**Diary Entry – 12th November**
Mum’s coming? Cancel! My husband’s ex is staying instead!
I was by the stove, the kitchen thick with the smell of roast beef and herbs—one of those rare evenings when I’d actually had time to cook properly instead of scrambling eggs. Wiping my forehead, I turned and called out,
“Eddie, you remember my mum’s visiting tomorrow, right?”
A few seconds later, he shuffled into the doorway, hair tousled, eyes bleary.
“What mum?” He blinked. “Did you say something?”
“Yes! Days ago!” I frowned. “We agreed she’d come on Sunday.”
Eddie tensed, then blurted out,
“Call it off. She can’t come tomorrow. No way.”
“And why’s that?” I crossed my arms.
“Because… Katie’s staying over.”
“Who the hell is Katie?”
He exhaled. “My ex.”
The room fell dead silent. Then I coughed—unsure whether to laugh or scream.
“Are you serious? You want your ex staying here the same day my mum visits?”
“No, you’ve got it wrong! Not staying, just crashing for a night! She’s had a row with her bloke, nowhere else to go. Just a couple of days, swear. It’s been years, you know that! She’s just in a bind.”
“And you don’t think how this looks? Mum walks in, and there’s your ‘old friend’ lounging about. Brilliant impression!”
“We’ll say she’s *your* mate. You’re a decent actress—they’ll buy it!”
I rolled my eyes, but already, my mind raced with the scene: Katie marching in, calling me “the wife” right off the bat. Disgusting… but intriguing.
That evening, the doorbell rang. Katie stood there—tall, polished, with a sharp bob and a designer handbag. She eyed me, sizing me up.
“Ah. So you’re the missus. Right… Well, don’t fret, I’m just passing through. Won’t touch your husband.”
I bit back a retort. “Room on the right. My mum’s coming tomorrow—stay scarce.”
As she wandered in, I returned to the kitchen where dinner was cooling.
“Katie, joining us?”
“Course! Is that pie? Don’t tell me you made it. Shop-bought pastry and jam, yeah?”
“Don’t eat it, then,” I snapped—though my lips twitched.
Undeterred, she smirked. “Want me to teach you proper baking? My gran was a chef—I’ve been at it since I could walk.”
And just like that, the evening unfolded into something neither of us expected. By midnight, we were chatting like old friends—men, recipes, even fashion. For the first time, I didn’t feel like just “the wife.” I was a woman who could hold her own. Katie wasn’t the enemy. She was… an ally.
Morning came, and Katie left for work. Then my mum, Margaret, knocked. The smell of fresh roast hit her the second she stepped in.
“Did *you* make this?” Her eyes widened. “Blimey.”
I nodded, pride bubbling up. I knew who to thank—that *ex* of his.
Later, Katie called.
“Emma, I’m home. Made up with Tom. Cheers for the dress tips, by the way—he was gobsmacked at the work do. Said he’s taking me to every meeting now. Oh, and we sealed the deal on that contract. You’re ace. Pop round tomorrow for my things—and a proper hug!”
Hanging up, I turned to Eddie.
“You were right. She’s decent. And… maybe I finally see who I am. Not just your wife. A woman who’s got something to give.”
He threw his hands up. “If you’re mates with Katie now, the world’s officially mad.”
I grinned. “Just don’t get in the way. It’ll all work out.”
