Theatre
Emily had been counting down the minutes until the end of her workday, eager to step out of the office and into the arms of her beloved husband, James. They planned to visit their favourite café—the very place where they had met five years ago to the day.
She rushed out, spotting James leaning against his car, his face lighting up when he saw her.
“Hello, Jamie,” she murmured, nestling into him as he kissed her cheek.
“Hey there. Ready to head to our spot?” he asked—or rather, declared—and she laughed, nodding eagerly. She had been waiting for a gift from him.
After a quiet drink at the café, James offered no present, only a sly smile.
“Alright, let’s go home. Your gift’s waiting there.”
“Really? What is it? Why didn’t you bring it here?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he replied cryptically.
Back home, James led her to a car parked nearby. With a press of the key fob, its lights blinked to life.
“Here you go, my love. This is for you. Drive it with joy.”
Emily froze. A car? She had expected anything but this. Tears welled as she flung her arms around him.
“Jamie, thank you! I always say I have the best husband in the world. I love you so much.”
She adored him—he proved his love in every action. James worked tirelessly, often weekends too, to afford such gifts. They were saving for a country house, their dream. A home, then children. For now, they lived in Emily’s three-bedroom flat, inherited from her grandparents.
“That’s yours, darling. I know how much you wanted it.”
They celebrated their fifth anniversary that evening, toasting with wine they couldn’t have had earlier—James had been driving.
The next morning, Emily arrived at work in her shiny red car, beaming. Colleagues swarmed, eager to hear about her anniversary gift.
“Jamie gave me a car,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut in delight. “He just *gets* me. Can you believe we’ve never even had a proper fight?”
“Congrats on the amazing gift!” they chimed.
Some were genuinely happy for her. Others? Not so much. Among them was Nicole—James’s former schoolmate—who had always envied Emily. She had loved him since their schooldays. Watching Emily now, she seethed.
*Why does she get everything? Just wait. That smug smile won’t last.*
Emily, oblivious, never thought to guard her joy. She trusted them all. She didn’t suspect anyone would covet her happiness enough to destroy it.
Late that afternoon, James called—an urgent job would keep him late. She sighed but understood. Every pound was for their future home.
After waving goodbye to her colleagues, she approached her car.
“Alright, gorgeous, let’s get you home,” she cooed to the sleek machine.
On the way, she stopped at a department store, picking out a wristwatch for James.
*He’ll love this*, she thought, smiling as she tucked the gift into the passenger seat.
Near home, she slowed to park when—*thud*. A man sat in the road, gripping his leg. She scrambled out.
“Oh God—did I hit you? Let me call an ambulance—or I’ll drive you to hospital!”
He shook his head. “No need. Just a bruise. Ice’ll do.”
Emily insisted he come inside. Upstairs, she bandaged his knee, apologising profusely.
“Don’t fret,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’d take this injury daily just to see you. I’m Liam. And you?”
“Emily.”
His gaze lingered too long. Uncomfortable, she offered to drive him home, but he refused. Then he paused, spotting a photo of James and her.
“You know him? Wait—of course you do. Let me guess—your brother?” He smirked.
Her stomach dropped. “You know James?”
“Course. He’s married to my sister. Works non-stop—side jobs, overtime. Saving for a house, she says. Barely home.”
Emily’s world spun. She barely registered Liam leaving.
*Dual lives? Our dreams—he’s living them with someone else?*
When James returned, she pretended to sleep. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t bear the truth.
Days passed in silence. Even colleagues noticed her distance.
*Is he working? Or with her?*
Her thoughts tormented her. The only reprieve? Liam—always “coincidentally” nearby.
“Fate,” he’d say, grinning.
One evening, over coffee, she confessed everything.
Liam feigned outrage. “Two families? My sister’s *pregnant* by him! Confront him—then *divorce* him.”
Emily hesitated. That night, she resolved to pack his things. No words—just leave them in the hall.
Then the call came.
“Emily—James was injured at work. He’s in hospital.”
She ran.
James lay unconscious, head bandaged. His colleague, Oliver, explained:
“Non-stop work. Dreaming of that country house.”
She frowned. “Is there… another family?”
Oliver scoffed. “Just you. All he talks about.”
She told him about Liam. Oliver’s face darkened.
“Scam. Report it.”
Police revealed the truth: Liam, fresh out of prison for extortion, was Nicole’s brother. They’d plotted together—Nicole to steal James, Liam to manipulate Emily.
Nicole’s hatred ran deep. She had paid Liam to play the role, feeding him details from office chatter.
By the time they were arrested, Emily was at James’s bedside, weeping with relief as he woke.
Soon, he was home. She gifted him the watch; he teased a surprise of his own.
“Em,” he murmured, “maybe we don’t wait for the house. Let’s start our family.”
Her heart swelled. “I want that. So much.”
He kissed her. “Love you, darling. Forgot to say it today.”
Happiness stayed. Months later, their son arrived, and their joy knew no bounds.
