**The Mystery at the Edge of Town**
Edward was celebrating his birthday. He decided to spend it with his family at a picturesque countryside cottage on the outskirts of the Peak District. Upon arriving, Edward took the children for a walk along the winding paths that disappeared among the pines. His wife, Emily, stayed behind to prepare the celebratory roast. She was deftly chopping vegetables for the salad when suddenly, the sharp ring of a phone pierced the quiet. It was Edward’s mobile, left on the oak table. The ringing wouldn’t stop, and with a sigh, Emily picked up.
“Hello?” she said softly.
An eerie silence lingered on the other end before the call abruptly cut off. Emily froze, gripping the phone, her heart pounding with unease. Just then, Edward returned with the children, their voices bright and cheerful—until he spotted the phone in her hand. His expression darkened instantly.
“What are you doing with my phone?” he snapped, a shadow flickering in his eyes.
“Someone called… but they stayed silent,” Emily mumbled, her voice trembling.
Edward snatched the phone from her, his gaze stormy. What happened next made her chest tighten with fear.
Emily had met Edward fifteen years ago in a cosy café in the heart of York, where she worked as a waitress. That evening had been full of laughter and chatter when Edward and his friends walked in. He’d seemed quiet yet carried a magnetic confidence that drew eyes his way.
Near midnight, the group left, leaving generous tips. Edward lingered by Emily’s side, murmuring—almost whispering—
“May I walk you home? When does your shift end?”
“Thank you, but I’m fine alone,” Emily replied, her cheeks flushing.
He smiled, said goodbye, yet when she stepped outside, he was there, waiting.
That chance encounter sparked their story—light as a spring breeze but growing into a steadfast marriage. Edward came from old money, and his family embraced Emily as their own. Her childhood had been shadowed: her parents divorced when she was twelve, her father left town and started anew, while her mother, drowning in bitterness, often left Emily alone.
After finishing school, Emily studied culinary arts in York, then took the café job. Life with Edward opened a new world. At twenty-seven, he was already in a high-ranking IT role. He funded her coding courses and helped her land a job at his firm.
“Edward, the work is so interesting!” she’d gushed one evening, sliding into the car after her shift. “Everyone’s so welcoming—nothing like the café!”
Edward gently squeezed her shoulder. “I knew you’d love it. Now, off to the supermarket? You promised me Stilton with herbs for dinner.”
“Can’t wait to cook it!” Emily laughed.
Their bond felt almost magical, as if they’d known each other forever. The only cloud was their struggle to have children. Doctors had shrugged: “It’s a lottery.” But they persisted. After years of treatments, their son Oliver arrived, followed two years later by their daughter Poppy.
Edward became the ideal father and husband, handling all finances. Emily devoted herself to the family, leaving work behind. But one evening, when the kids were in nursery, she mused,
“Edward… maybe I should go back to work? The children are at nursery all day, and I’m just… home.”
He looked at her, surprised. “Emily, seriously? You’d run between work and kids, then homework, clubs? You’re the best wife and mother—isn’t that enough?”
He pulled her into a hug, and Emily, smiling, relented. “Suppose you’re right.”
Six years passed. Oliver and Poppy started school, and Emily kept the home humming. She wasn’t bored—Edward had gifted her a car after she passed her test. Her days were a blur of school runs, activities, and errands. But when her cousin Martha called to visit, Emily lit up. Martha was the only family she stayed close to.
“Martha, I’ve missed you!” Emily cried, embracing her at the station.
Martha gave her a once-over. “Emily, you’ve changed… a little curvier,” she teased.
Emily flushed. “Two kids don’t exactly slim you down. But Edward says he likes me this way.”
“Well, if Edward says so, who am I to argue?” Martha winked. “Take me home—I need coffee and a hot shower!”
At home, Martha confessed her husband had left her for a younger woman.
“And the cheapskate kicked me out with just my bags!” Martha sobbed. “I’ve got some savings, but what now?”
Emily hugged her tight. “Want me to ask Edward about a job at his firm? The pay’s decent.”
Martha nodded eagerly. That evening, Emily told Edward about her cousin’s troubles.
“Not a problem,” he said. “She’s qualified—we’ll sort it. I’ll speak to HR tomorrow.”
“Thank you, love,” Emily said softly. “I knew you’d fix it.”
Six months later, Martha was working at Edward’s company, renting a flat but often staying over. One evening over tea, she groaned,
“Modern men are impossible! I’m smart, attractive—yet can’t find anyone decent!”
Emily laughed. “Martha, you just divorced! Already dreaming of another wedding?”
“Of course!” Martha exclaimed. “I’m made for love, not loneliness. Easy for you—you’ve got Edward. If I had a man like that, I’d be floating on air!”
Emily nodded, but unease prickled inside.
Lately, Edward was always working late, even weekends. The firm was launching a major project—his responsibility. Emily tried to be patient—he provided for them—but loneliness gnawed at her.
“Edward’s barely home,” she confided in Martha. “I know he’s doing it for us, but… I miss him.”
Martha shrugged. “Not my place, but your husband’s been acting odd. Whispering on calls, vanishing for hours.”
Emily tensed. “It’s the project. He wants everything perfect.”
“Your call,” Martha sighed, but her words left a bitter aftertaste.
For Edward’s birthday, they retreated to the Peak District cottage. Emily hoped the getaway would reignite their closeness. While Edward walked with the kids, she cooked. Then—the phone rang. Edward’s mobile. The insistent tone grated until Emily answered.
“Hello?”
Silence. The line went dead.
When Edward returned, his reaction was thunder from a clear sky.
“How dare you touch my phone?!” he shouted. “What if it was work? Stay out of my business!”
He ripped the phone from her and stormed outside. Emily stood frozen, tears streaming. She’d never seen him like this.
He apologised an hour later—said it was a client flustered by a woman’s voice—but the mood was ruined. That night, Emily lay awake, Martha’s warnings echoing. For the first time in their marriage, she didn’t trust her husband.
A week later, Martha visited. Emily recounted the incident.
“Told you,” Martha sighed. “Seen that new consultant from the partner firm? Stunning blonde, always lurking by Edward’s office. Who knows what’s going on…”
