**Shadows of the Past and a New Path**
I got back from work to our flat in Pinewood. Unlocking the door, I froze in the hallway. Next to my shoes and my husband’s trainers stood a pair of unfamiliar boots—polished, elegant, with a low heel. I knew them immediately—Helen’s, my husband’s sister. *Why is she here? James didn’t mention she’d be visiting.* A knot of unease tightened in my chest. I nearly called out for him, but something held me back. Instead, I stayed quiet, listening to the voices drifting from the living room. What I heard made my stomach drop.
“Emily, is he off on another business trip?” Tom, my colleague, caught up with me in the office car park. “Fancy popping into the café? Grab your usual vanilla latte, have a proper chat—lately, we hardly see each other.”
“Sorry, Tom, not today,” I forced a smile. “James promised to be home early. We’re finally picking out kitchen furniture—still settling in after the renovation. And, well… he hasn’t been travelling much lately.”
“Always home on time, then?” A hint of teasing laced his voice.
“Not always,” I sighed. “We’re saving—every penny counts. Once the place is sorted, things’ll ease up.”
“Right,” he smirked, wished me a good evening, and walked off.
The bus came quickly—luck for once. Sitting by the window, I let my thoughts drift. Years ago, I nearly married Tom. A stupid argument drove us apart, something so trivial I can’t even recall it now. Then James came along, and in my rush to prove I hadn’t been left heartbroken, I said yes without hesitation. *See? I moved on. Your loss.*
Tom tried to fix things. Apologies, promises, grand declarations—I’d brushed them off, too wrapped up in James. I convinced myself I’d never loved Tom, that it was all a mistake. Then, a few months ago, he transferred to our branch. He acted surprised to see me, but I wondered if he’d orchestrated it. Part of me was flattered he still wasn’t married, still looked at me the same way. Deep down, I wished him happiness—but there was a twinge of envy for whoever ended up with him. He had a way of making romance feel effortless.
James was a good husband, but lately, he’d been working later and later. Everything was *for our future*, but what about now? We lived in his sister Helen’s flat—a generous offer, she’d said, while her kids were young. Helen and her husband never worried about money, with their property portfolio and no need for jobs. James had jumped at the chance when she offered us the place. We redecorated, made it ours—but sometimes, I wished we’d rented furnished. The renovation cost more than years of rent would’ve, but James had been adamant.
Stepping off the bus, I hurried home. The air smelled of rain, but I barely noticed. How long had we been here? A year? Eighteen months? Time blurred, but the flat never quite felt like *ours*. We fixed it up, nested—but something always felt *pending*, like real happiness was perpetually just out of reach.
I slowed as I reached the building, dragging my feet. The door creaked open into dim light. Climbing the stairs, dread prickled at the back of my neck.
Inside, I stopped dead. Beside my shoes and James’s trainers stood Helen’s boots—expensive, pristine. *Why is she here?* I couldn’t remember James mentioning her visit.
I nearly called out—then stopped. Something told me to wait. I listened.
“Michael and I planned a holiday,” Helen was saying, “but he can’t get the time off. So I’m giving the trip to you—on one condition. You go with Rebecca, not Emily.”
My blood ran cold. *Rebecca?* James had mentioned her before—Helen’s failed attempt at matchmaking ages ago. I’d shrugged it off then, but now…
“Helen, I don’t *want* Rebecca,” James snapped. “I’ve told you—I’m with Emily. Why do you keep doing this?”
Relief flickered. *Same old Helen.* I nearly walked in—then she spoke again.
“Who are you fooling?” Her voice turned sharp. “I remember how you felt about Rebecca. You were going to *marry* her before that stupid fallout. Drop the act—Emily isn’t right for you. Rebecca’s everything you actually want.”
I clutched the wall. *Marry her?* James had sworn Rebecca meant nothing.
“So what?” James sounded irritated—but uncertain. “That was years ago. I love Emily.”
“*Do* you?” Helen scoffed. “Face it—you married Emily to make Rebecca jealous when she left you. And now Rebecca’s *back*, begging for another chance, and you’re clinging to this farce.”
The floor tilted. *A revenge marriage?* Just like I’d rushed into things with James after Tom. But I *loved* James—had turned Tom down every time he reached out. And James had been hiding *this*?
“It’s in the past,” he muttered. “I’m married. I’ve made commitments.”
“To *what*?” Helen laughed. “No kids, thank God. And let’s not forget—this flat’s *mine*. With Emily, you’ll always be scrambling. Rebecca’s parents just gave her a massive flat—brand new, spacious. She still loves you, you know. Waits for you to come to your senses.”
I pressed against the wall, tears burning. How could she say these things? Worse—James stayed silent.
“Enough, Helen,” he finally said—weakly. “Where we live doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.”
“You’re just scared,” she pushed. “Rebecca was always better for you. This *spite* is eating you alive—but it’s not too late. With her, you’d have stability, a home—everything you deserve. Admit it—you’ll never be happy with Emily.”
“Does Rebecca know about this?” James asked suddenly.
“Of *course*,” Helen said. “This was *her* idea—the trip. She’s sure you still love her.”
Silence. My head spun. *Why isn’t he denying it?*
“What do I tell Emily?” he whispered.
“Say you’re helping me at the country house,” Helen said breezily. “Tell her it’s renovations. Then take Rebecca to the coast. Simple.”
I couldn’t stay. Slipping out unnoticed, I staggered away, no destination in mind.
I ended up at a quiet café in the village centre. Rain tapped the windows as I slumped into a seat, ordering a cinnamon latte I didn’t touch. Helen’s words looped in my head. How long had James lied? Was our marriage *nothing* to him?
Darkness fell. James hadn’t called, hadn’t wondered where I was. *Probably packing for his trip already.* My phone had died—deliberately ignored.
Finally, I dragged myself back. The flat was silent—no TV, no clattering in the kitchen. Suitcases stood in the living room. James was packing. *This is it. Off to Helen’s, then Rebecca.*
“What are you doing?” My voice barely worked.
“Emily—we’re leaving,” he said. “I found a place. Temporary, but we’ll sort the mortgage later.” He frowned. “Where *were* you? I’ve been calling all evening—your phone’s off. Extra shift?”
I stared. The speech I’d rehearsed dissolved.
“Leaving?” I managed.
James noticed my shock and came closer. “Had a row with Helen,” he admitted. “I’m done—no more relying on her charity. We need our own place.”
The tension lessened—but not enough. He sat me down and told me everything.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” he murmured. “Yes, Rebecca and I were serious. And yes—at first, marrying you was about proving something to her. But Emily, that’s *over*. You’re the one I love. I won’t lose you.”
Relief swelled, tangled with lingering hurt. At least it was out now.
“When you told me about Tom,” he continued, “I thought bringing up Rebecca would just complicate things. Then I was scared.”
Tears welled—but they were lighter somehow.
“Okay,” I whispered. “What’s done is done. You found a flat?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Temporary, but ours. No Helen. No interference. We’ll make it work.”
I nodded, something like hope flickering. For the first time in ages, I believed we could finally build a life—just us. No shadows, no meddling.
“Ready to pack?” James smiled.
I nodded, wordless. Whatever came next, we’d face it together.
