Hello, I’m Your Husband’s Mistress: A Glamorous Blonde Appears in My Office to Announce Her Pregnancy—But I Stay Cool, Offer Practical Help, and Refuse to Let Anyone Threaten My Family or My Own Hard-Won Position

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 5 minViews 1

Good afternoon, Im your husbands mistress.

I paused, setting aside the magazine mock-up Id been reviewing, and stared at the attractive blonde who had appeared in the doorway of my office. She smirked and added briskly, Im afraid I have some rather distressing news for youIm pregnant. Naturally, its your husbands.

With practiced composure, I asked, Have you got any proof? She smiled triumphantly and drew a neatly folded paper, stamped with blue ink, from a costly leather handbag. Clearly, she had prepared for this visit.

I studied the document. It was official, not some crude forgery, which was no great surprise. If youre about to walk into a mans wifes office with such an announcement, a counterfeit just wouldnt do.

Very well, I nodded, it does appear that youre expecting. All thats left now is a paternity test to confirm my husband is the father, and everything will be arranged.

At this, the blonde seemed rather less certain. She stammered, Everything will be arranged?

I explained evenly, My husband will settle maintenance for you. Ill find you an excellent doctor, reserve a good private ward for your deliveryyoull be able to have your baby comfortably, with nothing to fear for yourself or the child.

The blonde grew agitated. But don’t you understand? Im having his baby. Hes meant to be a father to this child.

I explained, not unkindly, Our three children need their father too, and by the grace of God, they have him. But youve nothing to worry about. My husband will be part of your childs life. He’ll visit, and when the time comes, perhaps even take him by the hand to his first day of school. In fact, you may send your little one to us from time to time. We have first-rate nannies, and I adore children. It will give you some free time to sort out your own affairs. Believe me, thats no small thing for a mother.

She leapt up, clutching her expensive handbag until the leather creased, her beautiful features contorted in distress. Dont you get it? Im sleeping with your husband. Im carrying his child. He doesnt love youhe loves me!

I kept my composure. I felt a pang of sympathy for this still-very-young woman. Life, you see, has a way of sweeping away youthful fancieseven when those fancies involve catching yourself a ready-made, wealthy husband for nothing.

My dear, youre the fourth young lady to bring me news like this. The first didnt even think to bring a note from the doctor. The second and third came bearing forgeries. Oh, and there was one whose pregnancy was real, but a paternity test soon cleared things up. Neither my husband nor I have ever refused help when its needed. But even my kind-hearted husband will not tolerate outright deceit

The blonde looked completely adrift, but I pressed on. As for your affair with my husbandremember, he sleeps with me as well, and several other hopeful young women besides. What sort of wife would I be if I begrudged my beloved his weaknesses? It has never touched me or our children. Now, do leave your number. Tomorrow Ill arrange when and where youll have the paternity test; someone will call you.

Her composure cracked, and she fled the office. I lit a cigarette, my hand just a touch unsteady.

I had been awaiting this visit for some time, knowing well of my husbands latest fancy. I was able to stand my ground through the conversation, just as I had in the others, though it never came easily. In truth, it would have been simpler to let myself dissolve into tears and drama, to send my successful and wealthy husband into another womans arms.

Years back, he left his former wife for me, after I too arrived at her house with the news of my pregnancy. She had a spectacular outburstmy husband could never bear crying or scenes. He married me soon after, and I made sure to reinforce our union with two more children.

Deep down, I had always knownif a man strays from his wife once, with you, he wont stop the straying. Perhaps there will be more women vying for his attentions. But I will not make the same mistake as his last wife. No successor will find an inch of opportunity.

I will endure.

I will prevail.

— “After I’m Gone, You’ll Have to Move Out—I’m Leaving the Flat to My Son…” — “I’m Sorry, Gail, but after I’m gone you’ll need to leave this flat,” said Anthony to his wife. “I’m leaving it to my son. I’ve already sorted out the paperwork. I hope you won’t hold it against me? You have your own children—they’ll look after you.” Life had tossed Gail about. Raised in a children’s home, she had never known her parents. She married young, for love, but happiness eluded her. Thirty-five years ago she was left a widow—a young woman with two small children—when her husband Nicholas died tragically. She lived alone for five years, working tirelessly so her daughter and son wanted for nothing, until she met Anthony. Thankfully, Gail had a place of her own—her late husband’s flat had come to her by inheritance. Her new partner Anthony was thirteen years her senior, owned a three-bedroom flat, and earned well. They moved in together, and Gail’s children soon got along with him. Her older daughter, Vicky, was initially cautious, but Anthony won her trust. Gail’s younger son, Barry, immediately began calling Anthony “Dad.” Anthony raised them as his own—never stingy with time, effort, or money. Both Vicky and Barry were grateful for their happy childhoods. *** Barry and Vicky had long since moved out. Vicky married young. Barry, who dreamed of joining the army, hadn’t lived at home in years. Ten years ago, Gail called her children home. She wanted to discuss an important matter. “I want to sell our two-bedroom flat,” she told them. “We need major renovations here—new furniture, new pipes. No one’s lived in the two-bed for years, it’s just sitting empty. I wanted your blessing to sell it and split the money?” Vicky shrugged, “I don’t mind. I don’t need the flat, but to be honest, Mum, I wouldn’t turn down the money. You know my son needs treatment—we haven’t given up hope of getting him on his feet.” Vicky’s eldest had been born with a disability and needed costly ongoing rehab. Barry agreed, “I’m fine with it. Mum, give my share to Vicky—let her take Grisha to London for treatment. I’m paying my mortgage just fine. My nephew’s health matters more.” Gail sold the two-bed, gave half to Vicky, and put the rest into renovating Anthony’s flat—new wiring, plumbing, and appliances, all paid for from her own pocket. She didn’t know then that her investments would end up benefiting someone else, or that after thirty years her husband would betray her. Anthony’s health deteriorated four years ago. His knees ached so much he sometimes couldn’t get out of bed. Gail insisted he seek treatment. “Tony, stop acting like a child. Get to a doctor! I’ll go with you—someone has to look after your health.” Anthony groaned, “I know how this ends—expensive meds that won’t help. My knees have hurt most of my life—now it’s worse, but I’m almost seventy. No wonder they ache.” Vicky urged Anthony to see a doctor, and Gail went with him. The doctor sighed, “This is serious. Your joints need urgent care. You’ve got to lose weight, or things will get worse.” Gail took his health in hand—changing his diet to healthy foods, cutting out treats. Anthony refused to follow the advice, calling it all nonsense, but eventually agreed to treatment and a diet. But the medicine offered only brief respite. His pain returned, moving around the flat was hard; Gail would help him to the loo and bathroom. His heart and blood pressure gave him trouble too. Vicky and Barry spent as much time with Anthony as possible. *** For years, Anthony battled on, but his condition see-sawed. Gail stayed by his side. Six months ago, during a hospitalisation, she was preparing food for him when a knock came at the door—a young man with familiar features. “Hello! Is Mr Anthony Williams at home?” “I’m afraid he’s not. And you are?” “My name’s Simon. I’m Anthony’s son.” Gail was taken aback—this young man looked just like her husband in his youth. Simon explained, “I haven’t seen Dad in years. May I wait? I’d like to talk to him.” Gail invited him in. Simon soon shared, “Dad’s always been… let’s say, particular. It’s strange seeing him weak—he was always so strong. May I go with you to the hospital?” “Of course,” smiled Gail. “Tony will be glad to see you.” Gail hadn’t known Anthony had a son. He’d never spoken of a previous marriage, always claiming he’d never become a father—despite Gail’s attempts for a third child. Anthony didn’t at first recognise Simon. But as they reconnected, Anthony admitted his past: “Simon’s mum and I were married four years. I left when Simon was three—she cheated on me with my cousin! She later married him and told me to forget I had a son. For years I tried to see Simon, but they shut me out… Nearly thirty years, and now Simon’s found me. I don’t know how to relate to him—he’s blood, but a stranger.” “Tony,” Gail said gently, “he’s your son. Don’t turn him away. Let him in, so you won’t regret it later.” Anthony took her advice. Simon began visiting regularly—even meeting Vicky and Barry, who welcomed him. Gail was glad her husband had reunited with his son. Gail and Anthony had savings, mostly from money Gail set aside after selling her flat. Anthony hadn’t worked in years; it was Gail’s income that kept them going. She checked the account rarely, but was alarmed by a sudden bank notification—£1,500 missing. She confronted Anthony: “Tony, where’s our bank card? Someone’s taken out £1,500!” Anthony was unruffled, “No one robbed us. I gave the card to Simon—he needed the money, so I helped him.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Why not ask first?” “That’s none of your business,” Anthony snapped. “My son needed help, so I helped. What’s the problem?” Gail, shocked at his rudeness, asked for the card back. Anthony refused—“He’s my son, close family! You’re being ridiculous.” Gail, normally calm, lost her temper. “Tony, why should your son use my money? You haven’t put a penny in that account for years! I want the card back!” Anthony shouted, but Gail called the bank and had the card blocked. That evening, Simon appeared, frustrated: “Dad, the card doesn’t work anymore!” Gail replied, “No, because I blocked it. We helped you, but you don’t get free rein. My savings are mine—understood? From now on, all financial matters go through me.” Simon was offended and left. Anthony raged at Gail. After their row, she realised for the first time that she was tired of her husband. *** A few days passed, with no word from Simon. Anthony sulked, ignoring Gail, who retreated to her daughter’s for a break. When she returned, Anthony seemed cheerful. Gail was relieved, hoping he no longer resented her. But Anthony announced, “I was at the solicitor today. I’ve gifted the flat to my son.” Gail narrowed her eyes. “And for what, exactly?” “Simon’s my son, my only heir. I have no other children. When I’m gone, he’ll own this property. By the way, Gail, I’d suggest you start thinking about where you’ll live—the kids will look after you, I’m sure.” Gail was quietly wounded. Legally, perhaps she had no claim to the flat—but she had invested everything here, made it a home. Now it was all lost to her. “Thank you, Tony,” she said softly. “You’re right—I need to sort my own future. Call your son—let him look after you now.” “Why should Simon move in here?” Anthony was confused. Gail shrugged, packing a suitcase. “You don’t like being alone. Now your son can keep you company.” “And where will you go?” Anthony asked, baffled. “I’m leaving you. Getting a divorce, becoming free at last. I’ll call the kids and start making plans.” Gail moved in with her son, Barry, in his spacious flat; Vicky would have had her, but Gail didn’t want to crowd her daughter. At court, Anthony tried to avoid the divorce, but Gail insisted. To Anthony and his son, she was seen as grasping after property that was never hers. After I’m Gone, You’ll Have to Move Out—I’m Leaving the Flat to My Son… The True Story of Gail, Her Husband’s Betrayal, and the Home She Lost After Thirty Years Together

00

NOT THE RIGHT ALEX Daisy stood in front of the mirror, changing her earrings for the third time. “Well, Button,” she addressed her dog, “these or those?” Button yawned. “Thanks for the support.” She glanced at the clock. Half an hour to go. Strange nerves. Usually she felt confident—suitors hovered around her. But this time… “Nonsense,” she decided, giving herself one last look in the mirror. “You’re the best!” Maybe it was because she’d never seen Alex before? Three weeks of phone calls—not a single meeting. Three weeks, and I haven’t got a word in edgeways, she suddenly thought, smirking. Daisy took a deep breath and picked up her handbag. Time to go. THREE WEEKS EARLIER “Oh, when will you finally get married and move out!” sighed her dad—the consultant neurosurgeon—over dinner. He’d just come home from a marathon surgery, hoping for a quiet evening with a volume of Terry Pratchett. But Daisy had spent the past half hour chattering non-stop, comparing British and American science fiction. “Dad, you said Pratchett was the peak—” “I did. Another time, love—I just need some peace tonight.” Daisy pouted and went quiet—for all of three minutes. “By the way, speaking of marriage,” her dad brightened up suddenly. “Remember Dr. Spencer—the head of the GP surgery where I sometimes help out?” “Yes?” “He’s got a son. Supposedly an excellent chap. Spencer asked for your number—to introduce you. I said yes.” Daisy grimaced. All these set-ups—so old-fashioned. For wallflowers, surely—not for her! But she didn’t have the heart to argue with her dad. THE FIRST CALL The “excellent chap” waited a few days before he called. “Hello?” “Hi, it’s Alex. Your dad mentioned me?” “He did,” Daisy replied, cool but slightly intrigued—the voice was pleasant. “My dad spoke really highly of you. Said you’re… extraordinary.” “I don’t know about that!” she laughed. “Just an ordinary med student. Paediatrics at St Mary’s. What about you?” “Oxford. Future surgeon.” Ah, that explained the slightly smug tone. They talked for an hour. Then another two. Then every day after. Alex talked about his cat Miranda, his love for sci-fi, and his worry that he was too thin, too pale, too tired… Sometimes Daisy caught herself thinking: Isn’t that supposed to be my role? She barely kept herself from saying, “Alex, just lighten up.” Though, he hated being called “Lex.” Still, if you overlooked the little things, she liked him. THE MEETING AT OXFORD CIRCUS Eventually, they arranged to meet. At Oxford Circus, by the Underground. To see a new film and then stroll over to “Cosmos,” the ice cream café on Regent Street. The rest—who knew? Daisy burst from the tube carriage and scanned the crowd. Bustle. Noise. That distinctive Underground smell. And there he was—tall, handsome, clutching a bouquet of roses by the pillar, craning for each train to arrive. She marched over, determined. “Alex?” He flinched, looked confused. “Excuse me, are you—?” “Daisy,” she said sharply, extending her hand—part handshake, part invitation to kiss it. Stunned by my beauty, she thought wryly. Gone all formal… He froze. “Daisy?” he repeated uncertainly. “But I—” “Come on!” She grabbed his sleeve. “We need to pick up our tickets!” “Wait, I wanted to—” “We’ll talk later!” She pulled him to the exit. He glanced back at the platform, as if searching for someone, but Daisy swept him away into the crowd. The roses were still in his grip. He looked at them, then at her—then surrendered. “All right,” he murmured. “Let’s go.” CINEMA AND CAFÉ They both enjoyed the film. Daisy admired her date’s stylish coat, the artsy, hand-knit scarf he obviously treasured. A whiff of expensive French cologne. Delicious vanilla ice cream at “Cosmos.” They agreed on pretty much everything. Well, mainly Daisy did the talking while he followed her every gesture with warm brown eyes, nodding along. Sometimes, in support, he’d gently enclose her animated hand in his large, reassuring palm. So manly—and so attractive! “You know,” he said during their walk along a twilit Shaftesbury Avenue, “you’re…” “Yes?” she prompted, wary. “So alive. So genuine.” She flashed an utterly enchanting smile—the best she could muster. She was in love. THREE MONTHS LATER The romance took off. They met almost daily and rang each other several times a day—which was as much as you could do before smartphones. After three months, Alex declared that he loved Daisy, couldn’t live without her, and wanted to marry her. Daisy, after a token ten minutes of dithering, rallied and said yes. “You’ll have to meet my parents,” her fiancé worried. “Let’s not rush that!” Daisy panicked. Much as her family wanted her settled, they were frightfully picky about potential candidates. Especially her gran. No one was ever good enough for her precious granddaughter, and Daisy’s parents tended to back Gran’s arguments. There was no way Daisy was giving up on Alex. She wasn’t hurrying to meet his parents either, in case someone let something slip. HER DAD’S BIRTHDAY A chance came a fortnight later. Despite his dislike for fuss, Dad decided to properly celebrate his 55th, inviting friends and colleagues. Daisy mysteriously announced she would be bringing someone. The guests were nearly all gathered when Daisy ushered her fiancé in, bearing carnations and a bottle of French brandy. “Dad, please meet…” she began, slightly embarrassed. The phone rang. “Hold on, back in a sec,” Dad dashed to answer. He came puffing back moments later: “That was Dr. Spencer—just getting directions from the tube. I’m so pleased he’s actually coming. Thought he was cross since you never met his son!” Daisy froze. “Never met him?” Dad stared at her, puzzled. “Well, yes. He said his boy waited for you at Oxford Circus for two hours. With flowers. But you never turned up.” Slowly, Daisy turned to Alex. He stood in the hall, pale, clutching the carnations, guilt written all over him. “We’ll be right back,” she hissed to her bewildered father. She dragged Alex to her bedroom. THE TRUTH Daisy closed the door. Turned to him. “Wait,” she said slowly, almost afraid to understand. “What do you mean—I never turned up?” Alex stayed silent. “You’re not Alex Spencer?” He shook his head. “You’re not Alex Spencer?!” “No,” he said softly. “I’m Alex Sullivan. A friend set me up with a girl—Natalie. I waited for her at Oxford Circus. And then you came up and…” “And I just took you along,” Daisy finished. They stood, silent, in her room. “I tried to explain—on our way to the cinema that first day. But you wouldn’t listen.” “I never listen,” she conceded. “It’s a gift.” Button whimpered at the door. Daisy sat on the bed. “So what now?” Alex looked at her—a long, serious look, maybe too serious. Then knelt beside her. “I don’t care how we met,” he said, “whether by chance or through someone’s dad.” “I love you. Will you marry me—for real, no mix-ups?” Daisy let out a relieved smile. “Okay. Then, let’s meet the parents. Warning—my lot are complicated.” “So’s mine. And I’ve got a cat with attitude.” “We’ll manage!” They left the room. In the living room, the guests waited—including, just arrived, Dr. Spencer and his son. Tall. Handsome. With a bouquet of roses. Daisy glanced at the real Alex Spencer. Then at her Alex—even paler, with his carnations. No, she thought. Not the right one. And she burst out laughing—for real this time. “Dad,” she called, “I’ve got news. And it’s a long story.”

00

The Choice “Turns out, Feddy is very much married…” sighed Susan, perched on a park bench with a referral slip for the hospital tightly gripped in her pocket. Her flatmates back at the halls envied her when they saw her with that dashing, clean-shaven, blue-eyed dark-haired gent, thinking she’d hit the jackpot with such a charming man. But, as it turns out, there was nothing to envy. Susan shivered, recalling the first and only time she met Feddy’s wife – who’d waited for her outside the factory gates to set the record straight. “Hello there! You must be Susan!” the woman began. “And you are?” Susan asked, startled and tense from the tall, slim woman’s piercing, ashy-blonde gaze. “I’m Olivia – Feddy Myles’ wife.” “What?” “You heard me!” “Another naïve girl,” Olivia said calmly. “How many of you are out there, chasing after someone else’s happiness?” “How dare you?” “Listen,” Olivia said, gently gripping Susan’s elbow. “You should be asking yourself the same question. I, his legal wife, have seen you with my husband – and now you’re acting haughty instead of apologising or feeling any shame… But maybe that’s not in your nature. He’s had more of your lot than I can count on my fingers and toes. Getting involved with a married man is shameless.” “He’s a man, a hunter, you see? For him, you’re just a brief fling. He’ll move on soon enough. Keep away from him. By the way, we have two daughters – I can show you a family photo.” Olivia produced a cherished snap, handing it to the stunned Susan. “Here. Proof of true love. This was us in Brighton just two months ago…” “Well, what do you want from me? Sort things with your husband yourself.” “Don’t worry, I will! He only started at this factory recently and, lo and behold, then you turn up. Walk away, won’t you? Don’t fall for his promises – Feddy isn’t about to get divorced. Don’t waste your time. What’s your age – thirty?” “Twenty-five,” Susan retorted, wounded. “Even more reason. There’s still plenty of time for you to get married and have a family. Leave Feddy be.” Susan listened no longer. She walked away on shaky legs, her dreams suddenly eclipsed by the arrival of her lover’s wife. “Betrayer…” she muttered, choking back her tears – she wouldn’t let the world see her pain, not on the street and not in front of her workmates. That evening, Feddy showed up at Susan’s with flowers as if nothing had happened. She kicked him out, swollen-eyed, unswayed by his vows of everlasting love and talk of an impending divorce, after his wife’s revelation changed everything. For two weeks, Susan was left reeling. Feddy didn’t pester her again and acted as though he’d never met her, averting his gaze whenever they crossed paths. Misery never comes alone… At first, Susan blamed her morning sickness and dizzy spells on nerves, but soon reality struck – her all-consuming, naive affair with Feddy had left consequences. “Six weeks,” sounded like a sentence. Susan couldn’t bear the thought of being a single mum. She was terrified, convinced everyone else knew – and now she faced their silent judgement for trusting a man she barely knew, who’d hidden his family all along. What could she have done? Ask for ID on the first date? He wore no ring. Some married men don’t. She should have been suspicious when he insisted they keep their relationship secret at work, but love blinded her until his betrayal became the talk of the office, especially after Olivia’s visit. “I’m pregnant,” she finally confided to her former lover at lunch, desperation pushing her forward. “I’ll give you money, but deal with it,” he grunted. Next day, Feddy resigned, vanishing from her life forever. Susan knew she couldn’t delay forever. Ignoring the doctor’s warnings, she took the referral for the ‘operation’ and found herself gripping that slip on a park bench, terrified to let go. “In a hurry?” said a young man in a sharp suit, plopping down beside her with an enormous bouquet of burgundy chrysanthemums. “Sorry?” she looked up with hollow eyes. “Your watch is fast,” he said, nodding at the gold watch on her wrist. “Oh, it’s always ten minutes ahead,” she replied wearily, turning away. “I keep resetting it, but it’s hopeless.” “The weather’s wonderful today, isn’t it? Real Indian summer. My mum loves this time of year. She always says she made the right choice on a day like this – and never once regretted it. You know,” the stranger chattered on, “My mum’s truly something – I owe her everything.” “What about your dad?” Susan found herself asking. “She never talks about him, and I’ve learnt not to ask. She’s better off without him, I think…” “I just came from a job interview actually. Imagine, they picked me out of ten applicants for a top position – and I’ve barely any experience! It still feels unreal. My mum’s the one who gave me the confidence I needed. My first paycheque will get her a holiday by the sea – she’s never been.” “Have you?” “No.” Susan studied the candid lad, noting his burgundy tie. “Gift from mum,” he said proudly, stroking it. “Sorry – I’m rambling. But you seemed so sad, I just wanted to share my joy.” Susan shook her head – he didn’t annoy her at all. In fact, he’d stopped her downward spiral, and his love for his mother was touching. “What devotion!” she thought. “His mum’s so lucky… I wish I had a son like him…” “Well, I’d better be off – my mum’s waiting and worrying. Don’t rush, though!” “Pardon?” “I meant your watch,” he grinned. “Oh,” she smiled softly in return. A minute later, he was gone. Susan tore up her referral slip in tiny pieces and lingered on the bench, breathing in the crisp autumn air, warmth and light finally returning to her heart. She wasn’t alone after all. Some women raise and nurture wonderful sons single-handedly. A pity she hadn’t asked the lad’s name – but it didn’t matter any more. She’d made her choice. *** Twenty-three years later… “Mum, I’m going to be late,” Stan said, standing at the mirror as his mother carefully knotted the new burgundy tie she’d bought him for an important interview. “Maybe forget about the tie…” “It gives confidence, trust me. You’ll be amazing, they’ll definitely hire you!” Susan finished neatening his collar and stepped back to admire her grown boy. “I’m nervous – what if…?” “This job’s meant for you. Just answer their questions clearly and don’t forget to smile. You’ll be irresistible.” “Okay, Mum,” Stan kissed her cheek and hurried out the door. Susan watched him go, her heart swelling as her dearest strode off to catch the bus. Suddenly, a shock ran through her – she’d seen this before… That young man in the park, more than twenty years ago… Stan in his business suit looked just like him now… How had she forgotten that day for so many years? But now, the memory pulsed with life again. Was it really fate, giving her a glimpse of the future she’d almost thrown away? Showing her – literally – the child she might have lost, steering her onto the right path? She never did learn his mother’s name, nor asked his name, but now – it didn’t matter. Everything turned out just as it should. That afternoon, Stan came home beaming, with a huge bunch of burgundy chrysanthemums to match his tie, announcing he’d got the job. He promised they’d finally go to the seaside, since his mum had never been. Now it was time for him to take care of her, and he’d move mountains to make her happy. No matter what life threw at them, Susan always found comfort in her son’s embrace. They survived it all, and her brave choice had given her a life she’d never regret. Just as it was meant to be!

04

The Choice “Turns out Fred really is well and truly married…” sighed Sue, sitting on a park bench and clutching the hospital referral note deep in her pocket. Her flatmates back at the halls envied her when they saw her with her tall, clean-shaven, blue-eyed, dark-haired companion, thinking she’d lucked out with such a charming gent. But there was nothing to envy, really. Sue shuddered, remembering her first and last meeting with Fred’s wife, who had caught her at the factory gates to spell out how things stood. “Well, hello there! You must be Susan?” she began. “And you are?” Sue tensed under the piercing gaze of the tall, slender woman with ash-blonde hair. “I’m Olivia—Fred Mason’s wife.” “What?” “You heard me!” “Yet another naïve girl,” the woman said calmly. “How many of you are out there—never ending, chasing after someone else’s happiness.” “How dare you?” “Listen,” Olivia gingerly took her rival by the elbow, “how dare you? I’m the legal wife. I saw you with my husband, and you’re still acting up, instead of apologising and feeling some proper shame—although, I suppose that’s something only decent people do, which doesn’t seem to be you. “There have been so many like you, I couldn’t count them all on my fingers and toes. “You’ve tangled with a married man—shameless! He’s a man, a hunter, you know? But to him, you’re just a fleeting adventure. He’ll tire of you before you know it. Best keep your distance. “By the way, we have two daughters—I could show you a family photo.” Olivia pulled out a photograph and handed it to a stunned Sue. “There. Proof of real, honest love. Us in Blackpool, just two months ago… “So? Why are you silent?” “What do you want from me? Sort out your husband yourself.” “Oh, I will—don’t worry! He only started at the factory recently, it pays well, and now, you’ve turned up to make things worse. “Let it go, for your own good. Don’t fall for Fred’s promises—he’s got no intention of getting a divorce. Don’t waste your time. How old are you, thirty?” “Twenty-five!” Sue retorted indignantly. “Well, then. You’ve got time to find someone else and start a family. Leave Fred be.” Sue listened no longer—she stumbled away from Olivia, whose sudden arrival had shattered her happy world and erased her hopeful dreams in a heartbeat. “Traitor…” Sue muttered, a lump in her throat, determined not to let her emotions spill out in public. She didn’t want workplace gossip. That evening, Fred turned up as if nothing had happened, flowers in hand. Crying and red-eyed, Sue threw him out, despite his eternal promises and claims he and his wife hadn’t loved each other for years. For two weeks, Sue recovered in silence. Fred left her alone, behaving at work as though she didn’t exist. But as they say, trouble never comes alone. When Sue started feeling sick in the mornings, she told herself it was stress. Soon, though, she realised her naive, passionate romance with Fred had left consequences. “Six weeks,” the doctor said—a sentence rather than a diagnosis. Sue didn’t want to be a single mum. She was frightened. She felt like everyone was judging her, all because she had trusted a man who turned out to be a stranger. Fred had hidden his marriage. What was she supposed to do, ask for his passport when they first met? He’d worn no wedding ring, though not all married men do. Why didn’t she question it when he said to keep their relationship secret at work? He had tricked her—and knowing she’d been deceived offered no comfort. The office now buzzed with gossip about “the wife’s visit”. “I’m pregnant,” Sue managed to tell her former lover one lunchtime, desperate. “I’ll give you the money—just sort it,” he muttered, and the next day Fred quit and vanished for good. Sue knew she couldn’t delay. Despite every warning from her doctor, she took the hospital referral for “the procedure”. And so, she sat on a bench, clutching that note as if it might vanish. “In a hurry?” asked a young man in a business suit, plopping himself down next to Sue, an enormous bunch of crimson chrysanthemums in his arms. “Sorry?” she replied, her eyes hollow. “Your watch is a bit fast,” he pointed––indicating her gold wristwatch. “My watches are always ten minutes ahead… I try to fix them, but it never works,” she replied, turning away. “Lovely weather though, isn’t it? Real Indian summer! My mum loves this time of year—she says she made her best life decision on a warm autumn day like this, and never regretted it. Did you know—” he bubbled on, a happy stranger, “—my mum’s like that!” He flashed a thumbs-up. “I’m so grateful to her.” “And your dad?” Sue asked before thinking. “Mum never told me about him, and I don’t ask. She doesn’t like talking about him.” Then, with a bright smile: “I just came from an interview—can you believe, they chose me from ten candidates! The only one they picked, even though I’ve hardly got any experience. Feels almost unreal… “It was Mum that gave me confidence. “I already know what I’ll do with my first pay packet—send Mum to the seaside. She’s never seen the sea. Have you?” “No,” Sue replied, curiously watching the cheerful, talkative chap, her eyes catching his burgundy tie. “A present from my mum,” he explained, smoothing the tie with pride. “Sorry if I’m going on—I just had to share my happiness, and you looked so sad… I thought maybe you needed someone to talk to. Am I bothering you?” Sue shook her head silently. Strangely, the stranger didn’t annoy her—he’d managed to halt her cycle of grim thoughts. His devotion to his mother was something she deeply respected. “What loyalty!” she thought, watching him intently. “His mum is so lucky… Wish I could have a son like him someday…” “Well, I’d better go. Mum’s waiting and she’ll worry. But don’t rush—” “What was that?” she asked. “I meant your watch,” he smiled. “Oh.” She smiled back. A moment later, he’d vanished, and Sue, finally releasing her grip on the crumpled hospital note, tore it into tiny pieces. She sat for a long while, breathing in the autumn air, feeling unexpectedly warm and light. She was not alone. Some women raise wonderful sons on their own. Pity she hadn’t asked his name… but perhaps that didn’t matter. The choice was made. *** Twenty-three years later… “Mum, I’m running late!” Stas called from the mirror. Mum was carefully tying his new burgundy tie—for his own big job interview. “You could just go without, you know.” “It’s for confidence, Mum! Trust me, everything’ll be fine. They’ll take me for sure… That’s it!” Susan finished the tie and stepped back to admire her son. “I’m nervous, what if…” “It’s your job, I can feel it. Just answer clearly, remember to smile. You look fantastic.” “Thanks, Mum.” Stas kissed her cheek and hurried out. Susan watched her only son enthusiastically stride towards the bus stop. Suddenly, she froze, jolted as if by electricity… She’d seen this all before. That lad in the park, more than twenty years ago… Her Stas, suited up, looked just like him. How could she have forgotten that day for so long? Now it all came alive in her memory. Was it fate, she wondered, letting her see with her own eyes whom she almost let go—(such a horrible word)—giving her the chance to make the right choice, guiding her down the right path? Why hadn’t she asked his name, since they were about the same age, or his mother’s name? But now, maybe that didn’t matter. Everything turned out wonderfully. After lunch, Stas came home with an armful of burgundy chrysanthemums—the shade of his tie—and told Susan he’d got the job. He promised they’d finally go to the seaside together. She’d never seen the sea, after all. Now it was time for him to look after the mum he loved more than anything. He would move mountains, turn rivers for her—such was Susan’s son. Whatever life had thrown at them, Susan had never, ever regretted having him. She had made the right choice. And so it was meant to be.

05

📌 Useful Social Services & Contacts in the U.S.

Stay informed and get help when you need it. Below are key national services with direct contacts that may support you or your loved ones:
🏥 Health & Mental Support

SAMHSA – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

What they do: Free and confidential help with substance use and mental health disorders.

Hotline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) – 24/7, anonymous support

Website: samhsa.gov

🧒 Support for Children & Families

WIC – Women, Infants, and Children Program

What they do: Nutritional and healthcare support for pregnant women, new mothers, and young children.

Federal Info Line: 1-800-522-5006

Find local WIC office: fns.usda.gov/wic

Hello, I’m Your Husband’s Mistress: A Glamorous Blonde Appears in My Office to Announce Her Pregnancy—But I Stay Cool, Offer Practical Help, and Refuse to Let Anyone Threaten My Family or My Own Hard-Won Position