**Diary Entry – 12th June**
I couldn’t wait for work to end today. All day, I imagined stepping out of the office to find my husband, Oliver, waiting by the car, ready to take me to our favourite café. That’s where we met five years ago—on this very date.
The moment the clock struck five, I rushed outside, and there he was, leaning against his car with that familiar grin.
“Hello, Ollie,” I sighed, pressing into his embrace as he kissed my cheek.
“Hello, love,” he said, half question, half statement. “Off to our café, then?” I laughed and nodded, secretly hoping for a gift.
We lingered just long enough for tea, but he gave me nothing. As we left, Oliver grinned. “Right, home we go. Your present’s waiting there.”
“Really? What is it?” I frowned. “Why not bring it with you?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he replied, all mystery.
When we pulled up outside the house, he walked to another car—a sleek red Mini—and unlocked it with his key fob.
“Here you are, my love. She’s yours.”
I was speechless. A car? I never expected this. I flung my arms around him.
“Ollie, you’re the best. I always say I have the most wonderful husband. I love you so much.”
And it was true. He worked tirelessly—sometimes weekends, too—just to spoil me. We were saving for a countryside home, a proper one, with space for children later. For now, my inherited three-bed flat was enough.
“Darling, it’s yours,” he murmured. “I know how much you wanted it.”
That evening, we celebrated our anniversary properly with wine—something we’d skipped earlier since he was driving.
At work the next day, I arrived in my shiny new Mini, beaming. My colleagues buzzed with curiosity.
“Oliver surprised me with this,” I admitted, cheeks warm. “He knows me so well. Can you believe we’ve not had a single proper row in five years?”
“Congratulations!” they chorused, though I noticed the flicker in Emily’s eyes—Oliver’s old classmate, who’d always fancied him. She smiled at me, but I knew better. Some people can’t stand seeing joy in others.
I should’ve known happiness loves silence.
That evening, Oliver rang to say he’d be late—another side job. I sighed but didn’t mind. He was doing it for *our* future.
After work, I stopped at the mall and bought him a beautiful wristwatch.
“I’ll make him as happy as he makes me,” I thought, humming as I drove home.
Turning onto our street, I braked—then felt a sickening thud. A man sat in the road, clutching his leg.
“My God—did I hit you?” I gasped. “Let me call an ambulance—or I’ll drive you to hospital!”
He waved me off. “Just a knock. Some ice will sort it.”
I took him inside, fussing over a bandage.
“Don’t fret,” he chuckled. “I’d take this injury daily just to see you. I’m Liam, by the way.”
I introduced myself, unnerved by the way he looked at me. When he spotted the photo of Oliver on the shelf, he stiffened.
“You know him?” he asked, pointing. “No—wait, of course you do. Let me guess—your brother?” He smirked.
“You’ve met Oliver?”
“Oh, aye. He’s married to my sister. Hard worker, always off on site jobs—saving for a house, he says. Barely home, but my sis doesn’t mind. He’s got goals.”
My chest tightened. The words stuck like a thorn.
When Liam left, I barely noticed. All I could think was: *A double life? Are our dreams meant for someone else?*
Oliver came home late. I pretended to sleep.
Days passed in silence. At work, Emily smirked. Liam kept “accidentally” bumping into me—outside the office, near home.
“That’s fate, Alice,” he’d say.
Over coffee, I confessed my fears.
“Oliver, *married*?” Liam scoffed. “The bastard’s got two families! My sister’s carrying his child! You should divorce him—throw him out!”
That night, I nearly called Oliver, demanding the truth. Instead, I resolved to pack his things—no explanations.
Then the phone rang. His colleague, Jacob.
“Alice—Oliver’s hurt. They’ve taken him to hospital.”
He’d been working on an urgent site job, Jacob explained. A head injury—serious.
“He never stops, does he?” I whispered.
“Course not,” Jacob said. “That country house is all he talks about. Why’d you ask?”
I told him about Liam. Jacob’s face darkened.
“That’s a con. Liam’s fresh out of prison—fraud, blackmail. He’s Emily’s brother.”
*Emily.* The pieces clicked. She’d spun this web, feeding Liam details of our plans, paying him to wreck us.
When Oliver woke, I clung to his hand.
“My love, I’m so glad you’re here. The doctors say you’ll recover. I’ll make sure of it.”
Back home, I gave him the watch. He grinned.
“Alice… let’s not wait for the house. Let’s start our family.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I want that too. More than anything.”
“And I love you,” he murmured. “Don’t think I’ve said it today.”
Now, happiness fills every corner. Our son arrived last month. We’re on cloud nine—where we belong.
