**Diary Entry August 12th**
*”Youre going to see her again?”*
Emmas eyes bored into her husband. James kept lacing up his shoes.
*”To the kids, Em. To the kids, not her,”* he muttered, tightening the knot. *”How many times do we have to go over this?”*
Emma said nothing. Her lips pressed into a thin line. A thousand words tangled in her throat, choking her.
*”You were fine with it before we married,”* James went on, shrugging on his jacket. *”You knew I had children. I told you everything upfront. You said you understood. So whats changed? The interrogations? The drama?”*
Emma clenched her jaw. James didnt wait for a reply. The door clicked shut, and she was alone.
It took her a moment to move. Her legs felt like lead. She collapsed onto the sofa and flicked on the tellysome mindless sitcom for background noise. Anything to drown out the thoughts.
Theyd been together three years. Married for two. And yes, shed known from the start. The divorce. The two kidsa boy and a girl. James had mentioned them on their third date. Back then, Emma had smiled. Said it didnt matter. Said she understood. *”Kids arent a problem.”*
Now those words felt naïve. Stupid.
She pressed her palms to her eyes and inhaled deeply. The lump in her throat grew heavier, her chest tight as if an invisible weight pressed down.
It had become unbearable. Every Tuesday and Saturday, like clockwork, James left for his exs house. To see the children, he claimed. But he stayed for dinner. Lingered with his ex-wife, Charlotte.
Emma told herself she was being ridiculous. She trusted himor at least, she tried to. But a gnawing dread settled in her gut, twisting into nausea whenever he walked out the door.
Alone, she spiralled. Hated herself for not standing her ground. For swallowing his excuses. For staying silent when she shouldve screamed.
She snatched her phone and texted her best mate, Sophie:
*”Hes at hers again.”*
The phone buzzedSophie calling.
*”Hello?”* Emma fought to keep her voice steady.
*”Em, what the hell are you doing?”* Sophie didnt mince words. *”How long are you going to put up with this? Hes cheating. Its obvious.”*
*”No, Soph, you dont get it”*
*”I do. Hes over there twice a week, staying till god knows when. And youre telling me theyre just building Lego with the kids?”*
Emma dragged a hand down her face. Sophie was right. But admitting it meant admitting her marriage was a farce.
*”He says theres nothing between them,”* Emma whispered. *”That its just about the kids.”*
*”Christ, youre naïve,”* Sophie sighed. *”Em, open your eyes. Normal blokes dont spend half the evening at their exs. They pick the kids up, take them out, and drop them back. Yours is sitting at her table, eating her roast, probably holding her hand when no ones looking.”*
*”Soph, stop,”* Emma hissed, gripping the phone.
*”Fine. But remember this: youre going to regret it. And when it blows up, dont say I didnt warn you.”*
The call ended. Emma stared at the ceiling. On the telly, a laugh track roared. She didnt care.
James returned near midnight. She heard him shuffle in the hall, the rustle of clothes, the tap running in the bathroom. When he slid into bed, the scent of unfamiliar perfume clung to himsweet, cloying.
She didnt ask why he was late. Couldnt muster the energy. But James spoke first, settling under the covers.
*”Sorry Im late. Our daughter needed help with a school project,”* he mumbled, eyes already closing. *”Made a pinecone cow. Looked ridiculous.”*
Emma nodded in the dark.
Months passed. Tuesday. Saturday. The leaving. The returning. The scent of another womans perfume. The excuses.
Then James changed. Grew sullen. Distant. Spent evenings scowling at his phone. Emma asked what was wrong. He brushed her off, grumbling before disappearing into another room.
Two weeks later, he dropped the news:
*”Were doing a double date this Friday.”*
Emma turned, brow raised.
*”With who?”*
*”Charlotte and her new bloke.”*
Relief flooded her. So Charlotte had moved on? James hadnt been unfaithful? All her fears had been for nothing?
She grinned, looping her arms around his neck.
*”Course well go.”*
Friday came quickly. Emma bought a new dressnavy blue, fitted. She wanted to look good. Wanted Charlotte to see she deserved James.
The café was cosywarm lighting, wooden tables. Charlotte was already seated with a tall, athletic man in his forties.
*”Hi,”* Charlotte stood. *”This is Daniel.”*
She looked polished. Slim, put-together.
Daniel shook James hand. They sat. Emma relaxed. This would be fine.
But the evening was a disaster.
James spent the whole night trying to one-up Daniel. Interrupting. Boasting about how well he knew Charlotte.
Daniel suggested a pepperoni pizza. James cut in:
*”Charlotte hates spicy.”*
*”I know,”* Daniel said calmly. *”This is for us. Well get her something else.”*
But James kept going.
*”Remember when we took the kids to Cornwall, Char?”* he said, ignoring Daniel. *”Tom dragged that jellyfish ashore. Thought it was a toy.”*
Charlottes smile tightened.
*”James, that was ages ago.”*
He didnt stop. Story after storyabout the kids, their past, the pram theyd picked together, the nights theyd stayed up with a colicky baby.
Emma clutched her water glass. Each word was a knife twist. Charlotte looked uncomfortable, too, shooting James warning glances. But he didnt notice.
And then Emma understood. James hadnt let go. He was clingingto Charlotte, to their shared history, to the ghost of their family.
She was the spare. The placeholder.
Her phone ranga robocall from the bank. She seized the excuse.
*”Sorry, I have to go. Family emergency.”*
No one stopped her. James didnt even turn.
At home, she yanked a suitcase from the wardrobe and started packing.
James arrived an hour later, scowling.
*”Whats going on?”*
Emma looked up. Dry-eyed.
*”Im leaving.”*
*”What? Where?”*
*”Anywhere but here,”* she said, pulling on her coat. *”Tonight showed me the truth. Youre still in love with her. Or just cant let go. Either way, Im done.”*
*”What are you on about?”*
She held up a hand.
*”Dont. Dont lie. I saw you. You spent the whole night marking your territory. And I was just there.”*
Silence.
*”I wont be second choice, James,”* she said, gripping the suitcase handle. *”Im leaving.”*
*”Em, wait”*
*”No,”* she shook her head. *”I love you. But itll fade. At least Ill keep my self-respect.”*
She stepped out. James didnt follow. Didnt beg. Didnt explain.
In the taxi to her parents, she stared at the passing streetlights.
For the first time in years, she felt free.
**Lesson:** Love shouldnt make you a footnote in someone elses story. Walk away before you lose yourself completely.
