The Secret That Tore a Family Apart
In a cozy riverside town where streetlamps flickered to life each evening, Emily wiped down the kitchen counter. The scent of freshly baked apple pie still hung in the air when the phone rang. The screen flashed the name of her old friend Charlotte—someone she hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Charlie! Hello! It’s so good to hear from you!” Emily exclaimed, wiping flour from her apron.
After exchanging pleasantries, Charlotte’s tone shifted. “Em… have you and James divorced?”
“What? No! Where did you get that idea?” Emily’s stomach dropped.
“Then explain this,” Charlotte said grimly.
A second later, a message buzzed through—a single photo. Emily opened it, and the world seemed to collapse around her.
—
“Christ, I can’t take this anymore!” James stormed into the flat, tossing his keys onto the hallway dresser.
“James? What’s wrong?” Emily asked. She always got home from work first, cleaning and cooking before he returned.
“What’s wrong? Everything!” He ripped off his coat. “This bloody job, the monotony, the routine! It’s suffocating me. Em, let’s just go—somewhere, anywhere. The coast, a countryside inn. I need to breathe!”
“But we’d need time off,” Emily hesitated. “We promised your dad we’d help with the cottage…”
“Sod the cottage!” James snapped. “It won’t crumble in a fortnight, but I might! What matters more to you—weeds or me?”
“Of course it’s you,” Emily said quietly, seeing the desperation in his eyes. “I’ll ask at work. They owe me leave—two years without a break.”
“Brilliant. I’ll book the tickets, then?” James rubbed his hands together, already brighter.
“Go ahead,” Emily agreed. She needed the escape too—between their son’s graduation, his move to university, and the plumbing disaster from the upstairs neighbours that left their walls half-repaired, she was running on fumes.
“Right. The coast is too pricey, so we’ll do an inn,” James decided. “Good scenery, quiet, and won’t break the bank.”
Emily didn’t argue. She rarely did. Not when James insisted on cheap wallpaper after the flood instead of the pattern she loved, not when he talked her out of a better job, scoffing,
“Commuting clear across London? You’ll never be home. What, my salary’s not enough? There’s a till job at the corner shop—easy hours, groceries at hand.”
She’d given in. The shop bored her, but home stayed spotless. Only once had she stood firm—when James tried forcing their son into a different university.
“No.” Her voice was steel. “He chooses where he studies. Don’t you dare bully him.”
James, stunned by her defiance, backed down but never missed a chance to mutter about being “taken for granted.” Emily would soothe him, assuring him otherwise.
Tickets were bought, bags packed, leave approved. Two days before departure, James’s father, Edward Bennett, called.
“Em, hello,” his voice trembled. “Can’t reach James. Is he alright?”
“Hello, Edward. He popped to Boots, left his phone. What’s happened? You sound upset.”
“My back’s gone. Can barely move. Could he come round? Just need help with the liniment. The home nurse charges a fortune, and the neighbour who used to help moved away.”
“Of course. We’ll be there as soon as he’s back,” Emily promised.
When James returned, he scowled. “You’re joking. Why now?”
“James, how can you say that? He’s your father!”
“He’s got a sister, hasn’t he?”
“His sister can barely walk herself!” Emily snapped. “Enough. We’re going.”
Grumbling, James followed. Edward’s door was ajar. He stood hunched by the kitchen window, pain etched in every line.
“Twisted wrong,” he muttered, guilt-ridden. “Wouldn’t have bothered you if your mum were here.”
James’s mother, Margaret, had passed years ago. Since then, visits were rare—though their son had often stopped by after school.
“Dad, seriously—now?” James’s voice was sharp. “We’ve got a holiday planned!”
Emily yanked his sleeve.
“Sorry to be a bother,” Edward whispered, and Emily’s chest ached.
“It’s fine,” she said gently. “Where’s the ointment? Let’s sort you out.”
Half an hour later, Edward could straighten enough to shuffle to the sofa. Emily checked the fridge—enough food for a day.
“We’ll come tomorrow, reapply the cream and make you a proper meal,” she vowed.
At home, James erupted.
“Have you lost the plot? We’re leaving, and you’re playing nurse?”
“He’s your father! Who else will help him?”
“Call an ambulance! Let the hospital deal with it!”
“You know he won’t go. And they might not even keep him. He’ll heal faster at home.” Emily stared, shocked by his coldness. “Maybe he’ll improve by tomorrow.”
But next morning, Edward was worse—barely able to wash or eat.
“James, we have to stay,” Emily pleaded.
“Do what you want!” he barked. “I’m going on holiday—with or without you. I didn’t slog a year for this!”
She hoped he’d reconsider, but at dawn, he and his suitcase were gone.
“Sod duty. Sod decency!” James thought as the train rattled onward. “I’ve earned this!”
While Emily sacrificed her holiday to care for Edward, James reveled at the inn—until he tangled with a barmaid named Lily. By week two, he’d stopped thinking of home.
But small places breed familiar faces. Emily’s friends, staying at the same inn, spotted James with Lily. Back in town, they asked carefully, “You and James… divorced?” Her silence told them everything.
Meanwhile, James texted once: “Delayed. No tickets.” Emily wept but hid it from Edward. Yet gossip reached him.
“The bastard!” Edward roared. “What kind of son—what kind of man—abandons his wife mid-sacrifice?”
“Edward, please,” Emily begged. “Your back—my leave ends soon. Have some chamomile tea. I’ll manage. Our son’s grown. And I’m taking that job James wouldn’t let me have—they’ve asked again.”
“Em, forgive us,” Edward wept. “Thank God your mum didn’t live to see this shame.”
A month later, James returned. He’d quit his job remotely.
“Em, we’re filing for divorce.” The flat was in her name; he’d no claim. But he had another plan.
“Dad,” he announced to Edward. “I’m leaving. Marrying again. I want my share of the cottage.”
“Over my dead body!” Edward seethed. “You couldn’t sit at my bedside, but you’ll take my roof? I’ve left everything to Emily and my grandson. Show your face again, and you’ll regret it!”
Stunned, James slunk back to the inn with divorce papers. Lily, learning he was broke and homeless, ditched him for the café’s new manager.
James left to scrape for work abroad, cursing fate. Too late, he saw—he’d wrecked his life himself. No way back.
