“I understand everything… but you need to understand me too”: The truth that shattered illusions
That day, Evelyn was busy preparing lunch—chopping meat for a stew. The kitchen smelled of onions, the frying pan sizzled with grease, and suddenly, the telephone rang in the living room. Her husband, William, picked up the receiver. His voice was measured:
“Hello?”
Then—silence. A long pause. As if someone was speaking nonstop while he just listened. Evelyn wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out of the kitchen. The hallway was empty. The phone cord stretched toward the nursery. Her heart twisted. Without knowing why, she tiptoed forward, quiet as a thief.
From behind the slightly ajar bedroom door, she heard his whisper. A voice he had never used with her.
“Lily, please, calm down… I understand, really. But you have to understand me too. I have a family—I can’t come now… I love you too. So much. But I can’t talk—Evelyn might walk in any minute. I need to tell her everything, but not yet… Let’s talk tomorrow. Don’t call here at this time, I beg you. And yes… I love you.”
The shock hit her like lightning. Her hand, ready to push open the door, froze mid-air. Her heart hammered so hard she could barely breathe. *I love you.* He had said it to another woman. Not her.
Evelyn didn’t make a scene. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head: *”Never act in anger.”* She straightened up as best she could and retreated to the kitchen. She picked up the knife, but her hand shook. The meat chunks scattered unevenly across the board. Their cat brushed against her legs, and she tossed it a scrap—her only automatic kindness.
*”I love you too…”*
The words looped in her mind like a curse. She clung to another phrase he had said: *”I have a family…”* Did that mean they still mattered? Were they still important?
But then—what was she? Just the mother of his children? A housekeeper? A habit? Pain clenched her chest. Because they had been happy. He was caring, attentive. Never a hint of distance. Never any reason to doubt.
Twenty minutes later, William returned to the kitchen, inhaled the scent of dinner, and smiled.
“God, that smells amazing! Dinner soon?”
“About half an hour. I chopped the meat fine—it’ll cook faster… Who called?”
“Hm?” He seemed distracted. “Oh, work. They need me in tomorrow—wood delivery.”
“They always ask you on weekends. I don’t like it.”
“Everyone’s on holiday—summer, you know…”
“Right.”
“You seem down, love.”
“Just tired. Thought we’d go to the cottage together tomorrow.”
“You’ve got work. We’ll go in the evening.”
“Will…”
“What?”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course, what kind of question is that? I love you, Evie. And the boys. You know family means everything to me.”
He stretched, hugged her, kissed her neck. But for the first time in her life, the kiss made her skin crawl.
Later, she lay on the sofa, watching their sons play nearby. The cat jumped onto her stomach, digging its claws in—thanking her for the treat. Evelyn squeezed its paws, resting her head in its fur.
That woman… she had to disappear.
Evelyn couldn’t share her husband. Couldn’t sleep beside him knowing he had been with another. But losing him was unbearable. The answer came on its own: deal with the mistress. Personally. Without his involvement.
The next day, after William dropped the boys at school and left for “work,” Evelyn called in sick and stayed home. For cover, she borrowed a neighbour’s overalls and scarf—”painting the factory wall.” Then, straight to the park. A few minutes later, William appeared. She followed him, hiding in side streets.
He stopped at a market, bought kippers and fruit, then turned toward a row of terraced houses. Evelyn knew: *she* lived there. He vanished behind a garden gate.
She sat on a bench. Waited. And then he emerged… not alone. A tall blonde beside him. They walked toward the woods—the same place where she and William once strolled. Evelyn went home. Her mind burned. Her soul, hollow.
Days later, she got a better look at Lily—beautiful, damn her. Around thirty. Then, luck: she overheard Lily chatting with a friend, who unknowingly spilled everything.
“Lily? Single mum with a sick kid, her husband left. Now she’s seeing some bloke. Married. Says he’ll leave his wife for her…”
Evelyn’s blood boiled. But she smiled.
One afternoon, on a half-day shift, Evelyn—in overalls and scarf—paid Lily a “visit.”
Lily was in the garden. Evelyn faked dizziness, won her sympathy. Water, a cup… then—”I see your fate.”
Lily was shocked, then sceptical. But Evelyn described her life—husband, divorce, child, scars… Everything. Lily believed. Her eyes widened.
“With this man… nothing will come of it. He’s bound to his wife. He’ll never leave.”
“He will! I’ll make him mine! I’ll have his child!”
“He won’t be yours!”
“He will!”
Then—a fish across the head. They fought. Evelyn swung, shouting:
“He’s MY husband! MINE! Understood?! Get out of our lives! Go!”
Tears, dirt, torn overalls… But Evelyn walked away, head high.
A week later, William stopped getting called in on weekends. He no longer smelled of kippers. Evelyn felt victorious. Lily was gone. Forever.
Years passed. They moved. Lived quietly. He—distant, a little sad. She—calm. Their children grew. Life went on.
Then, near the end of his life, with days left, a woman entered his hospital room. Evelyn eavesdropped—it was her. Lily. They wept. He called her name. Said goodbye.
Evelyn locked eyes with her old rival. The woman left without a word. Neither recognised the other. Or pretended not to.
That night, sitting by her husband’s bed, Evelyn wondered:
*Maybe it really was love? True. Deep. Quiet.*
But…
Life demands sacrifices.
And if someone had to suffer—better her than her children. Because family comes first.
