**The Scorned Womans Revenge**
Anthony Smith, a physics teacher at a rural school in Devon, had married for the second time. He was forty-one, but his beloved wife, Emily, was just thirtyyoung, beautiful, gentle, and kind, with a quiet strength that had captured his heart.
His first marriage to Margaret had ended after nine years, leaving him with a daughter, Sophie, whom he adored. But after the divorce, Margaret moved back to her village, cutting off all contact and refusing to let him see Sophie.
“Tony, youre free of that drama nowgo on, marry again,” his close friend Stephen, the local constable, had urged him.
“I might, but I havent met anyone who really moves me yet. Plenty of women around, but Well, I dont want another disaster.”
Then Emily arriveda new nurse at the village clinic. Tony bumped into her one evening on his way home from school.
“Blimey, someone new,” he thought, catching her eye as she greeted him first. He nodded back.
“Stephen, whos that new woman in the village?” Tony asked, stopping by the constables office later.
“Who? Oh, you must mean Emily. Just started at the clinic three days agoold Mrs. Wilkins finally retired.” Stephen grinned. “Shes a looker, Tony. Dont dawdle.”
Getting to know her wasnt hard. Two days later, he “coincidentally” ran into her again.
“Hello, Im Tony. Teach physics at the school. Andjust so you knowsingle.” He flashed a smile. “Youre the new nurse, then. So marital status?”
Emily arched a brow. “Is that really your business?”
“Absolutely. More than youd think.”
Soon enough, they were dating, and before long, a small wedding was held at the village pub.
Emily had been married before, brieflyjust a yearand thanked her lucky stars she hadnt gotten pregnant. Her ex was a drunk who kept pestering her for money, so shed quietly moved to the village for a fresh start.
On the first of September, after the schools opening ceremony, the teachers all went for drinks to celebrate.
“Emily, love, Ill be late tonightyou know how it is. Cant skip out on the team.”
“Fine. Just dont come home smelling of another womans perfume again.”
“Oh, come on, that was just Sarahs coat draped over mine!” Thats when he realised his wife had a jealous streak.
The evening was lovelycool, lively, full of toasts to careers, children, and grandkids. Tony was in high spirits, though Sarah, the history teachernever married, hoping to snag him one daykept shooting him mournful looks.
Tipsy, he staggered home late, humming as he hung his jacket. The house was dark.
“Emily?” He chuckled, stepping inside. “Still in one piece!”
No answer. He found her in the bedroom, curled under the lamplight with a book, her face unreadable.
“Darling, it wasnt even that late! Had a few, but” He laughed, but her eyes were icy.
“Anthony.” Her voice was flat. “Theres a letter on the table. Read it.”
Confused, he fetched it. The envelope bore his name in elegant script, no return address. His stomach dropped as he scanned the words:
*”Dear Anthony, I had to write. You know who this isIm the one who truly loved you. I wouldnt bother you, but Im carrying your child. What you do next is on your conscience. I know youre married now”*
His mind reeled. He hadnt so much as glanced at another woman since Emily. This had to be a jokeor sabotage.
“Emily, you cant believe this!” He rushed back, sober now. “Its rubbish! Someones playing games!”
She turned to the wall, silent. Shed opened it thinking, *We dont keep secrets*.
He pleaded, swore his love, but she wouldnt budge. Finally, exhausted, he gave up. When he moved to lie down, she said, “Sleep on the sofa.”
The next day, he showed Stephen the letter.
“Tony, you having a laugh? How am I meant to trace handwriting? No crime herejust a bitter love note.”
“Stephen, my marriage is falling apart! Emily wont even look at me.”
“Right, so Ill interrogate the whole village, shall I?” Stephen smirked. “Orconfess! Maybe you were too pissed to remember?”
“Piss off,” Tony snapped, storming out.
Emily wasnt speaking to him. Even his colleagues noticed his gloomexcept Sarah, who lingered a little too close.
*What if its her?* The thought struck him. *Shes always fancied me.*
He grabbed the staff register, flipping to her handwritingjagged, uneven. Nothing like the letter. Defeated, he slumped. The culprit had to be at school, though.
At home, Emilys red-rimmed eyes gutted him.
“Tell me, Anthonywhat did I do wrong?”
“Youre perfect. Id never betray you.”
“If you cheated, Im *not* perfect. I want a divorce.”
She wasnt hystericaljust heartbroken. Calm, wise beyond her years. By evening, shed packed a bag.
“Ill stay at the clinic. Goodbye.”
He couldnt stop her.
Two days later, at the post office, a stack of letters caught his eye. On topthe same handwriting. The return address: *Lydia Hughes, 7 Willow Lane, next village over.*
He sped there, parking outside number seven. At sunset, a heavily pregnant woman stepped out. His stomach lurched.
*Lydia bloody Parker.*
Years ago, shed been his studenteight years younger, relentless in her crush. Gossip had swirled until shed vanished. Now, married, she glared at him.
“Anthony?”
“Lydia. Congrats on the babynot mine, clearly. Why the letter? Youve wrecked my marriage.”
She smirked. “You made me suffer. Now you can too.”
“Right. Then Ill show your husband this. Where is he?”
Her face paled. “No! PleaseIm pregnant, I cant”
“Tell Emily the truth, or I will.”
The next evening, the door creaked open.
“Anthony? Help me with my bag. The neighbour carried it this far.”
Emily stood there, smiling. He swept her into his arms. Outside, autumn rain fell, but inside, their home glowed warm. Theyd weathered the stormand soon, their family would grow.
