
“Well? Do I have to drag it out of you?”
“Look, I don’t enjoy this…” He gulped his tea loudly.
“Just say it.”
“Christopher’s having an affair,” Daniel blurted, then coughed, choking on crumbs.
Emily half-rose, thumped his back, then sat back down—and laughed.
“Did you hear me? Don’t you believe me? Or did you already know?” Daniel looked stricken.
“Oh, I thought something awful had happened,” she said, still chuckling.
Now it was Daniel’s turn to be baffled.
“So what? Christopher’s handsome, in his prime,” Emily said. “Why do you care? Aren’t you supposed to be friends? Friends don’t betray each other. How many times have *you* strayed?” Her gaze was icy.
“Wrecked your own marriage, now here to wreck mine?” She stood, furious.
“I just wanted you to know. You do everything for him—cooking, cleaning, baking. You’re perfect. And he doesn’t appreciate you,” Daniel stammered, flushed either from embarrassment or the hot tea.
“Had your fun? Now leave. Christopher will be home soon.”
“I’ll go. But think about what I said. Really think.”
“Off you go, then, saviour,” Emily urged.
Daniel hurried to the hall, fumbling with his shoes. No shoehorn in sight, he grunted as he tugged them on. Emily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching impatiently.
Finally shoed, he grabbed his coat and left—his scarf trailing behind from the sleeve. He turned to say something, but Emily shut the door in his face.
Back in the kitchen, she dumped his half-finished tea in the sink and sank into a chair.
She and Christopher had met at the theatre. During intermission, the bar queue stretched endlessly. Emily and her friend joined the back.
“God, I’m parched. Think we’ll get served?” her friend fretted.
“Wait here,” Emily said, heading to the front.
Near the counter, she spotted two men. Quietly, she asked if they’d buy her a bottle of water.
One nodded, bought it, and handed it over, refusing her money. Emily thanked him and rejoined her friend. They took turns drinking straight from the bottle.
When they returned to their seats, Christopher kept glancing back at her. Their eyes met—Emily quickly looked away. After the show, he and his friend waited outside.
“Enjoy the play?” asked the man who’d bought her water.
“Yes,” Emily said.
“I’m Christopher. This is Mark.”
They introduced themselves. The evening was cooling as they walked through the quiet streets, first in a group, then pairing off naturally.
Christopher had been working for two years after university; Emily had just graduated from teacher training college.
She couldn’t recall what they’d talked about that night, but she remembered the joy, the excitement—the happiness of walking beside him.
Mark and her friend fizzled out. But she and Christopher stayed together. They married in spring, got a small flat from his company, and had a son a year later. Two years after that, a daughter. The company upgraded them to a two-bedroom place. It was bliss.
Later, they bought a bigger flat with help from their parents. Life wasn’t always easy, but they were young, weathering storms, making up, and happy. It felt like it would last forever.
Their son moved to London after uni, focused on his career. Their daughter married young, renting her own place, no rush for children.
Now, Emily stared blankly. She and Christopher had grown into one another over the years. The kids were independent. Life stretched ahead—they weren’t even fifty yet.
Then Daniel arrived, stirring trouble. Jealous of their happiness. Others were too—friends divorced and remarried, but she and Christopher remained solid.
Daniel’s marriage ended a decade ago. His ex-wife, Claire, had been lively and fun—Emily liked her. After the split, she refused to entertain Daniel’s parade of new women. He’d made passes at Emily, too. She shut him down for good.
*Is this revenge? Or is there nothing to it? How would Daniel even know? Flirting isn’t cheating. Even if Christopher did stray… so what? Men get crushes. It doesn’t mean he’d leave. I enjoy attention too—that dad from school confessed his feelings last month. But it’s just harmless fun. I won’t let this ruin us. The kids adore him. I couldn’t live without him. Not after all these years…*
She decided to say nothing—to act normal. For now.
Dinner was ready when Christopher arrived. She pushed her food around, appetite gone.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Just tired.”
He thanked her, left to watch TV. She washed up, gazing around the cosy kitchen—walls that had witnessed laughter, tears, arguments, and make-ups. How many childhood secrets lived here? Could she really throw it all away?
For days, she wrestled with herself, pretending nothing had changed. Christopher acted normally. If he stayed late, he always called.
Then she cracked—went to his office. Why? She didn’t know. Kids behaved differently at home and school. Maybe men did too.
“Emily? What’s wrong?” Christopher looked alarmed when she appeared.
“Nothing. Lessons were cancelled. Had lunch?”
“Yeah, just now.” He was still startled.
“I thought we’d eat together. I was nearby—wanted to pick a dress for my birthday.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. *He forgot.*
“I popped in to ask what you want for dinner,” she said quickly.
Before he could answer, a petite woman peered in. “Busy? I’ll come back.” She left immediately.
Emily deflated. “I’ll go. Don’t want to interrupt.”
“Emily!” he called, but she waved him off.
In the corridor, she cursed herself for coming.
“Wait!” The woman caught up. “You’re Emily, Christopher’s wife.”
Silent, Emily waited.
“Can we talk? There’s a café nearby—we go there sometimes. The staff, I mean.”
The place was nearly empty—lunch over, evening crowds yet to come. They sat at a back table.
Emily avoided staring butShe looked up at Christopher as they stood together in the kitchen, realizing that love wasn’t about never facing trials, but choosing each other through every storm—and in that moment, she knew their happiness was worth every battle fought together.
