“Just handle the housework,” David’s voice was casual, barely glancing up from his phone. “Your job is to make things cosy. I bring home the bacon; you run the home. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
I froze, a plate gripped tight in my hand. After twenty-three years of marriage, I’d heard it all—but this?
Opposite me, my best friend Natalie snorted into her wineglass. “What’s he got wrong? Plenty of women would kill to be in your shoes, Liv.”
My eyes darted to our son. Alex sat slumped over, his screen lighting up with a buzz.
“Dave,” I set the plate down carefully. “Ever think I might be more than just a glorified housekeeper?”
“Here we go,” he rolled his eyes. “We agreed on this when you quit your job.”
“Or you *convinced* me it was ‘best for everyone’?”
Something in my tone made him finally look up. Our eyes locked—and for a second, I caught a flicker of fear in his. Did he really think I hadn’t noticed? The glances, the ‘accidental’ touches?
Alex suddenly pushed back his chair. “Can I go? Got a coding assignment.”
“Of course, love,” I said, still staring at David.
The slam of the front door echoed through the flat. Natalie scarpered. David clattered plates into the sink.
“Leave those. Sit down.”
“What’s this about?” He hovered by the tap.
“That I’m not your dishwasher. Remember who I was before you decided ‘kids need Mum at home’?”
“Not this again.”
“No. *You* decided. Like always.”
His phone pinged. A text.
“Not replying? Natalie, was it?”
“Enough. You’re being irrational.”
“Irrational? Let’s talk *rational*. Explain this ‘work project’ with my best friend.”
The slap cracked like a whip. But it wasn’t him hitting me—it was me, smacking him square across the cheek.
“Mum?” Alex’s voice from the hallway made us both jump. “Off to Jake’s. That alright?”
“’Course, sweetheart.”
At 3 a.m., the front door banged shut. Alex?
“Where’ve you been?” I leaned against the kitchen doorway.
He flinched, shoving something into his pocket.
“Al, what’s going on?”
“I… dropped out uni. Two months back. Never wanted to code—that’s *Dad’s* dream. Mine’s photography.”
“The money? Who’s after you?”
“Took a loan. Five grand for a course. Now they’re threatening to tell Dad.”
“We’ll sort it tomorrow,” I started—
The lock turned. David.
“Late night?” His voice was rough, whisky thick on his breath.
“Dad, I can explain—” Alex stepped between us.
“Explain *what*? That my son’s a liar? Natalie told me. About uni.”
I froze. “*Natalie?*”
“Shocking, isn’t it? At least *someone* here respects me enough to be honest.”
“Enough,” I said, staring at David.
“‘Enough’? *You* raised him like this!” He turned on me. “Speaking of lies—how’s Natalie? Tired of all those *business meetings*?”
“Shut it,” David hissed.
“Or what? Hit me? In front of your son?”
Alex strode past us. “I’m done. You two… you *deserve* each other.”
The door slammed.
“Happy now?” David’s voice shook.
Then—the doorbell rang.
Natalie stood there, mascara smeared, hair wild. “We need to talk.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” David snapped.
“Same as always,” she breezed past him, collapsing at the table. “Wrecking lives. Face it, Liv—he promised *me* he’d leave too. Said I was ‘special.’ Then I found out about Laura from Accounts. And Steph from spin class.”
“Shut your mouth!” David slammed a fist on the table.
“Oh, no. Truth time. Your son’s uni dropout? *I* told his girlfriend. Convinced her he’d dump her. So she started blackmailing him.”
“*Why?*” I managed.
“Dunno. Maybe I wanted you all to feel as empty as me?” She stood, pausing at the door. “Funny bit? I actually *did* think you were my best friend.”
The door clicked shut.
“Liv…” David stepped toward me.
“Don’t. Just go.”
“Let’s talk—”
“About *what*? It’s 4 a.m. Our son’s gone. Your mistress just confessed. And I… I’m tired of *handling* things. Leave the keys on the side.”
He nodded, slowly dropping them on the console. Hesitated.
“Sorry.”
Another slam. Alone. My phone buzzed. Alex: *Mum, I’m fine. Don’t look for me. Just let me go.*
I typed: *Take care. Love you.*
Then scrolled to *Natalie*. Delete?
My thumb hovered. In the end, she’d done what I never could—smashed the pretty lie wide open. I hit *delete*… and smiled for the first time in years.