The Shadow of Theft: How Family Secrets Shattered a Marriage
In a dimly lit flat on the outskirts of the coastal town of Whitby, where the salty sea breeze wormed its way through the cracks of old window frames, Emily stood staring at an empty fridge, pressing her fingers to her temples. Food kept vanishing at an alarming rate, as if the shelves had been wiped clean by magic. Just yesterday, she’d made dinner, and now—not a crumb left. Her husband, Oliver, had eaten it all again, or so she assumed, and the thought gnawed at her like the relentless tide.
Conversations with Oliver were like arguing with a ghost—every one ended in shouting and finger-pointing. His three-month unemployment had turned their lives into a farce. Emily worked herself ragged just to buy groceries that evaporated as if enchanted. She’d grown used to choking down bitter coffee without sugar and gnawing on dry toast because after her shift, cooking was the last thing she could manage. Oliver, meanwhile, lived in his own little world where food materialised on its own, and his wife was simply expected to endure it all without complaint.
“I’m off to Uncle Frank’s farm tomorrow to help with repairs,” Oliver called from the bedroom, eyes glued to the telly.
Emily barely cared. Fatigue and a fever had pinned her to the bed, and by morning, her temperature had spiked. After downing some paracetamol, she collapsed into a fitful sleep, desperate for rest.
But peace was shattered by a clatter from the kitchen. Someone was rattling plates, slamming the fridge door, then singing—boldly, carefreely. Emily shuffled toward the noise, unsteady on her feet. There, rooting through her fridge like she owned the place, stood Oliver’s sister, Gemma—a woman Emily preferred to avoid. Gemma had always believed her brother owed her more than just moral support, often demanding money for herself and her kids. Oliver obliged, plundering their meagre budget, and Emily had gritted her teeth through it. Now here was Gemma, stuffing their food into plastic tubs like a supermarket sweep contestant.
“Hello,” Emily forced out, jaw clenched.
“Blimey! You’re home?” Gemma startled, nearly dropping a jar of pickles.
“I’m ill. And you, it seems, are making yourself quite at home?”
“Oliver gave me a key,” Gemma shot back, not even bothering to blush.
“So it’s not his bottomless stomach—it’s your light fingers,” Emily’s voice shook with fury.
“He’s my brother! I have every right to feed my kids!” Gemma squared her shoulders, ready for battle.
“Your brother hasn’t worked in months, and now I’m supposed to feed two families? Without even knowing?” Emily felt the words lodge in her throat.
“What, begrudging a bit of cheese? I’m struggling here!” Gemma raised her voice.
“Hand over the key. Now. Or I call the police. This is my flat, and your brother has no say here.” Emily stepped forward, eyes blazing.
“Calling the rozzers over a few quid’s worth of food? You’re pathetic!” Gemma flung the key onto the table. “Oliver’ll hear about this, and he’ll regret marrying someone so petty!”
“Oh, he’ll regret something—like covering for your little raids,” Emily spat, tears welling up.
She sank onto a chair, stunned. All this time, she’d been played for a fool. No one would believe her sister-in-law had been brazenly looting their fridge, leaving scraps, while Oliver turned a blind eye—blaming his own “appetite.” Worse was knowing he’d known all along, betraying her trust without a second thought.
Emily thought of her mother-in-law, a woman who’d helped herself to whatever she fancied without even asking. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree—Oliver and Gemma had inherited that same shamelessness. Her chest ached, but the decision was clear. With trembling hands, she dialed her husband.
“I want a divorce,” she said before he could speak.
“Wait—I’ll come home, we’ll talk—” Oliver stammered.
“Talking’s done. I know everything now.”
“You’ll regret this! You’ll come crawling back!” he snapped.
But Emily was already done listening. Oliver had become a stranger—a shadow lost to Whitby’s chilly winds. The only thing she mourned was the years wasted on a man who valued neither her nor their marriage. The divorce wasn’t an ending—it was freedom. A step toward a life where no one would steal her peace again.
The Shadow of Theft: How Family Secrets Shattered a Marriage
Stories
Author: Ellie Harrison
Reading time: 3 min
Views: 3.7k
Published: 17.11.2021
