“Thanks, Johnny! I dont know what Id do without you,” flashed the notification on her phone.
Her husbands phone vibrated right in her hand. Emily glanced automatically at the screen. The sender was someone named Lucy. The message ended with a little pink heart, like a tiny kiss.
Emilys eyes widened. *Lucy? Johnny?* She mightve brushed it off as a distant relative or a coworkerif it werent for one detail: her husband had never mentioned anyone by that name. Or had he been keeping her a secret?
She looked up sharply. She needed the truth first, not wild assumptions. But her chest tightened with jealousy all the same.
“Whos Lucy?” Emily asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.
John, sipping his tea calmly, blinked in confusion.
“What?”
“Lucy,” she repeated, holding up the phone. “Who is she?”
He glanced at the screen, and for just a second, something flickered in his eyes. Then he shrugged.
“Oh Thats just Lucy.”
“*Which* Lucy?”
“Well My ex. Theres nothing between us now.”
Emilys blood ran cold.
“Your ex calls you Johnny and thanks you with hearts? You think thats *normal*?”
John shrugged again, as if it wasnt worth discussing.
“Yeah. I lent her some money. She asked, I helped.”
Emilys temper flared.
“You gave money to your ex?!”
“Yeah, whats the big deal?”
“*Whats the big deal?!*” She scoffed. “Seriously? You think its fine to take *our* money and hand it over to some Lucy?”
Finally, he met her eyes.
“Emily, youre making a mountain out of a molehill. Weve known each other forever. Why wouldnt I help her out?”
She laughed, but there wasnt an ounce of amusement in it.
“Youre *married*, John. To *me*! And yet youre still playing knight in shining armour for her.”
He sighed irritably, like he was explaining something obvious to a child.
“We didnt end badly. Shes not a stranger to me.”
“And am *I* the stranger?”
John stayed silent. Emily shook her head and exhaled sharply.
“How long has this been going on?”
“What?”
“Your lovely little friendship.”
He looked away.
“Weve always talked. Even before you. I just never mentioned it. Didnt want to upset you.”
Emilys face burned.
“So for two years, you *hid* it?”
“I didnt *hide* it! There was no reason to bring it up. Im not cheating. Why are you overreacting?”
She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream.
“And how often do you *help* her?”
“Now and then. Small things. Fixing her laptop, setting up her telly.”
“So my *husband* runs errands for another woman like a handyman?”
“Dont be ridiculous!” he snapped. “I helped her, I lent her money! Is that a crime?! Id do the same for you!”
Emily looked at him with icy resolve.
“If you dont see anything wrong with this, then we have very different ideas of what marriage means.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen. She couldnt bear to look at him right now.
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Emily. Anger, hurt, confusion. She tried to think rationally, but one question echoed in her mind: *How did I not notice?*
John didnt seem guilty. Now that she knew, he didnt hide his chats with Lucybut he acted like it was perfectly harmless.
Over the next fortnight, the pattern became clear. Her husband was often late from work. Every few days, Lucy had some *urgent* problem.
“Popping round to Lucys tonight,” he announced casually over dinner. “Her washing machines packed up.”
Emily set her fork down and stared.
“Are there no repairmen in London?”
“Come on, is it so hard to lend a hand?”
“For you, no. For me, its hard to accept.”
“Here we go again! Must we keep having this row?”
“Yes, *again*,” she said coldly. “Because your ex always needs *help*. At least you dont share kids.”
John sighed but kept eating.
“If it was the neighbour or my mum, would you still kick off?”
“The difference is, *they* wouldnt call you every other day.”
“Emily,” he said wearily, “youre acting like Ive cheated.”
“I dont know if youre cheating, but this *isnt* normal. And it bothers me,” she shot back.
He smirked.
“You dont trust me.”
“Have you given me reason to?”
Silence fell between them.
Three days later, Lucy reappeared.
“Just had Lucy on the phone,” he said airily. “Shes buying a fridge but cant shift it home.”
Emily turned slowly towards him.
“So now youre dropping everything to lug a fridge for her?”
“Whats the harm?”
“John, do you *seriously* not see the problem?”
“I see you making a drama over nothing.”
“*Im* not the one making a scene*you* are. And I dont want front-row seats anymore. If youre so desperate to help Lucy, why not move in? Save on petrol.”
“Youre serious?”
“Deadly.”
“So youre kicking me out?”
“No, John. Im giving you a choice. Be in *this* family, or go your own way. But I wont have you here anymore.”
She turned and left. No more excuses, no more half-truths. Maybe he thought he was being honest by announcing where he was going. But to Emily, it wasnt honestyit was betrayal.
Twenty-four hours passed since their last argument. Emily sat in the kitchen, staring at her phone. No calls, no texts. He was gone. Maybe to Lucys. Maybe somewhere else.
After ten days of silence, Emily realised something: sometimes, walking away isnt losingits learning not to settle for less than you deserve.