**A Difficult Choice**
Emily and her husband, James, had sent their children to stay with her parents in the countryside for the summer holidays, just a short distance from their home in Manchester. They visited every weekend, sometimes just Emily if James was working. The village was only a few miles away, so she could take the bus straight after work on Friday evenings when he had weekend shifts.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have gone every weekend, but she missed the children terribly, and her father had recently suffered a stroke. She wanted to help her mother with the garden. This Friday, she planned to leave for the countryside as soon as her shift ended.
“James, I’m heading straight to the kids after work, so help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Come pick me up Sunday—you’re off then, right? Strange you’re working Saturday…”
“It’s chaos at the office,” James muttered. “The boss promised overtime pay.”
Emily was a senior accountant, and in her rush to finish a report that Friday, she must have made mistakes. She sent it off to regional management without double-checking.
On Saturday afternoon, her boss, Mr. Thompson, called.
“Emily, what on earth did you do with this report? Head office is furious. Fix it immediately, or you’re losing your bonus.”
“I’m in the countryside, Mr. Thompson. Maybe tomorrow? I don’t even know what—”
“I don’t care where you are. Fix it now,” he barked, loud enough for Emily’s mother to overhear.
“Alright, I’ll go.”
“Love, who was shouting like that?” her mother asked.
“My boss. I messed up the report rushing yesterday. I’ll head straight to the office.”
She said goodbye to her thirteen-year-old son and ten-year-old daughter. “See you next weekend, loves.”
Back in Manchester, she unlocked the office, booted up her computer, and scanned the report. Two glaring errors jumped out.
“How did I miss these? It’s so obvious! I must’ve been in too much of a hurry.”
By evening, she resent the report, locked up, and walked home slowly, lost in thought.
“James will be back soon. Wonder what he’ll say when he finds me here… Lately, he’s been different. Always on his phone, distracted, irritable. We should talk—without the kids around.”
As she approached their flat, she noticed the kitchen light on. “He’s home already.”
Climbing the stairs, her pulse quickened. At the door, romantic music played—odd, since James hated that kind. She stepped inside carefully, spotting unfamiliar but familiar-looking sandals in the hallway.
Tiptoeing past the dimly lit living room, she saw two silhouettes on the balcony, smoking.
“Sophie. It’s Sophie,” she realized with a jolt. Her best friend.
Emily’s hands trembled. She crept closer, overhearing:
“James, when are you going to tell Emily about us?” Sophie pressed.
James sighed impatiently. “Not this again. We agreed you wouldn’t push me. I haven’t decided yet—”
Emily yanked the curtain aside. “And when *will* you decide?”
James dropped his cigarette; Sophie yelped as it burned her foot.
“You were supposed to come back tomorrow!” Sophie snapped, storming inside. “Actually, this is perfect. Now you *have* to choose.”
Emily stood frozen, fighting tears.
“Em, you could’ve called,” James mumbled.
“Should I *schedule* coming home now?” she shot back.
Sophie glared, shameless. But James finally said, “Get dressed and leave.”
After Sophie slammed the door, James turned to Emily. “It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t leaving you.”
“You think we still have a marriage?”
“Come on, men slip up sometimes. But honestly, you let yourself go. No more holidays, no effort—”
“We have *children*. My dad’s ill. And your pay cut—ah, now I see why. You’re funding *her*.” Disgusted, Emily grabbed her keys and ran.
—
Rain soaked her as she sprinted, tears mixing with the downpour. Betrayed by her husband *and* best friend. With no bus to the countryside, she trudged back to the office, shivering in the cleaner’s spare robe.
At dawn, Mr. Thompson found her asleep on the lobby sofa. After hearing her story, he took her home to his wife, Margaret, who’d once forgiven *his* infidelity.
Over breakfast, Margaret asked, “Will you take him back?”
“Never.”
Margaret sighed. “With children, it’s never that simple. I stayed. Sometimes love means patience.”
Emily stayed silent.
Back in the village, her mother understood without words. James called daily, begging forgiveness, even helping her parents. The kids, though hurt, still hugged him when he visited.
Emily had the divorce papers ready—yet hesitated. Half a life together wasn’t easy to erase.
**Lesson:** Some choices can’t be made in haste. Love, betrayal, and forgiveness tangle like roots—pulling one risks unraveling them all.
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