**When Things Aren’t What They Seem**
*Diary Entry*
Emily was on the bus home from work, her forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. Rain streaked down, blurring the world outside into something indistinct, almost unreal. *Just like my life. The future’s a haze, and it’s terrifying.* She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears beneath her lashes.
“Youth these days. Sitting there like no one else exists, while elderly folk stand.” A woman’s voice, sharp with judgment, grated over her.
Emily looked up to see a heavyset woman looming above her seat, disapproval etched into her face.
“Please, take my seat,” Emily offered, standing.
“About time. Nobody has any manners anymore,” the woman muttered as she sat.
Emily squeezed past her, catching mutters about “rude youngsters” as she moved toward the doors. A few passengers chimed in, siding with the woman.
*Maybe she’s worse off than I am. Maybe that’s why she’s so bitter.*
“Excuse me, are you getting off?”
Emily turned—it was Katie, her old school friend.
“Em! Bloody hell, it’s been ages!”
Before Emily could reply, the bus doors hissed open, the crowd pushing them both out into the drizzle.
“God, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Katie beamed, linking arms with her. She looked radiant, full of life. “You’re not getting away until I know everything.”
“I’m happy to see you too,” Emily said flatly. “But I can’t invite you home.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go to Mum’s. I’m married now—different place. Just visiting her today.”
“I really can’t, Katie. Another time?”
“Not a chance. ‘Another time’ means another decade. Half an hour, that’s all I ask!”
Emily relented.
“Mum, look who I found!” Katie announced as they stepped inside.
Katie’s mother lit up, clasping her hands. The two had been inseparable in school, but after graduation, life pulled them apart—Emily had fallen head over heels for Jack.
“Tea, girls?”
“Mum, give us a minute, yeah?”
Once alone, Katie leaned in. “Alright, out with it. I know something’s wrong.”
Emily hesitated, but the warmth in Katie’s eyes loosened her tongue.
“So you *did* marry Jack. I remember how smitten you were.”
“Yeah. Mum fought me tooth and nail. Always held you up as the sensible one—‘Katie’s got her head screwed on,’ she’d say. Called me a ‘daydreaming Brontë heroine.’”
“Sounds like her,” Katie laughed.
Katie was all confidence—sleek blonde hair, sharp features. Emily, round-faced and soft-eyed, *did* fit the old-fashioned romantic mould. But now, exhaustion shadowed her face.
“At first, things were good. Then Jack got hurt in the qualifiers—head injury, then a stroke. Doctors gave no guarantees. I was already pregnant—somehow didn’t lose the baby.”
She’d cared for Jack with their newborn in tow. Sold their car to scrape by. Her mother helped mind the baby while Emily returned to work. Six years on, their daughter was Jack’s double.
“Years of rehab. I’d given up hope he’d even walk again, but he did. Boxing was over, though. He’s tried odd jobs, but… nothing sticks. He’s frustrated. Distant. Only our daughter gets through to him.” Emily turned away, swiping at her eyes.
“Let me help with work. My husband’s no oligarch, but he owns a firm. Could Jack do security?”
“You’d do that?”
“Done. Tell him to come in tomorrow—suit, clean-shaven. And not a drop of alcohol tonight. Paul’s strict about that.”
“Jack doesn’t drink,” Emily said stiffly.
“Just covering bases.”
She relayed the offer to Jack, omitting the booze comment. The next day, he left in a suit, tense but hopeful. When he called to say he’d been hired, relief flooded her.
For two months, things improved. Jack seemed himself again—steady income, purpose. Then Paul fired his driver and offered Jack the role.
Soon, Jack came home late, withdrawn. One night, his knuckles were split.
“You got into a fight?”
“Comes with the job,” he deflected.
An hour later, Katie called, furious.
“I help you, and your Jack repays me by attacking my husband!”
“What? Explain!”
“Ask *him*!”
The doorbell rang—urgent, demanding. Jack answered before Emily could. Raised voices, a thud. She peeked out: Paul, backed against the coat rack, shielding his face. Another man, doubled over, gasping. Jack had a third—a hulking bloke—pinned to the wall.
“Get back,” Jack barked.
He ejected them all, slamming the door on their threats.
“What happened?” Emily demanded.
“Your mate’s husband came to kill me. His lads weren’t up to it. I’m done working for him.”
“But—why?”
“I thought he was decent. Turns out he’s been cheating. Every night, I’d wait outside some posh flat while he visited his twenty-something mistress in a silk robe.”
He exhaled. “Tonight, he got drunk at a business dinner, harassed a girl. I stepped in. Had to hit him to stop him. He sacked me on the spot. Then brought goons here.”
Emily guided him to the kitchen, tending his hand.
“I couldn’t let him touch her. Katie doesn’t know. Don’t tell her—she’ll think I’m lying.”
But the next day, Katie arrived—swollen cheek, tear-streaked.
“Did Paul hit you?”
She nodded. “First time. I never knew this side of him. Call Jack—I need the truth.”
Jack laid it out plainly. Katie crumpled.
“I thought *I* was the lucky one. Pitied *you*.”
“Will you forgive him?” Emily asked.
“No. And I won’t go to Mum—she worships him.”
“Stay with us.”
Katie shook her head. “He’ll retaliate.”
“He’ll come after me either way,” Jack said. “Stay tonight. We’ll figure it out.”
The next morning, Jack escorted Katie home for her things—just in time. A blacked-out car nearly mowed her down. He checked her into a cheap hotel under a fake name.
“Leave town. He’ll find you eventually.”
“And you?”
“I’m not scared.”
Paul’s firm was soon audited—embezzlement, fraud. He was out.
Meanwhile, Jack’s old coach tracked him down.
“Retiring soon. Lads recommended you. Thought you’d be wheelchair-bound, but here you are. Fancy taking over?”
“Bloody hell—yes.”
“Pride stop you asking sooner?”
“…Yeah.”
Funny how life twists. Jack, broken but decent. Paul, polished but rotten.
Katie survived. Jack thrived. And Emily? She learned something.
*Sometimes the detour’s the point.*
