The engine hummed soothingly, filling the car with the scent of leather and air freshener. Grey asphalt streaked with crisp white lines rushed beneath the wheels as the sun climbed lazily, promising a warm summer day. Emma leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Get some rest. We’ve got twenty minutes left,” said James, glancing at his wife.
“I’d rather be asleep at home in my own bed. It *is* a weekend, after all. You could’ve gone alone. They’re your friends, not mine,” Emma muttered without opening her eyes.
“What would I do there without you? Everyone’s bringing their wives. I thought you and Charlotte got on well. Besides, nothing beats a day out in the fresh air—better than lazing in bed.” James paused. “It’s been too long since we all got together. Remember how it used to be?” He snorted. “Oh—Tom’s bringing his new wife. Did I tell you? No? Wonder who finally managed to tie him down.”
Emma sat up straight, eyes flicking open as she processed the news.
“You’ve seen him already?”
“Yeah, but just briefly. No time for a proper chat. I miss the old days—sitting by the fire with a guitar, just talking rubbish.” He sighed.
“And now you’ll be doing it every weekend,” Emma grumbled.
“Oh, come off it. What’s wrong with that? We’ve been mates since uni. When your mum was ill, Tom didn’t hesitate to lend us the money for her surgery.”
Emma leaned back again.
“Fair. Tom’s a good bloke. But Oliver and Charlotte…”
“What’s wrong with them?” James frowned.
“It’s like they’re playing at being married, not actually *being* married. Something’s off.”
“Never noticed. They seem fine to me. Funny story—Charlotte dated Tom at uni. Proper lovebirds, everyone thought they’d marry straight after graduation. Then it all went wrong. She ended up with Oliver instead.”
“You never told me that.” Emma turned to face him.
“It was years ago. Ancient history.” James fell silent.
The engine’s steady hum lulled Emma’s eyes shut again. She jolted awake when the car bumped onto a dirt road. Tall pines lined the path like a fortress wall, blocking out the sunlight.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here,” Emma breathed.
“Told you.” Pride warmed James’s voice, as if he’d had a hand in the scenery himself.
The gate to the property stood open—they were expected. James parked beside two other cars near the fence. Everyone was already here. Tom hurried toward them, arms wide as if he meant to hug the whole car.
“About time! We nearly left without you.” Tom clapped James on the back. “Looking sharp, mate.” He winked at Emma. “Why’d you bring so much food? We’ve got enough to last a week!”
Laden with bags, the three of them walked toward the house. A barbecue stood ready in the clearing, charcoal waiting beside it. In the shade of an apple tree, a wooden table was set with woven chairs.
Charlotte appeared in the doorway with a young woman, both arms full of cushions and blankets.
“Oh! James, Emma, hi!” Charlotte called.
The air filled with laughter and overlapping chatter.
“Right, ladies,” Tom announced, “you lot sort things here. We’re off fishing.”
Charlotte groaned. “Really?”
“We won’t be long. Just a bit of bloke time. Don’t miss us too much.” Tom grinned. “We’ve done our bit—marinated the meat, set up the grill, hauled the supplies. The rest is up to you.”
Once the men had gone, Charlotte plonked a bottle of red wine on the table. “Shall we toast to introductions?”
“I’d rather have white,” piped up Lily, the youngest and newest of the group. “Red gives me a headache.”
“Brought some just for you.” Charlotte smiled and ducked inside.
“You know her?” Emma asked Lily, nodding toward the house.
“Yeah. She’s dropped by a couple of times.”
“Really?” Emma raised an eyebrow. From the car conversation, she’d gathered Lily and Tom had only just returned from their honeymoon.
“Two weeks ago,” Lily confirmed.
“Ta-da!” Charlotte reappeared with a bottle of white.
The women sipped their wine and debated the menu. Charlotte took charge—too forcefully, Emma thought, as if marking territory. *I was here first. Know your place.*
Emma didn’t like it. The way Charlotte talked down to Lily was obvious. But she stayed quiet. Easier to watch and learn.
When the table was set and salads prepared, the women relaxed, waiting for the men. And what do three women talk about? Men, of course.
“Lily, keep your eyes open. Don’t get too comfortable,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “Your husband’s a proper flirt. Lost count of the women he’s brought around. They all cheat, love.”
“Why scare her like that?” Emma cut in.
“Does your husband cheat?” Lily fired back.
Cheeky. Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Emma steered the conversation away. “If they all cheat, what’s the point in divorcing? You’d just trade one problem for another. I’ve known James forever—we fit. Who knows what the next bloke would be like?”
“Not all men cheat,” Lily said firmly.
Charlotte scoffed. “You’re barely out of nappies. Wait till the honeymoon phase wears off. You’ll change your tune.”
“Cheaters are just insecure. They need validation—”
“Listen to her!” Charlotte rolled her eyes at Emma. “Just hatched and already schooling the hens.”
A voice cut in. “Ladies, play nice.”
They whipped around to find Oliver behind them.
“Where’s the fish?” Charlotte demanded.
“Who said we were bringing any back?” Tom smirked. “We said we were going fishing—never promised a catch.”
The mood lightened as laughter broke out. The men changed, then got to work at the grill while the women brought out salads and snacks.
As the sun dipped behind the pines, the tipsy guests sang along to a guitar. Tom’s rich baritone led the chorus of *”You’re the One”*, and Lily gazed at him, oblivious to anything else.
But Emma noticed the way Charlotte watched Tom. *She’s not over him.*
Oliver raised his glass. “This is brilliant. Missed this. Love you all—let’s toast to friendship!”
But the bottles were empty.
“I’ll grab more.” Charlotte sprang up and dashed inside.
“Don’t forget Lily’s white!” Emma called after her. “I’ll help.” She followed, intent on scolding Charlotte privately. No need for a scene in front of Lily.
Emma tiptoed up the porch steps, unsure why she was being so quiet. Inside, she turned toward the kitchen and froze. Charlotte was fumbling with the white wine bottle, then pulled a small vial from her pocket.
Emma lunged forward. “What the hell are you doing?”
Charlotte gasped. Pills scattered across the table. “It’s just sleeping tablets!”
“You’re poisoning her? Have you lost it?”
“Keep your voice down!” Charlotte peered out the window. “I just want her out of the way. One night with Tom—that’s all.”
“You still love him? Are you *seeing* him?”
“Since uni. He’s *mine*.”
“Then why marry Oliver?”
“I was stupid. Wanted revenge. Got pregnant—Tom refused the baby. The abortion went wrong. I can’t have children now.”
Emma’s anger dissolved. “God, Charlotte. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Charlotte’s voice cracked. “I thought—if she slept, I could have him one last time. But I can’t let go.”
As she scooped up the pills, Emma snatched the bottle. “You’ll kill her with this dose!”
“Good riddance.”
Lily appeared in the doorway. “The men want to know what’s taking so long.”
Charlotte grabbed a red bottle. “Stubborn cork.” She shoved it into Lily’s hands and rushed back to clean up.
*Covering her tracks*, Emma realized. She steered Lily outside.
Mosquitoes swarmed at dusk. More drinks, more songs, but Lily kept yawning. Tom led her inside, and the others followed.
Emma frowned. Lily hadn’t touched her wine—*playing along?* The spiked glass sat untouched.
Later, as Emma cleared the table, she dumped the tainted wine into the bushes. Charlotte chattered nervously about future meetups, not letting Emma get a word in.
“Lock up. I’m dead on my feet.” Charlotte fake-yawned and vanished.
Upstairs, James was already snoring. Emma lay beside him, but sleep wouldn’t come. The pills, Charlotte’s confession—it all replayed in her mind.
A creak outside the door. Emma slippedShe opened the door to find Lily standing there, eyes wide with fear, clutching a kitchen knife, and whispered, “She won’t hurt you—not tonight, not ever again.”
