Shadows of the Past and a New Path
Emma returned to her flat in Pinewood after work. Unlocking the door, she froze in the hallway. Neatly placed beside her shoes and her husband’s trainers were a pair of unfamiliar boots. She recognised them instantly—they belonged to her sister-in-law, Claire. “What’s she doing here? James didn’t mention her visiting,” Emma wondered, a knot of unease tightening in her chest. She wanted to call out to her husband, but instinct warned her to wait. Instead, she stayed quiet, listening to the conversation drifting from the living room. What she heard made her blood run cold.
“Emma, your husband off on another business trip?” called her colleague Thomas, catching up with her in the office car park. “Fancy a coffee? We could grab a latte, have a proper chat instead of just waving hello and goodbye all the time.”
“Sorry, Thomas, not today,” Emma replied with a forced smile. “James promised he’d be home early. We’re picking out kitchen furniture—still settling in after the renovation. And besides, he hasn’t been away on business in ages.”
“And he’s always home on time, is he?” Thomas’s voice carried a hint of sarcasm.
“Not always,” Emma sighed. “We need the money right now, so he’s putting in extra hours. Once we’ve got the flat sorted, maybe things will ease up.”
“Right,” Thomas smirked, wished her a good evening, and walked off.
Emma was lucky—the bus arrived quickly, though she usually had to wait. She took a seat by the window and lost herself in thought. Once, she’d nearly married Thomas. They’d split over a silly argument she couldn’t even remember now. Then James came along, and Emma, eager to prove to Thomas she’d moved on, rushed into marriage. “See, I’m not alone—now you’ll regret it,” she’d thought at the time.
Thomas had tried to make amends, begging for forgiveness, swearing he’d make her happy, but Emma was too caught up with James. She convinced herself she’d never loved Thomas, that it had all been a mistake. Over time, she almost forgot about him—until he was transferred to her branch from head office. Thomas acted like he was pleased to run into her, but Emma suspected he’d engineered the move after finding out where she worked. Part of her was flattered he was still single, that he still looked at her with warmth. Deep down, she wished him happiness, but somewhere in her heart, she envied his future wife—Thomas had always been charming, a true romantic.
James was a good husband, but lately, he was always at work. He said it was for their future, so they’d never want for anything, but it left little time for Emma. They lived in his sister Claire’s flat, which she’d kindly offered while her own children were young. Claire and her husband had no money worries—she’d never worked, and the flats they rented out were investments for their kids. Emma and James had renovated the place to their taste and were now furnishing it. But sometimes Emma regretted they hadn’t just rented somewhere ready. The renovation costs could have covered years of rent or a mortgage deposit. Still, James had leapt at the idea when Claire suggested it.
Emma stepped off the bus and hurried home. The air smelled of approaching rain, but she barely noticed the chill. Her thoughts tangled, refusing to settle. How long had it been since they’d moved in? A year? Eighteen months? Time blurred, but the sense that this was only temporary never faded. They’d decorated, made it theirs, yet it always felt like real happiness was just out of reach.
Approaching the building, Emma realised she was walking slowly, as if delaying her return. The front door creaked open, letting her into the dim hallway. As she climbed to the third floor, an inexplicable dread grew inside her.
Stepping inside, she halted. Beside her shoes and James’s trainers sat Claire’s elegant ankle boots—expensive, with a slight heel. “Why is she here?” Emma wondered, sure James hadn’t mentioned a visit.
She almost called out but stopped herself. Instinct said wait. Emma held her breath, listening to the voices from the living room.
“John and I wanted a holiday,” Claire was saying. “But he can’t get the time off, so I thought I’d give the tickets to you. On one condition—you go with Sophie, not Emma.”
Emma froze. “Sophie?” She remembered James mentioning the name once, how Claire had tried to set them up. She’d brushed it off, but now her stomach twisted with dread.
“Claire, I don’t want Sophie,” James snapped. “How many times? I’m with Emma. Why are you starting this again?”
Emma exhaled in relief. Same old Claire, meddling as usual. She was about to walk in when Claire’s next words stopped her.
“Who are you kidding?” Claire’s voice sharpened. “I remember how you felt about Sophie. You were going to marry her, then you got petty over some nonsense. Stop lying to yourself—Emma’s not right for you. Sophie’s a different league.”
Emma stood rooted, disbelief flooding her. Loved her? Planned to marry her? James had said Sophie meant nothing. She stared at the floor, fighting for composure, but Claire’s words burned.
“So what?” James sounded irritated, but there was hesitation. “That’s all in the past. Yes, it happened, but it’s over. I love Emma.”
“Love her?” Claire scoffed. “Come off it, James. We both know you married Emma to make Sophie jealous after she left you. Then she came back, begging for forgiveness. But you married Emma out of spite.”
The ground seemed to vanish beneath Emma. Out of spite? Was her whole marriage just revenge on another woman? She remembered rushing into things with James after her breakup with Thomas. Had he done the same? She’d loved James with everything, even turning Thomas away—but had he ever truly loved her? She held her breath, waiting for his reply.
“That’s done with,” James said quietly. “I’m married. I have responsibilities.”
“What responsibilities?” Claire snorted. “No kids, thank God. And don’t forget where you’re living. With Emma, you’ll always be drifting. Sophie’s parents just gave her a gorgeous flat—spacious, brand new. And she still loves you, waits for you to come to your senses.”
Emma leaned against the wall, tears stinging her eyes. How could Claire say these things? Worse was James’s silence. She waited, terrified of the truth.
“Enough, Claire,” James finally said, but his voice lacked conviction. “A home isn’t everything. We’ll manage, save up for our own place.”
“You’re just scared of change,” Claire pressed. “Sophie was always better for you. You’re holding onto pride, but it’s not too late. With her, you’d have stability, a proper life—everything you deserve. Admit it—you’ll never be happy with Emma.”
“And one more thing,” Claire added, lowering her voice. “You know I can’t let you stay here forever. I’ve got plans—you’ll need to move soon.”
“Does Sophie know what you’re doing?” James asked suddenly.
“Of course!” Claire said briskly. “This holiday was her idea. She asked me to arrange it. She’s sure you still love her.”
Silence fell. Emma’s head spun. Why wasn’t James speaking? Was he actually considering this?
“What do I tell Emma?” he murmured.
“Say you’re helping me at the cottage,” Claire replied lightly. “We’ve got renovations. Then go to the coast with Sophie. Simple.”
Emma couldn’t listen anymore. She slipped out silently and wandered away, not caring where she went.
Her feet led her to a small café in the town centre. Inside, soft music played as rain drizzled outside. Emma sat by the window, ordering a cinnamon latte, and stared at the dark glass reflecting streetlights. Claire’s words echoed in her mind. How could James hide this from her? Had their whole marriage been a lie? She felt betrayed, but worse was the hurt. She’d thought he’d chosen her—now everything was crumbling.
Outside, night fell, but Emma stayed, her latte untouched. James hadn’t even called. “Probably packing for his trip with Sophie,” she thought bitterly. Checking her phone, she saw the battery was dead.
With a heavy sigh, Emma decided to go back. She pulled on her coat and stepped into the cold rain, each step convincing her the marriage was over. Divorce was inevitable, and she braced herself for the conversation.
Returning to the flat, she froze. An odd silence hung in the air—no TV, no kitchen noises. Luggage stood in the middle of the room. James was packing. “So that’s it,” she thought. “Off to Claire’s cottage, then to Sophie.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, though the answer seemed obvious.
“Emma, we’re leaving,” James said unexpectedly. “I found us a place. Temporary, but we’ll figure out a mortgage laterHe turned to her with a tired but determined smile, his eyes finally free of secrets.
