**Diary Entry**
The car sped through the quiet streets of London in the dead of night. Inside sat a man and a woman. To any passerby, they might have looked like a married couple rushing home to their sleeping children.
“Can you go any faster?” the woman asked, her voice tight with nerves.
“It’s not safe. The roads might look empty, but they aren’t. When are you going to tell him about us? How much longer do we sneak around like this? Just say the words, and it’ll be easier for everyone,” the man replied, gripping the wheel harder.
“Easier? For who? For us, maybe—but what about Emily? She loves her father. And he adores her. What happens to them when they find out? It’s cruel.”
“And lying all this time isn’t cruel? You think he doesn’t suspect? I’m done sharing you with him. If you won’t tell him, I will. Man to man.”
“Please, don’t. I’ll do it. Just give me time.” Her hand flew to his on the gearstick, squeezing tightly. “I love you too. But don’t push me. I promise, I’ll talk to him soon.”
The man turned, caught her gaze, and leaned in for a kiss—
A black SUV tore around the bend, slamming into them with crushing force. Her scream was lost beneath the roar of twisting metal.
***
The shrill ring of his phone dragged James from a restless sleep. For a moment, he lingered in that hazy space between dreams and reality before jolting awake.
Sophie had called at eight that evening, saying she’d be late—a friend was in trouble, she couldn’t leave her alone. She’d explain later. He hadn’t even had time to ask which friend or what kind of trouble. He could’ve called around, checked with the few numbers he knew—but that felt humiliating, for both of them.
The doubts had started creeping in months ago. Too many late nights, sudden weekend outings, too many friends with “emergencies” needing her help.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table. An unknown number. His gut twisted.
“Hello?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Detective Harris here. Are you the husband of Sophie Elizabeth Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife’s been in an accident… She’s been taken to St. Thomas’ Hospital in critical condition.”
“Is she alive?” James’s voice shook.
“Yes, but—”
“Daddy, is that Mummy?” Ten-year-old Emily stood in the doorway, eyes wide with fright.
James swallowed hard.
“No. It’s… Mummy’s in hospital. There was an accident.”
“Is she dead?”
“No, no, she’s alive,” he said quickly.
“But you asked—” Emily flung herself at him, arms squeezing his neck so tightly he could barely breathe. “Let’s go see her. I’m scared.”
Gently, he peeled her off and sat her down beside him.
“We can’t, love. Visiting hours are over. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Now, back to bed—Mummy would hate us turning up all tired, wouldn’t she?” He forced a smile.
Emily nodded and shuffled back to her room. He lay back down. Dawn was already creeping through the curtains. He’d glanced at the time on his phone before answering—2:30 AM.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer against his palm.
***
The next morning, they drove to the hospital in silence. James left Emily in the corridor and stepped into the doctor’s office.
“Her husband?” A man about his age asked.
“Yes. How is she?”
“We’ve operated. Severe head trauma, multiple fractures… She’s in a coma.”
“How did it happen? She doesn’t drive.”
The doctor shrugged. “All I know is another vehicle hit the car she was in. Both drivers died instantly. Your wife was lucky—though I won’t lie, it’s still touch and go. But she’s young, strong. There’s hope.”
“Can I see her? My daughter’s outside.”
“Up to you. She doesn’t look… well. But sometimes family helps more than medicine.”
“Who was with her in the car?” James asked as they walked to the ICU.
“That’s a question for the police. Just a warning—don’t stay long.” The doctor opened the door.
James barely recognised Sophie. Bandages covered most of her face, the rest mottled with bruises. Her wedding ring glinted on her lifeless hand.
“Mummy!” Emily reached for her, stroking her fingers. “Is she asleep?”
“Yes, love. The doctors fixed her up. We can only stay a minute.”
They drove home in silence. James rang Sophie’s mother, Margaret, and asked her to come stay with Emily—he needed to get to work.
Margaret arrived red-eyed, clutching a damp handkerchief.
“Maybe I should take Emily for a bit? Give you space,” she offered, wiping her nose.
Emily nodded.
“I warned her,” Margaret muttered, then flinched at James’s sharp look.
“What did you warn her about?”
She shook her head, but he pressed. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Forgive me, James. I told her this would end badly. She wouldn’t listen—kept saying she loved him, couldn’t live without him…” Her voice broke.
James’s chest ached. He’d noticed the changes in Sophie but refused to face them.
“Who is he?”
“Daniel Reeves. He’s loved her since secondary school. Went abroad for years, then came back and—well.”
Reeves. James had seen him once. Sometimes, if he had time, he’d pick Sophie up from work. Two months ago, he’d pulled into the car park and spotted her with a man. The way they looked at each other—no one needed to explain *that*.
He’d gotten out, approached them. Sophie had panicked, then forced a smile. Introduced them—Daniel, an old school friend. The men had sized each other up, neither offering a hand. Instant dislike.
“Lucky you’re here!” Sophie had chirped, linking arms with James. “Emily’s birthday’s coming up, wanted to check gifts…”
Daniel had vanished by the time they drove off. The whole ride home, Sophie had babbled nervously.
Now, the truth crushed him. All those “friend emergencies”—lies. She’d been with *him*. How long? Had they laughed about James? Planned a future?
Margaret’s voice pulled him back. “We’ll visit Sophie tomorrow. Will they let us in?”
James nodded. “The doctor said talking might help.”
But what then? Play the betrayed husband? What if Sophie never woke up? Her lover was dead. James was alive. They had Emily.
“Just wake up,” he whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest.”
***
The next day, during lunch, he slipped back to the hospital. Emily and Margaret were already there when he arrived. Once they left, he studied Sophie’s battered face, then forced out the words: *I’m trying to forgive you. Come back to us.*
He wanted to say he loved her. Couldn’t.
The following morning, the hospital called—Sophie had woken up. He rushed over, but as the building loomed ahead, doubt gripped him. Would he see grief for Daniel in her eyes?
Weak-kneed, he walked in. The doctor warned him—she was still frail, likely to drift off again. No stress.
James approached the bed. “Sophie.”
Her eyes fluttered open, fixing on him.
“I was so scared when I heard.” His voice cracked. “Your mum and Emily will be here soon.”
She stared, unblinking. Pain, guilt—something else he couldn’t name—flickered in her gaze.
“Don’t torture yourself. I know. The doctor says you’ll recover.” He looked away, unable to bear her expression. “We’ll get through this. You’re alive—that’s all that matters. Emily needs you. *I* need you.”
A small voice shattere**Diary Entry**
The car sped through the quiet streets of London in the dead of night. Inside sat a man and a woman. To any passerby, they might have looked like a married couple rushing home to their sleeping children.
“Can you go any faster?” the woman asked, her voice tight with nerves.
“It’s not safe. The roads might look empty, but they aren’t. When are you going to tell him about us? How much longer do we sneak around like this? Just say the words, and it’ll be easier for everyone,” the man replied, gripping the wheel harder.
“Easier? For who? For us, maybe—but what about Emily? She loves her father. And he adores her. What happens to them when they find out? It’s cruel.”
“And lying all this time isn’t cruel? You think he doesn’t suspect? I’m done sharing you with him. If you won’t tell him, I will. Man to man.”
“Please, don’t. I’ll do it. Just give me time.” Her hand flew to his on the gearstick, squeezing tightly. “I love you too. But don’t push me. I promise, I’ll talk to him soon.”
The man turned, caught her gaze, and leaned in for a kiss—
A black SUV tore around the bend, slamming into them with crushing force. Her scream was lost beneath the roar of twisting metal.
***
The shrill ring of his phone dragged James from a restless sleep. For a moment, he lingered in that hazy space between dreams and reality before jolting awake.
Sophie had called at eight that evening, saying she’d be late—a friend was in trouble, she couldn’t leave her alone. She’d explain later. He hadn’t even had time to ask which friend or what kind of trouble. He could’ve called around, checked with the few numbers he knew—but that felt humiliating, for both of them.
The doubts had started creeping in months ago. Too many late nights, sudden weekend outings, too many friends with “emergencies” needing her help.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table. An unknown number. His gut twisted.
“Hello?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Detective Harris here. Are you the husband of Sophie Elizabeth Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife’s been in an accident… She’s been taken to St. Thomas’ Hospital in critical condition.”
“Is she alive?” James’s voice shook.
“Yes, but—”
“Daddy, is that Mummy?” Ten-year-old Emily stood in the doorway, eyes wide with fright.
James swallowed hard.
“No. It’s… Mummy’s in hospital. There was an accident.”
“Is she dead?”
“No, no, she’s alive,” he said quickly.
“But you asked—” Emily flung herself at him, arms squeezing his neck so tightly he could barely breathe. “Let’s go see her. I’m scared.”
Gently, he peeled her off and sat her down beside him.
“We can’t, love. Visiting hours are over. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Now, back to bed—Mummy would hate us turning up all tired, wouldn’t she?” He forced a smile.
Emily nodded and shuffled back to her room. He lay back down. Dawn was already creeping through the curtains. He’d glanced at the time on his phone before answering—2:30 AM.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer against his palm.
***
The next morning, they drove to the hospital in silence. James left Emily in the corridor and stepped into the doctor’s office.
“Her husband?” A man about his age asked.
“Yes. How is she?”
“We’ve operated. Severe head trauma, multiple fractures… She’s in a coma.”
“How did it happen? She doesn’t drive.”
The doctor shrugged. “All I know is another vehicle hit the car she was in. Both drivers died instantly. Your wife was lucky—though I won’t lie, it’s still touch and go. But she’s young, strong. There’s hope.”
“Can I see her? My daughter’s outside.”
“Up to you. She doesn’t look… well. But sometimes family helps more than medicine.”
“Who was with her in the car?” James asked as they walked to the ICU.
“That’s a question for the police. Just a warning—don’t stay long.” The doctor opened the door.
James barely recognised Sophie. Bandages covered most of her face, the rest mottled with bruises. Her wedding ring glinted on her lifeless hand.
“Mummy!” Emily reached for her, stroking her fingers. “Is she asleep?”
“Yes, love. The doctors fixed her up. We can only stay a minute.”
They drove home in silence. James rang Sophie’s mother, Margaret, and asked her to come stay with Emily—he needed to get to work.
Margaret arrived red-eyed, clutching a damp handkerchief.
“Maybe I should take Emily for a bit? Give you space,” she offered, wiping her nose.
Emily nodded.
“I warned her,” Margaret muttered, then flinched at James’s sharp look.
“What did you warn her about?”
She shook her head, but he pressed. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Forgive me, James. I told her this would end badly. She wouldn’t listen—kept saying she loved him, couldn’t live without him…” Her voice broke.
James’s chest ached. He’d noticed the changes in Sophie but refused to face them.
“Who is he?”
“Daniel Reeves. He’s loved her since secondary school. Went abroad for years, then came back and—well.”
Reeves. James had seen him once. Sometimes, if he had time, he’d pick Sophie up from work. Two months ago, he’d pulled into the car park and spotted her with a man. The way they looked at each other—no one needed to explain *that*.
He’d gotten out, approached them. Sophie had panicked, then forced a smile. Introduced them—Daniel, an old school friend. The men had sized each other up, neither offering a hand. Instant dislike.
“Lucky you’re here!” Sophie had chirped, linking arms with James. “Emily’s birthday’s coming up, wanted to check gifts…”
Daniel had vanished by the time they drove off. The whole ride home, Sophie had babbled nervously.
Now, the truth crushed him. All those “friend emergencies”—lies. She’d been with *him*. How long? Had they laughed about James? Planned a future?
Margaret’s voice pulled him back. “We’ll visit Sophie tomorrow. Will they let us in?”
James nodded. “The doctor said talking might help.”
But what then? Play the betrayed husband? What if Sophie never woke up? Her lover was dead. James was alive. They had Emily.
“Just wake up,” he whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest.”
***
The next day, during lunch, he slipped back to the hospital. Emily and Margaret were already there when he arrived. Once they left, he studied Sophie’s battered face, then forced out the words: *I’m trying to forgive you. Come back to us.*
He wanted to say he loved her. Couldn’t.
The following morning, the hospital called—Sophie had woken up. He rushed over, but as the building loomed ahead, doubt gripped him. Would he see grief for Daniel in her eyes?
Weak-kneed, he walked in. The doctor warned him—she was still frail, likely to drift off again. No stress.
James approached the bed. “Sophie.”
Her eyes fluttered open, fixing on him.
“I was so scared when I heard.” His voice cracked. “Your mum and Emily will be here soon.”
She stared, unblinking. Pain, guilt—something else he couldn’t name—flickered in her gaze.
“Don’t torture yourself. I know. The doctor says you’ll recover.” He looked away, unable to bear her expression. “We’ll get through this. You’re alive—that’s all that matters. Emily needs you. *I* need you.”
A small voice shattered the silence—Emily barrelled into the room, throwing herself onto the bed with a tearful “Mummy!”—and as Sophie’s fingers weakly tangled in their daughter’s hair, James exhaled, realizing that forgiveness, like love, wasn’t a choice but a slow, inevitable surrender.
