The Other Man
“Olivia, I should go,” said Edward, pulling on his coat.
“Did your wife call? Go ahead, of course. I’m used to it.”
Every time Edward left to return to his wife, Olivia ached. She wished he would stay the night. They could have gone to a café, then curled under a warm blanket watching films while she brewed rich coffee. But it was only a dream. Edward had never hidden his marriage—there was a son involved. He claimed he no longer loved his wife but stayed for the boy’s sake. Once the lad finished school, he said, he would leave for good.
Olivia cared little about his wife. Why should she fret over another woman’s happiness? If a marriage had soured, if a man had fallen out of love—well, it showed. A good father wouldn’t upend his son’s life, she supposed. Two more years, and then… Blankets, films, a proper home. Olivia dreamed of a daughter, a little version of herself.
The years passed swiftly. She waited, but excuses came instead.
“My mother-in-law’s taken ill. She’s moved in with us. You understand.”
Olivia sighed, nodding. How much longer? Till her hair went grey?
A late cycle. A test. Two lines. Perhaps it was for the best. She booked a doctor’s visit.
The clinic’s corridor stretched long as she waited. The door swung open—a heavily pregnant woman stepped out, arm in arm with a man. Olivia’s breath caught. *Edward.* What was this?
They passed without noticing her. The doctor confirmed Olivia’s pregnancy.
“First child at thirty-five? A tad late, but no matter. Had a patient just now—forty, with a grown son. Her and her husband decided on another. A solid family, why not?”
Olivia’s lips twisted. A whirlwind of thoughts raged. Lies. He had said he’d leave. Instead, he’d fathered a child with the wife he claimed to despise. How long had he meant to hide it?
*”Luv, I can’t come tonight.”*
“Nor can I. Busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Off to the club with Emily. Tired of waiting about.”
*”What club? How old are you? I don’t like this.”*
“I’ve no family. I’ll do as I please. You’re someone else’s husband—you’ve no say.”
She hung up. So she wasn’t allowed a night out, was she? Expected to wait like a faithful pup while he played house, raising children, stealing moments with her for novelty’s sake. Only now did she see her pitiful role—the spare. The best years slipped by while he kept her dangling. Well, no more. She’d have her own child now.
Edward arrived unannounced, drunk and weeping. His wife had lost the baby—a girl—during birth. The grief had unhinged her. He didn’t know what to do.
“Be with her,” Olivia said coldly. “It’s your shared sorrow. Why lie to me if things were fine with her? Why string me along?”
“God’s punishing me—taking my daughter because of you—”
“Don’t be a fool. You’re the liar here. To her, to me, to yourself. Be a man for once. Go home.”
She shut the door, tears falling. Pity swelled—for herself, for his wife, for the lost child. Soon she’d hold her own. The pain of that loss struck deep.
Edward called, came by drunk, but Olivia turned him away. He never knew she bore his son—*Mark*, with his father’s face. She gave the boy her name, left the father’s line blank.
They say one in ten men leave their wives for mistresses. Half crawl back. How many women waste years waiting for promises that never come?
