On my husbands birthday, our son pointed at the guests and shouted, Thats her! Shes wearing that skirt! I couldnt refuse him.
Please, Mum, he pleaded. I promised my friends Id bring the blanket and drinks. And I told them youd make those caramel chocolate brownies too.
So, being the good mother I am, I started searching. Old suitcases, tangled cables, broken fans from summers long gone. Then, tucked in a corner, I saw ita sleek black box, elegant and square, hidden like a secret. I wasnt being nosy, but curiosity got the better of me. I lifted the lid gently and sat on the carpet, my breath catching.
Inside was a satin skirtdeep violet, soft as a whisper, with delicate embroidery at the hem. Sophisticated. Beautiful.
And familiar.
Id shown it to my husband, James, months earlier while we strolled through town. Passing a boutique, Id pointed it out in the window. Too extravagant, Id said, though deep down, I hoped hed remember.
You deserve something luxurious now and then, hed laughed.
So, when I found the skirt, neatly folded in tissue paper, I knew. It had to be my birthday gift. A quiet joy settled over me. Maybe things were still good between us.
Not wanting to ruin the surprise, I closed the box, tucked it away, and handed Michael an old blanket instead. I even bought a blouse to match the skirt, setting it aside in my drawer for the right moment.
My birthday came. The family gathered. James handed me a wrapped gift with a boyish grin.
Books.
A lovely stack of carefully chosen novelsbut no sign of the skirt. Not a word about it.
I waited. Perhaps he was saving it for a special dinner, just the two of us.
That moment never came.
Days later, I sneaked back into the wardrobe for another look. But the box was gone. Vanished without a trace.
Still, I said nothing. I didnt want to be the wife who doubted, who jumped to conclusions.
Hope keeps us standing, even when we know better.
Three months passed. No sign of the skirt. No explanation. Just silence.
Then one afternoon, as I baked lemon cakes for a wedding order, Michael walked into the kitchen, shoulders tense.
Mum? he said quietly. I have to tell you something. About that skirt.
I set the spatula down.
I know Dad bought it, he began. When we went to the mall for my football boots, he told me to wait outside. Said he had something to pick up.
My stomach twisted.
Then one day, he continued, I skipped school. Came home early to grab my skateboard but I heard voices upstairs. I thought it was you and Dad.
He swallowed hard.
But youre never home at that time. I got scared. Hid under the bed.
My heart ached for him.
She laughed, Mum. It wasnt you. I saw her legs. She was wearing the skirt.
The room spun slowly around me.
I pulled him into my arms. No child should carry such a secret.
Days later, I hosted Jamess birthday party. I cooked, cleaned, smiled.
I wore a navy-blue dress and red lipstick. I slipped on the heels I always regret after an hour. And I played my partthe gracious wife, the warm host, the steady pillar.
Inside, I was crumbling.
The party buzzed with chatter and music until Michael tugged my sleeve.
Mum, he whispered, eyes wide. Its her. The skirt. Shes wearing it.
I followed his gaze.
Emily.
Jamess assistant. She stood by the wine table, glowing, confident in that unmistakable violet satin skirtthe one hed hidden, the one I thought was for me.
She stood beside her husband, Daniel, glass in hand, beaming.
I picked up a tray of canapés and crossed the room with a smile.
Emily! That skirt suits you beautifully. Where did you find it?
She blinked, surprised. Oh thank you. It was a gift.
How lovely, I said sweetly. FunnyI had one just like it. Found it in the house once. Then it disappeared.
Her smile faltered.
Across the room, James watched, frozen.
Daniel! I called. Join us! We were admiring Emilys skirt. And Jamescome here!
The four of us stood in a circle. Emilys hand trembled on her glass. Daniel looked confused. James seemed shattered.
I loved that skirt, I said softly. I thought it was for me. But now I see it was for someone else.
James coughed. I gave it to Emily. As a bonus. For her excellent work.
How thoughtful, I replied, calm. For her performance at work or for her lunchtime visits to our bedroom?
Silence.
Daniel stepped back from Emily. Her eyes filled with shame, and I stood there, knowing my life from that moment onward would be mine alone.
Sometimes, the truth doesnt set you freeit simply shows you the door.
