“What’s the matter? Everything’s fine with me and William. We’re a proper family, no issues, the kids grew up just right.”
“William, did you forget your keys again?” Margaret sighed, recognising the familiar cough outside the door. Her husband never rang the bell—just stood there waiting for her to figure it out.
“Forgot,” muttered William, squeezing into the hallway. “Was in a rush this morning, had an important meeting.”
Margaret watched as he kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the middle of the corridor, and silently moved them to their place. Forty years of marriage had taught her not to fuss over trifles. William was a senior engineer at the factory, responsible for major projects—at home, he wanted peace and quiet. Couldn’t she just pick up after him?
“How was work?” she asked, ladling him a bowl of beef stew.
“Same as always. Management breathing down our necks, workers not getting it, old equipment. But we manage,” William flipped absently through the newspaper, eyes glued to the text.
Margaret almost brought up their neighbour, Elizabeth, who’d complained about her alcoholic son earlier, but stopped herself. William didn’t need other people’s problems after work.
“By the way,” her husband suddenly looked up, “They offered Thompson a promotion. Transferring to London, corporate office. Big role, triple the salary.”
“Good for him,” Margaret nodded, clearing the table.
“He recommended me for his position,” William added quietly.
Margaret froze, plates in hand.
“What do you mean?”
“Director’s deciding next week. If it goes through, I’ll be deputy chief engineer. Nearly double the pay, better benefits, extra holiday.”
William spoke calmly, but Margaret heard the suppressed excitement in his voice. She knew him inside out. He’d wanted this promotion for years but never showed ambition openly.
“William, that’s wonderful!” She sat beside him, taking his hand. “You’ve earned this. Years of hard work, never let the factory down.”
“Still might not happen,” he shrugged, but she could see him already imagining the new role.
That evening, William was unusually lively—talking about new projects he’d lead, business trips, finally replacing their old Ford with something better. Margaret listened, sharing his joy. After dinner, they even danced in the kitchen like they used to when they were young.
The next day, Margaret ran into Thompson’s wife, Sarah, in the garden.
“Congratulations!” Sarah smiled. “John mentioned William might take his position. Fantastic opportunity—we’re so happy for you.”
“Thanks, but nothing’s certain yet,” Margaret said cautiously.
“Oh, it practically is! John says they’re not even considering others. William’s the best in the department—everyone respects him.”
Margaret walked home lighter-hearted. So William’s hopes weren’t baseless. If Thompson said so, the promotion was nearly guaranteed.
She decided to make a celebratory dinner—bought beef for a roast, William’s favourite biscuits. As she cooked, she hummed to herself. It had been ages since she’d felt this happy.
William came home late, tired and grim.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, worried.
“Nothing special. Just a long day.” He sat at the table but didn’t touch his food.
“William, talk to me. Did you hear anything about the promotion?”
“They said the decision’s next week.”
“Is there a problem?”
William sighed heavily.
“It’s not that simple. Competition’s stiff. Edwards wants the role too. And Peters from the other department.”
“But Thompson said you’re the best candidate!”
“Thompson’s not the one deciding. Edwards has connections—his wife works at the council, his nephew’s the director’s son-in-law.”
Margaret’s heart sank. Was it not as certain as she’d thought?
The next day, she visited her friend Linda, who worked in HR at the same factory.
“Listen,” Margaret started before even taking off her coat, “what do you know about William’s promotion?”
Linda put the kettle on, fetched biscuits, and sat opposite her.
“There’s a vacancy. William’s a strong candidate.”
“What else? Who’s competing? What are his chances?”
“Margaret, you know I can’t share confidential details,” Linda hesitated.
“Linda, we’ve been friends for years! Just give me something. William’s beside himself, and I don’t know how to help.”
Her friend finally leaned in.
“Alright, just between us. His chances are good—he *is* the best. But there’s a catch. Heard about the new vetting policy?”
“What policy?”
“Now, for senior roles, they check not just the candidate but their family too. Reputation, any skeletons in the closet.”
Margaret frowned.
“And? William and I are fine. We’re a decent family, no problems, the kids turned out well.”
“Of course,” Linda agreed quickly. “Just know they’re thorough. Especially with the new director—he’s big on discipline.”
Margaret left deep in thought. What could they possibly find wrong with their family?
At home, she racked her brain. Their son James worked as an engineer in another city, settled with his own family. Their daughter Emily was married with two kids, a good husband. Margaret herself had worked at the library for decades—well-respected. William never drank, never caused trouble, the neighbours spoke well of him.
But unease lingered. She started recalling every tiny thing that might’ve harmed their reputation.
That evening, she couldn’t hold back.
“William, is it true they vet the family before promotions now?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Linda mentioned it. She works in HR.”
“Well, if they do, what’s there to hide?” William shrugged, but she noticed the tension in his voice.
“Nothing to hide, of course. Just wondering what they check.”
“Standard things. Background, references, any debts or criminal records. Routine.”
But Margaret sensed he was holding something back. She knew him too well to miss it.
The next few days passed in agonising wait. William was withdrawn, barely speaking. She tried to cheer him up with his favourite meals, but he had no appetite.
Then the unexpected happened.
PC Davies, their local officer—a familiar face since the old days—knocked on the door.
“Good evening, Margaret. Is William home?”
“He is. What’s wrong?”
“Just a small matter. Need to clarify something for a report.”
William came out, greeting the officer stiffly.
“William, you recall that incident five years ago? When your neighbour Harris beat his wife, and you filed a report?”
“I do,” William said shortly.
“Well, we’re reviewing details. You testified you witnessed the altercation. But Harris now claims no one was home, and you only filed the report because your wife asked you to.”
Margaret’s stomach dropped. She *had* urged William to step in. Harris regularly hit his wife, Lucy, who’d cried to Margaret but was too scared to go to the police.
“Is that true, William?” PC Davies asked. “Your wife asked you to file the report?”
William hesitated. Margaret saw the struggle in his eyes.
“It’s true,” he finally said. “She asked me. But I *did* see Lucy’s bruises.”
“I see,” the officer noted something. “So you wouldn’t have filed it unprompted?”
“Probably not,” William admitted.
When the officer left, heavy silence filled the house.
“William,” Margaret whispered, “you don’t regret helping Lucy, do you?”
“Don’t regret it,” he said tiredly. “But see how it looks? I filed a report because my wife told me to. Means I’m weak, no backbone, led by my wife.”
Margaret sank into a chair. Only now did she grasp the trap she’d set.
“But it was the right thing to do!”
“Right, yes. But bad for my career,” William gave a bitter smile. “A leader makes his own decisions, doesn’t follow his wife’s orders.”
She remembered all the times she’d advised him, asked favours, influenced his choices. How many times in forty years? She’d prided herself on being the wise wife, steering him tactfully away from mistakes.
Now that same wisdom might’ve ruined his promotion.
The decision came a week later. Edwards got the role. Officially—due to “greater leadership experience.”
But Linda later told Margaret the truth: the vetting showed William often acted on his wife’s influence. For a leadership role, that was deemed unsuitable.
William took the news calmly, as if he’d expected it.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Maybe it’s for the best. More responsibility, more headaches.”
But Margaret saw the change in him. More withdrawn, quieter. Sometimes she caught his gaze—not angry, not accusing, just sad.
She realised their marriage would never be the same. Her pride in her wisdom had backfired. Her urge to help, protect, guide him had shattered his dream.
Now, every time she wanted to advise or ask something, she bit her tongue. And William made every
