Her thoughts twisted like spaghetti in her head, a simmering pot of jealousy and hurt bubbling in her chest. What had she done to deserve this? Hadn’t she loved her husband? Hadn’t she been a good wife and mother to their son?
But what happened next defied all logic.
Elizabeth had always believed she and James were soulmates. Ten happy years of marriage only proved it was meant to be.
Today, she was returning early from a business trip—one she’d been roped into just two days prior when her boss had summoned her.
*”Something’s gone pear-shaped in one of the branches, and you’re the only one who can sort it. Three days max. Pack your bags, Elizabeth, and don’t even think of making excuses,”* he’d said, barely glancing at her frown.
She’d had plans—none of which involved traipsing off to some dreary industrial town—but arguing with the boss was as useful as shouting at rain.
*”James, I’m off for three days. Make sure Tommy does his maths tutoring—no skiving, I’m paying good money for it. And for heaven’s sake, feed him proper meals. Not crisps and biscuits—there’s shepherd’s pie in the fridge.”*
*”Righto,”* James muttered, eyes glued to his phone.
*”That’s it?”* Elizabeth blinked. *”Not even a smidge of sadness I’m leaving?”*
*”It’s three days, love. We’ll survive,”* he said, finally looking up with a lazy grin. *”Though why they’re sending you is a mystery. Thought you’d done your time with all that.”*
*”Apparently, they need someone ‘experienced and firm,’”* she said, puffing up slightly.
On the train home—a day early, just to spite the miserable trip—she imagined the bliss of an empty flat. James at work, Tommy at school. She’d draw a bubble bath, slap on a face mask, maybe even nap. Luxury.
She even stopped by Waitrose for a bottle of merlot and James’s favourite caramel shortcake. Time to rekindle the spark—lately, he’d been glued to his phone, and she’d been buried in work.
But the moment she stepped inside, her plans turned to dust.
Foreign boots in the hallway. A garish faux-fur coat dangling in the closet, reeking of sickly-sweet perfume.
Her stomach lurched.
From the bedroom—laughter. A woman’s giggle.
Elizabeth’s blood boiled.
*Right. Time to arm myself.* She eyed the floor lamp by the sofa—too flimsy. Then spotted the champagne bottle on the coffee table.
Perfect.
She yanked the lamp cord—**CRASH!**
The bedroom door flew open. A woman wrapped in a bedsheet stumbled out.
*”Daphne?!”* Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. *”Oh, I KNOW that ghastly perfume!”*
*”Liz! I—I thought you were away!”* Daphne stammered.
*”Clearly. And I suppose James didn’t expect me either?”* Elizabeth seethed. *”Come out, darling! No use hiding now!”*
*”Liz, you’ve got it all wrong—”* Daphne babbled.
*”Save it. I want to hear HIS excuses.”*
*”It’s not James!”* Daphne blurted.
Elizabeth froze. *”…What?”*
*”It’s Robert.”*
*”ROBERT?!”*
She shoved past Daphne. And there he was—James’s brother, sheepishly buttoning his shirt.
*”What in the WORLD are you doing?!”* Elizabeth hissed. *”Tommy could’ve walked in!”*
On the kitchen sofa, the trio sat in disgrace.
*”We met at James’s birthday bash last year,”* Robert admitted. *”Then ran into each other after a row with Margaret. She said I wasn’t ambitious enough—so I, er, acted out.”*
*”And you—”* Elizabeth glared at Daphne, *”—a divorcee with a kid! You should know better!”*
*”Why HERE?”* Elizabeth demanded. *”There are hotels!”*
*”Small town, Liz. Everyone knows me,”* Robert mumbled. *”Council job. Didn’t want gossip.”*
After booting them out, Elizabeth scrubbed the flat raw—then called James.
*”Darling, I’m home early… and we’ve got BURGLARS!”* she trilled. *”Locked them in! Police are on their way!”*
*”CALL THEM OFF!”* James yelped.
*”Oh, but criminals must face justice!”*
He arrived in record time, pale as milk—only to find Elizabeth sipping tea, serene.
*”Robert says hi,”* she said sweetly. *”But if you EVER lend our keys again, you’ll be living in a cardboard box. Understood?”*
*”Crystal,”* James croaked.
*”Good. Now—tonight’s romantic dinner. And you’ll tell me your dreams. Properly. No phones.”*
*”Margaret… won’t find out?”*
*”Not from me,”* Elizabeth said. *”Now kiss me before Tommy gets home.”*
James obliged—grateful, for once, that his brother’s sins weren’t his own.
