It was hard to make a clean break.
For the summer holidays, Emily and her husband took the kids to the countryside, just outside their town in Cornwall. They visited every weekend, sometimes just her. The village was only a few miles away, so if Anthony was working, Emily could catch the bus straight after work on Friday.
She might not have gone every weekend, but she missed the kids, and her father had suffered a stroke—she wanted to help her mother with the garden. That Friday, she planned to leave right after work.
“Tony, I’m heading straight to the village after my shift, so help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Come pick me up Sunday—you’ve got the day off, right? Strange you’re working Saturday…”
“Absolute chaos at the office,” her husband muttered. “The boss said we’ll get overtime.”
Emily was the head accountant at her firm. That Friday, she rushed to finish a report, but in her haste, she made mistakes and sent it straight to senior management without double-checking.
The next afternoon, her boss, Robert Callaghan, called.
“Emily, what on earth did you do with this report? I’ve got people breathing down my neck. Fix it now, or no bonus.”
“I’m in the countryside, Robert. Can it wait till tomorrow? I don’t even know what—” He cut her off.
“I don’t care where you are. Fix it.” His shouting was so loud her mother heard from across the room.
“Fine, I’ll head back now.”
“Love, who’s yelling like that?”
“My boss, Robert. Messed up the report yesterday. I’ll have to go straight to the office.”
She said goodbye to her thirteen-year-old son and ten-year-old daughter.
“Alright, kids, see you when I’m back.”
In the city, she went straight to the office, called security, and logged in. Scanning the report, she groaned at the glaring mistakes.
“How did I miss this? No wonder they’re furious.”
By evening, she resent the report, locked up, and headed home.
“Tony should be back soon. Bet he’ll be surprised to see me,” she thought, strolling slowly. “Odd, he never used to work weekends. And lately… always on his phone, distant, irritable. We should talk. The kids aren’t home—perfect time.”
At the front door, she fumbled for her keys, then froze. The kitchen light was on.
“Tony’s home already?”
Her heart raced as she climbed the stairs. Soft music played—the kind he always groaned at when she put it on. Strange. She eased the door open, spotting unfamiliar sandals in the hallway. Familiar, but—no time to think.
She set her bag down and peered into the dim living room, lit only by a wall lamp. The music drifted from the balcony. Two figures stood there, smoking.
“Sarah. It’s Sarah.” The realisation burned. Her best friend.
Emily’s hands trembled. She crept closer.
“Tony, when are you going to tell Emily about us?” Sarah’s voice was sharp.
Her husband sighed. “Sarah, not this again. We agreed you wouldn’t push.”
Through the sheer curtain, Emily saw him in boxers, Sarah in his shirt.
“And when *will* you decide?” Emily snapped, yanking the curtain aside.
Tony dropped his cigarette. Sarah yelped as it hit her foot.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Sarah shrieked. “You weren’t supposed to be back till tomorrow!”
Emily stood frozen, gripping the doorframe.
“Em, you could’ve called,” Tony mumbled.
“Oh, I need *permission* now?”
Sarah glared, shameless. Tony finally spoke.
“Get dressed. Leave.”
Sarah huffed, slammed the door on her way out.
Tony rubbed his face. “Em, it’s nothing serious. Just boredom. I’d never leave the family.”
“We still *have* a family?”
“Come on, men do this sometimes. And you’re not exactly putting in effort—when’s the last time you dressed up? Got your hair done? We used to go on holidays, now it’s just bills and your dad’s stroke—”
“And whose salary got cut in half? No wonder—you’re funding *her*.” Emily grabbed her bag. “I can’t even look at you.”
Her head spun. She needed to disappear.
Outside, rain soaked her dress. She ran blindly, sobbing. No buses to the village. The office was her only option.
Stumbling inside, she dripped on the carpet, changed into the cleaner’s spare robe, and curled on the sofa.
She woke to Robert shaking her.
“Emily, what the devil? Why are you here?”
She burst into tears.
He sighed. “Get dressed. You’re coming home with me.”
His wife, Margaret—who’d once forgiven his own affair—fed her breakfast the next morning.
“So, what now? Take him back or tell him to sod off?”
“I never want to see him again.”
Margaret smiled sadly. “You’ve got kids. I forgave Robert… for them.”
Emily stayed silent.
Back in the village, her mother said nothing. Robert called later.
“Take two weeks off. Sort things out.”
Emily confessed everything.
“Mum, I’m divorcing him. I can’t forgive this.”
The kids overheard, sided with her. Tony called daily, begging, then visited, saying he missed them. The children hesitated.
“He’s still your father,” Emily said softly. They hugged him.
He kept coming, helping her parents, apologising. She had the divorce papers ready but hadn’t filed them.
Something held her back.
Half a lifetime wasn’t easy to erase.
She still loved him.
Some decisions couldn’t be made in one go.
She’d wait till she returned to the city.
Then she’d decide.
