Thoughts tangled in her mind, jealousy and resentment bubbling inside her. Why would they do this to her? Hadn’t she loved her husband? Hadn’t she been a good wife and mother to their son?
But what happened next defied all reason.
Emily had always believed she and her husband were destined for each other. Their ten years of happy marriage felt like fate, a natural outcome of their love.
Today, she was returning home early from a business trip—one she’d left for just two days ago. Her boss had summoned her, insisting no one else could handle the crisis at one of their branches.
“It’s three days’ work, at most. Pack up, Emily, and don’t even think of making excuses. You leave tomorrow,” he’d told her, oblivious to her frustration.
She’d had plans—none of which included a sudden trip to another city. But arguing with the boss was pointless. Even mentioning his own rule—that only junior staff handled business trips—wouldn’t have helped. She’d done her fair share in the past. At thirty-five, she’d hoped for a calmer, more predictable schedule.
“James, I’m off for work. Should be three days. Make sure Liam keeps up with his tutor—he’s been skipping lessons lately. And don’t let him live off crisps and junk. There’s soup and proper meals in the fridge.”
“Fine, I’ll handle it,” James muttered, barely glancing up from his phone.
“That’s it?” Emily frowned. “You’re not even bothered I’m leaving? For heaven’s sake, put that thing down!”
“You’ll be back in three days. We’ll manage.”
At that, James finally looked up, offering a smile.
“Why *are* they sending you, though? Thought you were done with trips?”
“They need someone experienced. The boss insisted—someone strict, with backbone.” She said it with pride, knowing her worth at work.
During the trip, she’d pushed to finish early, eager to escape the dreary, unfamiliar city. Even one extra day at home was a luxury—one she’d spend on herself.
As the train neared the outskirts of her hometown, her mood lifted. She imagined stepping into the empty flat, relishing the freedom. James would still be at work, ten-year-old Liam at school. She’d run a bath with scented foam, pamper herself with face masks, maybe even nap—something she hadn’t allowed herself in ages. Later, Liam would burst in from school, and she’d make him a proper meal, help with homework. Work had eaten up so much of her time; she couldn’t recall the last proper moment she’d spent with him. Even after maternity leave, she’d rushed back to work, leaving baby Liam with her retired aunt.
She hadn’t told James she was returning—whether forgotten or deliberate, it didn’t matter now. Let it be a surprise. He’d come home to his wife, a hot dinner, and homework already done. Bliss.
Lost in memories of how they’d met and married so suddenly, Emily stopped at a shop on her way home, picking up a bottle of white wine and James’s favourite cake. Tonight would be romantic. She needed that lately—they’d drifted. Work consumed her, while James drowned in his phone. Conversations had dried up. Strangers, really.
Opening the front door, she didn’t immediately sense anything wrong. Then she flicked on the hall light—and froze. A pair of unfamiliar women’s boots sat by the door. Her gaze jumped to a lightweight cream coat hanging in the closet. Its sickly-sweet perfume hit her like a wave, turning her stomach.
Or maybe it wasn’t the perfume—but the realisation of what awaited her. No bath, no pampering, no cosy evening with wine. None of it.
And perhaps no more family. Because betrayal wasn’t something she could forgive.
She steeled herself. No tears, no humiliation in front of her cheating husband and this stranger who’d dared invade her home.
Laughter and murmurs floated from the bedroom. Emily scanned the room for something—anything—to swing at them.
“God, how did I miss this? Why didn’t I see how far James had drifted? An affair? And he brought her *here*?”
She whispered to herself, fighting to stay calm. Hot-tempered, she feared she might lash out—and end up in prison. So she swallowed the rage and marched to the shut bedroom door.
On the way, her foot caught the cord of a floor lamp, yanking it over with a crash. The noise startled the lovers. The door flew open—and a woman wrapped in a bedsheet stumbled out.
“Olivia?” Emily choked out. “*You*? Christ, no wonder that perfume reeked so familiar!” She laughed, hysterical. “How could you? You snake!”
“Emily?” Olivia gaped. “You’re back early—”
“He didn’t expect me either, did he?” Emily hissed, jerking her chin toward the bedroom. “Come out, James! No hiding now!”
“Emily, wait—you’ve got this all wrong,” Olivia babbled.
“Oh, save it. That’s *his* line. Out, James! Time to face the music. Lucky for you, it’s divorce, not murder!”
“Emily, just listen—” Olivia pleaded.
“Move! I want to see his lying face!” Emily shoved past her, barging into the bedroom—
—where Daniel, James’s brother, sat fully dressed on the bed, staring guiltily out the window.
“Daniel? Have you lost your mind? What the hell is this? Liam could’ve walked in!”
She couldn’t process it. Daniel—serious, steady Daniel, whose marriage she’d always admired.
They sat at the kitchen table now. She demanded answers. James would get his reckoning later. For now, she needed to understand how this had happened—and how to stop it from poisoning her own marriage.
“We met at James’s birthday last year—remember that barbecue?” Daniel admitted. “Then we ran into each other in town after a row with Marie. She was on at me again—never earning enough, never ambitious… I wanted to hurt her back. Olivia was there, and—well, I snapped.”
“And *you*,” Emily glared at Olivia, “you’re divorced, no strings. But *you*, Daniel? I held you up as the ideal!”
“Turns out I’m not so perfect.”
“Why *here*? Hotels exist! Or was our bed part of the thrill?”
“Small town. I work at the council—everyone knows me. We thought here was safe. First time, honestly.”
“Spare me the details. Olivia, we’re done. And Marie—God, how do I even face her?”
After kicking them out, Emily scrubbed the flat raw, tossing out sheets, airing rooms. Between bouts of furious cleaning, she reflected on her marriage. What needed to change? More talks, less criticism. And no more lending out keys—even to family.
She dialled James, voice shrill. “Darling, I’m home early—and we’ve been robbed!”
“You’re back?” Panic edged his voice.
“Oh yes. But don’t worry, I’ve called the police. Trapped them inside with the deadlock—they’re not going anywhere!”
“No! Cancel it, I’ll handle this!”
“Absolutely not. Justice must be served!”
“I’m on my way!”
He arrived in record time, only to find Emily calm, smirking.
“Sorted already?” he ventured.
“Daniel says hello. Never do this again. Our home is *ours*. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Tonight’s romantic dinner—just us. And you’ll tell me what you really want. No lies.”
“Really?”
“Really. And—you’re not to breathe a word to Marie.”
“You’re brilliant. And gorgeous. Come here—”
“Later. Liam’s home.” She exhaled, grateful James hadn’t been here to witness the mess. Some surprises were best avoided.
