Every morning, Emily woke to the sound of rain tapping softly against the window and gazed out at heavy, grey clouds that stretched across the London skyline. The weather eerily matched her moodrestless, uncertain, and weighed down with vague suspicions.
For the third week running, her husband, Oliver, packed his duffle bag and made a declaration:
My parents arent feeling well again, love, so Ill pop over for a couple of days to help.
The first time, Emily accepted his words compassionately. Olivers mum, Margaret, had recently had surgery on her gallbladder, and his dad, David, often complained about high blood pressure. At sixty-five, she reasoned, health issues were a reasonable concern.
Of course, go, Emily told him. Please send my regards and let them know Im thinking of them.
Oliver would leave Friday evening and return Monday morning, weary and withdrawn like someone ending a tough shift. When she asked about his parents, his answers were brief:
Theyre doing a bit better. Still weak, though.
And what exactly is troubling your mum? Emily asked.
Oh, everything aches. Its just her age, Oliver replied dismissively.
The second occurrence was just a week later.
Are they unwell again? Emily queried.
Mum took a tumble, bruised herself. Dads rattled. I need to go help out, Oliver explained, sliding clean shirts into his bag.
Should I come along to help?
No need, honestly. The house is small, and youre busy with your own work. Best if you stay home, he insisted.
Emily agreed. She always kept her distance out of respect, never imposing herself or offering unwanted advice. Margaret was polite but not particularly warm, so their conversations lacked genuine closeness.
The third trip came the following weekend.
Whats the problem this time? Emily asked, watching Oliver stash jeans and a jumper into his bag.
Dads blood pressure is all over the place, Mum cannot manage alone.
Have you called a doctor for them?
We have, but you know how GPs are these daysarrived, prescribed a few tablets, and left.
Oliver sounded plausible, but something about his tone unsettled Emily. It felt rehearsed, strangely devoid of real concern.
Oliver, perhaps they should be admitted to hospital if its so serious?
They dont want thatfrightened of hospitals. They find it easier at home.
He zipped up his bag and kissed her cheek. Try not to worry. Ill be back as quick as I can.
Once Oliver left, Emilys worries grew. She tried to recall the last time shed spoken to Margareta month ago, for her friends birthday. Margaret sounded upbeat, asked about Emily’s work, and chatted about gardening. No complaints, in fact, she boasted about her tomato crop and winter plans.
How odd, Emily mumbled, looking out at the autumn rain. If shes so unwell, why hasnt she called? She always let me know when she was ill.
On Monday, Oliver came home even more downcast.
How are your parents? Emily asked.
Dads better. Mums still weak.
And what did the doctor say?
Which doctor? Oliver looked confused.
The GPyou mentioned hed visited.
Oh, yes. Said to keep an eye. If things worsen, hospital.
He changed clothes quickly and focused on the computer, making it clear he didnt want further questioning.
Later that night, as Oliver showered, Emily did something shed never done beforechecked his phone. There were no calls to or from his parents. Not a single contact with Margaret or David in the past fortnight.
That cant be right, Emily whispered. If Oliver is staying with them, why no calls?
Typically, whenever Oliver was away, his parents would ring Emily to check in or ask if she needed anything. This time, silence.
Olivers fourth trip fell that Friday.
Another visit to your parents? Emily asked.
Yeah. Mums running a feverthink shes caught a chill.
Oliver, should I come with you to help?
Why complicate things? Youve got enough on your plate, he answered abruptly.
I dont mind. After all, theyre your parents, which makes them mine, too.
Emily, please. Its crowded enough, and you might catch something.
He packed hurriedly, avoiding her gaze, as if rushing for a train.
What train are you taking?
Just the regular, evening one.
Shall I walk you to the station?
No needIll get there myself.
With a hurried kiss, Oliver left. Emily stayed in the flat, surrounded by unanswered questions and increasingly odd coincidences.
Saturday morning was spent in tangled thoughts, unable to quiet her mind. She wondered if she was simply being a paranoid wife rather than sensible. Maybe his parents really were ill, and her suspicions were unfounded.
By lunchtime, Emily resolved to take action. If Margaret and David were unwell, surely theyd appreciate her care. Shed bake her mums special fruit cake, buy some apples and oranges, and make an unannounced visit.
Ill surprise them, Emily decided. And Oliver, too.
The kitchen was alive with reassuring chaos as she mixed the cake batter. While it baked, Emily went out for fruit and juice. By three oclock, everything was readythe fragrant cake cooling, the fruit bagged by the door. Wearing a smart dress and with a touch of makeup, she made her way to the station.
On the train, Emily pictured Olivers reaction to her surprise. Hed open the door, see her carrying treats, blink in confusion, then break into a smile.
Emily? What brings you here? hed say.
I thought Id check up on youand your parents, shed reply.
The journey to the parents home in a quiet Surrey village took an hour and a half. Oliver had grown up in their two-storey house with a garden, knowing every corner.
Emily arrived at the familiar gate and rang the bell. A minute later, Margaret answered, surprised.
Emily? What are you doing here?
She looked perfectly healthy: rosy cheeks, clear eyes, no sign of illness. Dressed in a tracksuit, her hair neatly tied back.
Hello, Margaret, Emily greeted nervously. Oliver said you were unwellI wanted to visit.
Unwell? Margaret laughed heartily. Illness? Were fit as fiddles! Where did you get that idea?
Emily felt her face flush; her heart pounded, and the bags suddenly seemed heavy.
But Oliver said he was caring for you, that you were sick.
Caring? Oh, Emily, we havent seen our son in over a weekmaybe longer!
From inside came Davids voice.
Margaret, whos there?
Emilys come to see us! Margaret called out.
David appeared in the hallway: grey-haired, robust, dressed in work trousers and a checked shirt, clearly fresh from the shed.
Oh, Emily! What brings you here? You dont come by often!
David, wheres Oliver? Emily asked directly.
No idea. Probably at work or at your place.
He said hed come here to look after youbecause youre both ill.
David exchanged glances with Margaret.
Emily, were not ill. Olivers not been here for ages. Last time waswhen was it, Margaret?
St Peters Day, in July,” Margaret recalled. He came for his dads birthday.
Thats right. He hasnt called since, David confirmed.
Emily felt her world collapse. Every tale Oliver had spun about tending to ailing parents was pure fabricationa blatant, shameless lie.
Emily, are you alright? Youre looking pale. Come in for a cup of tea, Margaret urged, concerned.
Thank you, but I really should go, Emily muttered.
Go? Youve only just arrived! And you brought cake! Dont rush off, Margaret protested.
Another time, Emily said, offering the bags. These are for you. Enjoy.
So wheres Oliver, then? David asked. Not with you?
I dont know, Emily replied honestly.
Margaret and David waved her off at the gate, puzzled. Emily walked to the bus stop, numb, her mind swirling.
Where had Oliver spent his weekends? With whom? Why had he used his parents as cover? How long had this been going on?
The bus to the station crawled for half an hour. Emily stared out at the bleak September countryside, piecing together the past monthOlivers supposed visits now cruel charades, his explanations manipulative ploys.
So, while I worried over his parents, he Emily couldnt finish the thought.
On the train back, she took out her phone, intending to ring Oliver, but thought better of it. What was there to ask? Where are you? Who are you with? Why the lies?
She decided to wait until she saw him face-to-face.
Emily arrived home at eight, the flat quiet and empty. She settled onto the sofa, waiting.
Oliver returned Monday morning, as usual. Keys jingled, the door swung open. He entered, tired and dishevelled, bag slung over his shoulder.
Morning, he grunted, heading for the bedroom. How were your weekends?
Fine, Emily replied calmly. And yours?
Stressful. My parents arent well.
Really? Emily rose from the sofa. What, specifically, is wrong?
Mums got a fever. Dad spent all night measuring his blood pressure. Its exhausting.
Oliver wouldnt meet her eyes, unpacking dirty laundry, placing medicine bottles from his bag.
Oliver, Emily said softly. Look at me.
He glanced up, uneasy.
Where have you been these past days? Emily asked directly.
Where else? At my parents. I told you.
Your parents are healthy. They havent seen you for a week.
Oliver froze, shirt in hand.
What are you talking about?
I went to see them yesterdaywanted to help. Margaret laughed when I mentioned illness.
His face went pale.
You went to my parents house? Why?
Because I believed you. Thought they needed care.
Emily, you dont understand
What dont I understand? she interrupted. That youve lied to me for a month? Used your parents as cover?
Its not a lie
So what is it? Where were you, Oliver? With whom?
He turned away, staring out the window.
I cant explain right now.
Cant or wont?
Emily, trust meits not what you think.
And what exactly do I think? she asked coolly.
That Ive got someone else. Another woman.
And is that true?
Oliver was silent for a minute, then sighed heavily.
Yes, he admitted quietly.
Emily nodded. Oddly, she felt no anger nowjust clarity and emptiness.
I see.
Its not serious, Oliver protested. Just it happened.
A month ago?
No, before that. I didnt know how to tell you.
So you lied about your parents being ill?
I was trying to figure myself out. To see what I really wanted.
And did you?
He fell silent again.
Oliver, Im askingdid you work out what you want?
Im not sure, he said honestly.
But I am, Emily replied. I want someone who doesnt lie, who doesnt use sick parents to cover an affair.
Its not just a fling
Call it what you will; youve been deceiving me for a month.
She walked into the bedroom and took out a small suitcase.
What are you doing? Oliver asked, anxious.
Im packing. Staying with a friend, at least until we sort this out.
Sort what out?
Youyour feelings. Methe paperwork for a divorce.
Emily, wait! Lets talk calmly
Whats there to talk about? Your month-long deception? My needless worry over your healthy parents?
I didnt want to hurt you
So you hurt me even more.
Emily took her documents from the safe, put her phone and charger in her bag.
If you want to explain, call me. But I doubt any excuse will make up for a month of lies.
What about our home? Our family?
Family means trust, Emily replied. We can split the house through the solicitors.
She approached the door.
Please, Emilymaybe we can try again? Ill end everything, start afresh
Afresh, with more lies about sick parents?
I wont lie again. I promise.
Oliver, Emily paused at the threshold, You promised to be faithful. Look how that turned out.
She left the flat, closing the door behind her. The stairwell was quiet with the muffled sound of distant music.
Outside, a gentle drizzle fellthe same rain as when it all began. Emily raised her collar and walked toward the Underground.
Her phone rang as she descended the steps; Olivers name appeared. She rejected the call and tucked it away in her bag.
Her mind was made up. Living with someone who hid behind the excuse of supposedly ill parents for a month just to cover up betrayalshe couldnt do it anymore. Trust, once broken, meant the family was, too.
There would be solicitor meetings, splitting assets, and a fresh start. But at least it would be a life built on honesty. No more lies about sick parents, or secret weekends with another woman.
The train carried Emily away from her past, into an uncertain but authentic future.
In the end, she understood that truth and trust mattered more than appearances or comfort. Sometimes, a painful revelation clears the way for a new, honest beginninga lesson that would shape her life from then on.
