The Shadow of Betrayal
For six straight days, Emily refused to speak to her husband. It had all begun the previous Tuesday over something trivial—Edward had forgotten to take the meat out of the freezer, even though she’d reminded him twice. Yet, as soon as he got home from work, he’d buried himself in his laptop again, lost in frantic reports.
“Edward!” Emily’s voice from the kitchen was sharp with anger. “Are you deliberately ignoring me? What am I supposed to cook for dinner if the meat’s still frozen?”
“Sorry, love,” he muttered, not looking up. “Got swamped. Fancy ordering pizza? Or maybe sushi?”
“Order whatever you like!” she snapped, grabbing her coat.
“Where are you going?” Edward stepped into the hallway, blinking at her in confusion.
“Out.” The door slammed behind her before he could say another word.
Edward shrugged and went back to his screen. Two hours later, he ordered pizza, expecting Emily back any minute. But she didn’t return until midnight, when the streets of Manchester had long surrendered to winter’s hush.
“Where were you?” he demanded.
“Had dinner at a café,” she said coldly.
“Alone? At this hour?”
“What’s the problem? You didn’t care about dinner—I had to find my own.”
“Are you really holding a grudge over some chicken?” Edward snapped. “I forgot—big deal! Happens to everyone!”
“It’s not about the chicken!” Emily shrieked. “You don’t take me seriously! I might as well be invisible! My words mean nothing to you!”
“What?” Edward squinted, sensing the fight was blown out of proportion. But to keep the peace, he sighed, “Fine, I’ll set a phone reminder next time.”
That only poured fuel on the fire. Emily kept silent the next morning, ignored him that evening. By the third day, Edward had had enough. He tried to pull her into a hug, but she shoved him away and stormed off to the bedroom, door crashing shut behind her.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he muttered, irritation rising like a tide. Work was stressful enough—now home had turned into a warzone.
A week passed in suffocating silence. On Wednesday, a bank holiday, Edward decided to make amends. He got up early, made breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, coffee with her favourite vanilla foam. But when Emily walked in, she barely glanced at the table.
“We should break up,” she blurted out.
“What?!” Edward froze, as if struck by lightning. “Over a bit of chicken?!”
“Stop talking about the bloody chicken!” she yelled, fists clenched. “I told you, it’s not about that! This isn’t working! When we got married, you were different—attentive, caring. Now I’m lucky if you even look at me!”
“What are you on about?” Edward still loved her, still tried for their marriage. “How am I not attentive? We go to the cinema, to restaurants together! Yes, I’m busy weekdays, but weekends are all yours!”
“I don’t feel you anymore,” Emily said icily. “You’re somewhere else in your head. I’m just an afterthought.”
“An afterthought?” Edward’s chest tightened. “I’m distracted, sure—because of work! You know the pressure I’m under!”
“Exactly!” she cut in. “Always busy, yet what’s the result? With the hours you put in, you should be raking in millions, yet we’re still in this cramped flat! I dreamed of a holiday by the sea, but with you, that’ll never happen.”
“Em, I’m working my arse off!” Edward pleaded. “I want a bigger place, a proper holiday—just give me time, it’ll happen!”
“Three years married, and nothing’s changed.” Her voice turned glacial. “You promised this before the wedding. I was a fool to believe you.”
“So you married me for promises?” Edward’s heart ached. “I thought you loved me.”
“I did, but—” Emily caught herself, realising she’d gone too far. “I’ve said enough. I’ll pack my things.”
Left alone, Edward stared at the cooling breakfast, unable to fathom their marriage crumbling over forgotten meat. As she packed, he begged her to stay, but she ignored him. Suitcase in hand, she left without a word.
For weeks, Edward drifted in a daze. He waited for Emily to return, laugh it off, say it was a joke. But she never did. He called, begged to meet. At first, she refused—then changed her number.
When divorce papers arrived, he knew he’d lost her for good. He stopped reaching out, withdrew into himself.
One day, he bumped into Emily’s cousin, Victoria. Her pitying look said she knew everything. Victoria had never been fond of her cousin and was quick to gossip.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, sympathy dripping.
“Fine,” Edward forced a smile.
“Good,” she patted his shoulder. “I know how it feels, being left for someone else. But you’re better off—you’re a decent man.”
“Someone else?” Edward stiffened.
“You didn’t know?” Victoria smirked. “Emily’s shagging her boss! They’ve been at it for ages. He divorced his wife, and she jumped at the chance.”
“How do you know?” His voice cracked.
“Dad’s birthday last week,” she giggled. “Emily rocked up with her new bloke. Bragged all night about how rich and successful he is. Said happiness is all about money. Looked thrilled with herself.”
Rage and pain twisted inside Edward. He hated her for the betrayal, hated himself for not being enough. Saying goodbye, he trudged home, replaying her cruelty in his head.
But time dulled the hurt. Eventually, he even felt grateful. Six months later, he got the promotion he’d worked for. Selling the flat, he bought a spacious place in Manchester’s heart.
There, he met Amelia, a new colleague. Friendship turned to love, and a year later, they married.
He heard little of Emily, just scattered rumours. Her fling with the businessman lasted a year—then he returned to his wife, dropping her from the company.
Once, Edward spotted her in a supermarket. She stood by the shelves, eyes hollow. Noticing him, she turned and hurried away. He almost called out—almost asked how she was—but thought better of it. Gloating felt petty.
With Amelia, he was happy. And deep down, he thanked Emily for her betrayal. Without it, he’d never have found real love. Turning, he went to find his wife among the aisles, eager to hold her tight.
