“Hello. I’m Yura’s wife. May I come in?”
The medical college had been buzzing all week ahead of the upcoming volleyball match between the medics and the engineering students. That morning, Emma had begged Tanya to come watch.
“I don’t like volleyball. I don’t care for sports at all. I don’t understand any of it,” Tanya resisted.
“What’s there to understand? We just cheer for our team to win. Come on, do it for me?” Emma pleaded.
“It’s not about the game—it’s about Simon,” Tanya sighed and finally agreed.
The hall was packed, benches crammed along one wall. Against her expectations, Tanya got swept up in the match. Soon, she was shouting with the crowd, waving her team’s crimson flags while the engineering supporters waved navy blue. In the end, the medics won. The girls celebrated as if they’d personally secured the victory.
“Shall we go home?” Tanya asked as they stepped outside. The streetlamps flickered on in the deepening twilight.
“Let’s wait for Simon, at least to congratulate him. He’ll be out soon,” Emma croaked, her voice hoarse from shouting.
They didn’t wait long. Simon emerged with another guy, spotted them, and introduced his opponent from the match—James. Turned out, they’d been mates since school. The four walked together, dissecting the game before splitting off—Simon walked Emma home, while James headed in Tanya’s direction.
That’s how it began.
A year after Tanya graduated, she and James married. He’d finished his degree a year earlier and was already working. Their parents chipped in for the deposit, and the newlyweds bought a two-bedroom flat with an eye on future children.
Three years later, their son was born, and another six years after, a daughter.
Between maternity leaves, Tanya worked at a dental clinic, treating relatives and half the neighbourhood. James was an engineer at a big firm. He rarely played volleyball now—mostly just summer matches on the beach. He’d kept his shape, though, still just as fit and handsome. Every time Tanya admired him, she remembered how they’d met—how close she’d come to never knowing him if she’d refused Emma that day.
The fiery passion of their first years had mellowed, but they were happy. They hosted dinners for friends, spent weekends barbecuing at someone’s country cottage, took seaside holidays—even went to Spain twice. Just the two of them once, and another time with their son, Oliver. Eleanor hadn’t been born yet. Among their friends, they were the golden couple—one of the few marriages still intact.
Emma envied them—not spitefully, but with warmth. She believed she was the reason for their happiness. If she hadn’t dragged Tanya to that match, none of it would’ve happened. Meanwhile, her own romance with Simon fizzled out. She married someone else, divorced within two years, and was still searching for her own happily ever after.
One evening, Tanya was helping Oliver with his Year 6 homework while Eleanor drew beside them, tongue peeking out in concentration.
“Mum, your phone,” Oliver said, glancing up from his workbook.
Tanya paused. He was right—it was vibrating. She usually kept it silent at home. Calls came often—some acquaintance with a toothache begging for advice, or someone desperate to slip a “very important” patient into her clinic schedule. Even without the ringtone, she always answered. She couldn’t turn away people in pain.
This time, it was Emma. Tanya accepted the call but cut straight to it: “I’m helping Oliver. Can I call you later?”
“Later won’t matter,” Emma said. “James isn’t home, is he?”
“Still at work. He said he’d be late. Why?”
“He’s not at work. I just saw him at a restaurant with some beautiful woman. I’m on a date myself—stepped outside to call you. They left in his car. Headed to hers, I’d guess. I’m sorry, love, but this isn’t a coincidence. They’re involved. I know these things. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Tanya said flatly.
She’d always known women fancied James. But he’d never given her reason to doubt him. Maybe Emma had drunk too much. Maybe she’d mistaken someone else for him. Or maybe Tanya had missed the warning signs.
“I’ve barely had a sip,” Emma added, as if reading her mind. Her voice was steady. “Don’t think I’m jealous. I adore you both. Never once tried to poach him—he was mad about you. But I couldn’t stay silent. Forewarned is forearmed.”
She offered to have her date—a police officer—dig up details. “Want me to ask? Or shall I drag the little homewrecker by her hair myself? You decide. But I wouldn’t hand James over without a fight. Men like him don’t grow on trees. You’ve got two kids—remember that. So, should I find out more?”
Anyone else, Tanya might’ve dismissed it. But Emma wouldn’t lie. Why would she?
“You’re quiet,” Emma pressed.
“Find out,” Tanya said and tossed the phone aside as if it were to blame.
“Mum,” Oliver called.
“One second.”
Tanya walked to the kitchen and stood by the window, trembling. James… with another woman. The title of some old comedy flashed in her mind—*It Couldn’t Happen Here!* But Emma had known him for years. She wouldn’t be wrong.
Tanya clasped her icy fingers. Her heart ached, her face burned, yet inside, a sickening chill spread. What if Emma *had* misjudged? What if it *was* a work meeting? But Emma said they were involved. James was only human—couldn’t he be tempted? Men strayed all the time. He’d always turned heads. And who’d know that better than her?
But what now? A screaming match? Smashing plates? Scaring the children? Hysterics would only push him away. Mistresses thrived on contrast—wives nagged and demanded, while *they* offered patience and tenderness… What would happen next?
“Mum, I can’t figure out this problem.” Oliver hovered in the doorway.
“I’ll be right there,” Tanya answered tonelessly, not turning.
He hesitated, then left.
Tanya returned to the room, barely grasping the maths problem. By the time James got home, she’d steeled herself—greeting him with a smile.
“Should I warm up dinner?”
“No, had coffee at work. Exhausted. Shower, then bed.”
She put Eleanor to sleep, then sat at the kitchen table for hours, sipping tea, thinking, thinking…
James was already asleep when she slipped into bed. She didn’t drift off until dawn. Who could, after learning their husband had cheated?
Morning brought a throbbing head and sandpaper eyes. She cooked breakfast, woke Eleanor. James rose fresh-faced, devouring his food with gusto.
“Can you drop Eleanor at nursery? I’m not feeling well,” Tanya asked.
“Of course. Get some rest—you’re on the late shift, right?”
He’d always remembered birthdays, anniversaries, her work rota. A normal morning. Everything the same. Yet completely different.
“Don’t be late tonight? You’ll pick her up?”
“Yeah, of course. Didn’t need reminding,” James called from the hall.
The next day, after work, Tanya visited her mother. She needed to talk, to hear advice.
“What should I do, Mum?”
“I don’t know, love. When your father strayed, I screamed, threw things… Didn’t even need to spy—everyone knew before I did. I stormed into *her* flat, wrecked the place. Nearly cracked her skull with a stool. Your dad stopped me.”
Her mother sighed. “Shocked? Afterwards, I was ashamed. Grief makes people reckless. Your father said he couldn’t live with me after *that*. He left. I cried for weeks, wished I’d died. Then he came back. But I refused him.”
“Did you regret not forgiving him?”
“At first, no—even though it was hard. But I only had you. You’ve got two. Oliver needs his dad. Later… yes, I regretted it. None of us were happy. He stayed with *her* because he had nowhere else, till he died. You must choose: forgive or not. You’re the one who’ll live with it. Fight for James if you love him. Age brings wisdom. Being alone… it’s awful.”
Two days later, Emma appeared at the clinic with the other woman’s address.
“So it’s true.” Tanya smirked bitterly, taking the paper.
“You doubted me? I’d never lie about this. What will you do?”
“What would *you* do?”
“Oh, I’d make her regret it—arsenic in her tea, acid in herThe summer sun glinted off the waves as Tanya watched James dive for the ball, laughing with strangers on the beach, and she realized—some loves weathered storms, not because they were perfect, but because they were worth the fight.
