The key turned in the lock, and Emily, trying not to make a sound, slipped into the flat. The hallway was dark, save for a sliver of light seeping from the kitchen. Her parents were awake again, though it was well past midnight. Lately, this had become routine—long hushed conversations behind closed doors, usually quiet but occasionally escalating into muffled arguments.
Emily kicked off her heels, set her laptop bag on the sideboard, and tiptoed down the corridor to her room. She didn’t want to explain why she was late, even though her reason was valid—the work project just wouldn’t come together, and deadlines loomed.
Through the wall, she could hear their muffled voices.
“No, James, I can’t keep doing this,” Mum said softly, though irritation laced her tone. “You promised last month.”
“Margaret, be reasonable—now’s not the time,” Dad replied, clearly making excuses again.
Emily sighed tiredly. Lately, her parents were always arguing about something, yet they pretended everything was fine around her. Sure, they were in their fifties, and she was long grown, but it still stung to realise something was off in their marriage.
She changed, washed up, and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her thoughts circled the same worries. Her older brother, Thomas, lived in another city and rarely visited. If her parents divorced—who would stay with whom? Who’d get the flat? And why were they hiding their problems?
The voices next door didn’t stop. Emily reached for her headphones on the nightstand—maybe drowning out their secrets with music would help. Her hand brushed her phone, sending it clattering to the carpet. As she picked it up, her finger accidentally opened the voice recorder app. She hovered over the screen.
What if… she recorded them? Just to find out what was happening, rather than guessing. If she asked outright, they’d brush her off with the usual “everything’s fine.”
A pang of guilt pricked at her. Eavesdropping was wrong, let alone recording. But then again, these were her parents, her family. She had a right to know if something serious was going on.
Resolved, she hit record, placed the phone closer to the wall, and pulled the duvet over her head.
The next morning, as she got ready for work, she noticed both her parents looked exhausted. Over breakfast, they barely spoke, exchanging only pleasantries.
“You were late last night,” Mum remarked, pouring tea. “Work again?”
“Yeah, finishing the project,” Emily nodded. “Why were you two up?”
“Oh, just watching a film,” Mum waved it off, eyes avoiding hers.
Dad buried himself in the newspaper, pretending to be engrossed.
“Don’t wait for me at dinner,” he said without looking up. “Client meetings—might run late.”
Mum pressed her lips together but said nothing.
The entire commute to the office, Emily battled the urge to listen to the recording. But the Tube was too crowded, and guilt gnawed at her. She decided to wait until evening.
The day dragged. Finally home, she found a note—Mum had gone to a friend’s and wouldn’t be back till late. Dad, as promised, was working late. Perfect.
Curled on the sofa under a blanket, she pressed play.
At first, only fragments were audible, then the voices sharpened.
“…tell Emily?” Dad sounded anxious.
“I don’t know,” Mum sighed. “I’m afraid she won’t understand. After all these years…”
“But she has a right to know.”
“Of course she does, but how do we explain why we kept quiet so long?”
Emily froze. What were they hiding? What truth?
“Remember how it started?” Dad asked suddenly, a smile in his voice.
“Like it was yesterday,” Mum chuckled. “I thought it’d be temporary. Turned out… it was for life.”
“What a life it’s been,” Dad huffed. “Though not always easy.”
“Especially when Emily came along.”
Her heart clenched. “Especially”? Was she unwanted? Or was it something else?
“But we managed,” Dad continued. “And she’s turned out wonderfully.”
“Yes,” Mum’s voice brimmed with pride, and Emily relaxed slightly. “But now we need to decide what’s next. I’m tired of this double life, James.”
Double life? Emily went cold. Was one of them having an affair? Or both? The thought made her nauseous.
“Margaret, let’s at least wait for Thomas. We’ll talk as a family.”
“Fine,” Mum agreed. “But no more delays after. We either change things… or I don’t know what.”
The recording cut off—maybe they’d left the kitchen, or the phone stopped.
Emily sat stunned. What was happening to her family? What double life? Why wait for Thomas to explain?
A thousand questions, no answers. Record them again? But that felt too far. She should call Thomas. Or Aunt Caroline, always frank with her.
Decision made: tomorrow, she’d ring Thomas, then visit Aunt Caroline this weekend.
Her brother didn’t answer all day, finally calling back that evening.
“Em! Sorry, was on-site, left my phone in the car,” he said, cheerful as ever.
“Tom, when are you visiting?” she cut to the chase.
“This weekend, why?”
“Parents are acting weird. Whispering at night, pretending everything’s fine. Mentioned a ‘double life.’”
A pause.
“Tom?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he cleared his throat. “Look, don’t overthink it. People have secrets, even parents.”
“So you know?”
“I… suspect,” he hedged. “But if they’re not ready to talk, wait. I’ll be there Saturday, we’ll figure it out.”
“Fine,” she relented. “Should I see Aunt Caroline?”
“No,” he said too quickly. “Keep her out of it. Let’s handle this ourselves.”
The call left her more uneasy. So Thomas *did* know. And wanted to shield Aunt Caroline. Maybe it *was* infidelity? A scandal they wanted contained.
That evening, Mum returned from her friend’s in high spirits, cheeks flushed.
“Guess what? Fiona’s selling her flat!” she announced. “Moving to Cornwall. Says she’s sick of the city.”
Emily nodded, unsure how to react.
“Would you ever move to the countryside?” she blurted.
Mum hesitated. “Maybe. Sometimes it sounds lovely. Quiet, fresh air, a garden.”
“And Dad?”
“What about him?”
“Would he want to?”
“Ask him yourself,” Mum’s tone turned serious. “He’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
Luckily, Dad came home early. Emily was making tea when the front door clicked shut.
“Dad, want some?” she called.
“Please,” he answered, appearing moments later, loosening his tie. “Where’s Mum?”
“In her room, watching something.” She grabbed another mug. “How was work?”
“Fine,” he sank into a chair. “Client agreed to our terms, so the project’s a go.”
“Great.” She set his tea down. “Dad… is it true you and Mum have something important to tell me?”
He startled. “Why?”
“Tom let it slip,” she lied. “Said you’d explain when he visits.”
James rubbed his brow. “There is something. But let’s wait for Tom, alright? It’s better that way.”
“Is it bad?” she pressed. “Are you splitting up?”
“What? No!” He looked genuinely shocked. “Where’d you get that?”
“You’re always whispering, arguing. Mum mentioned a ‘double life.’”
Confusion, then realisation, then relief flickered across his face.
“Em, you’ve got it all wrong,” he sighed. “No one’s splitting up. Quite the opposite—” He stopped. “Just wait till the weekend, okay? Promise, it’s nothing bad.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” He squeezed her hand. “Now drink your tea before it’s cold.”
That night, sleep evaded her. She pieced together fragments—phrases, tones, evasions. If not divorce, what? Illness? Money trouble? Moving? The last thought unsettled her. She’d just started her career, made friends, loved London.
Still, something didn’t add up. Why “the opposite”? Opposite of divorce was… marriage? But they’d been married thirty years. Renewing vows? A second honeymoon?
A soft knock interrupted her musings.
“Awake?” Mum peered in.
“Yeah. You?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Mum perched on her bed. “What did you and Dad talk about?”
“Nothing much. Work. Tom’s visiting.”
“I know. He called.”
Silence.
“Mum… are you and Dad okay?” she finally asked.
Margaret smiled oddly. “Perfectly. It’s just… life throws surprises, even at our age. And we must decide how to face them.”
“Good surprises or bad?”
“Both.” Mum stroked her hair. “Don’t fret, love. You’ll know soon.”
With a kiss to her forehead, she left, deepening Emily’s confusion.
Saturday arrived too soon. Tom appeared at lunch, tanned, loud, bearing gifts—and an unfamiliar tension.
“Family meeting time?” he joked as they settled in the lounge post-lunch.
Their parents exchanged glances.
“Suppose it is,” DadEmily stepped into the garden, breathing in the scent of lavender and honey, realising that sometimes the greatest adventures begin just beyond the city lights.
