On my husbands birthday, my son pointed at the guests and shouted, Thats her! Shes wearing that skirt! I couldnt refuse him.
Please, Mum, he begged. I promised my friends Id bring the blanket and the drinks. And I told them youd make those caramel chocolate cakes.
So, being the good mother I was, I started searching. Old suitcases, tangled cables, broken fans from summers long gone. And then, tucked away in the corner, I saw it.
A black box. Elegant, square, hidden like a secret. I wasnt snooping, but I couldnt resist. I pulled it out, sat on the carpet, and lifted the lid slowly.
My breath caught.
Inside was a satin skirtdeep violet, soft as a whisper, with delicate embroidery along the hem. Sophisticated. Beautiful.
And familiar.
I had shown it to Jamesmy husbandmonths before, when we were walking through town. We passed a boutique, and Id pointed to it in the window. Too extravagant, Id said, though deep down, Id hoped hed remember.
You deserve something luxurious now and then, hed chuckled.
So when I saw that skirt, carefully folded in tissue paper inside the box, I knew. It had to be my birthday gift. A quiet joy spread through me.
Maybe things were still good between us.
Not wanting to ruin the surprise, I closed the box, put it back, and handed my son Henry an old blanket. I even bought a blouse to match the skirt, tucking it away in my drawer, waiting for the right moment.
My birthday arrived. Family gathered. James handed me a gift with a boyish grin.
Books.
A lovely stack of carefully chosen novelsbut no sign of the skirt. No mention of it.
I waited. Maybe he was saving it for a special dinner, just the two of us.
That moment never came.
Days later, I crept back into the cupboard 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 is what keeps us standing, even when we know better.
Three months passed. No sign of the skirt. No word. Just silence.
Then one afternoon, as I baked lemon cakes for a wedding order, Henry walked into the kitchen. His eyes darted nervously, shoulders tense.
Mum? he said quietly. I need to tell you something. About that skirt.
I set the spatula down.
I know Dad bought it, he began. When we went to the high street for my football boots, he told me to wait outside. Said he had something to pick up.
My stomach twisted.
Then one day, Henry continued, I skipped school for a bit. Came home early to grab my skateboard but I heard voices upstairs. Thought it was you and Dad.
He paused, swallowing 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.
I froze, the room tilting around me.
Then I pulled him into my arms.
No child should carry a secret like that.
Days later, I hosted James birthday party. I cooked, cleaned, smiled.
I wore a navy blue dress and red lipstick. I slipped on the shoes 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 Henry tugged my sleeve.
Mum, he whispered, eyes wide. Its her. The skirt. Shes wearing it.
I followed his gaze.
Emily.
James assistant. She stood by the wine table, radiant and confident in that violet satin skirtimpossible to mistake.
The one hed hidden.
The one I thought was for me.
She stood beside her husband, Daniel, holding a glass, face glowing.
I picked up a tray of canapés and walked toward them with a smile.
Emily! That skirt suits you wonderfully. Where did you find it?
She blinked, startled. 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, stiff.
Daniel! I called. Come join us! We were admiring Emilys skirt. You too, James!
The four of us stood in a tense circle. Emilys hand trembled around her glass. Daniel looked confused. James was pale.
I loved that skirt, I said softly. I thought it was for me. But now I see it was for someone else.
James cleared his throat. I gave it to Emily. As a bonus. For her excellent work.
How thoughtful, I replied, voice steady. 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 on would be mine alone.
