The Unwitting Mistress
“Good heavens! My daughter has gone and entangled herself with a married man! Have I truly raised such a shameless, unscrupulous girl?”
“Mum, please… I didnt know…” Emily sniffled, her gaze dropping to the floor, cheeks burning with shame.
“Oh, I’ve heard it all before! They never know, do they? Playing the innocent lamb while batting their lashes, all the while scheming to snatch another womans husband. I dont want to see you after this. Get out.”
Emily didnt rise from the sofa at once. She clung to the hope that her mother would relentthat this was all some cruel jest. But no. The womans resolve was ironclad. To her, Emily was no longer a daughter in need of comfort, but a wicked homewrecker.
…It seemed her mother was still haunted by ghosts of the past.
In that very room, twenty years earlier, little Emily had listened as her grandmother complained over the telephone to a friend.
“Yes, Margaret, yes! And yesterday he was with that Violet again! Straight from workoff to her, like clockwork! Well, Ill give them a piece of my mind…”
Her mother had sat nearby, eyes dull, fingers twisting the handle of her handbag. She was ready to join her own mother in hunting down her wayward father.
To Emily, this was just another ordinary day. Grandfather strayed, grandmother played detective, and the women of the family kept watch like retired Sherlocks. Back then, she thought it normalthat all women were a little bit spies, and all men, by default, were bound to be faithless.
Her mothers story had been much the sameonly she hadnt endured it. Emily barely remembered those days. Just the image of her mother, weeping for months before finally showing her father the door. Emily hadnt thought much of it; hed never been much of a presence in her life anyway.
From that moment, her mother hardened. Any woman who played the mistress was, to her, less than humanlower than dirt.
“All men are beasts. Lead them by the nose, and theyll follow. But the women who meddle in marriagestheyre the real villains,” shed taught Emily.
For a time, Emily believed it. Until she turned twenty-five, she was convinced all mistresses were predators, hell-bent on inflicting pain. That changed when her friend Lucy found herself caught in the same snare.
“Em, can you believe it? Hes got another girl! There was one before me, too. He just… used me while they were on the rocks,” Lucy sobbed into Emilys shoulder.
“How could you not have known?”
Emily was at a loss. Lucy was no temptressshed always insisted on dating only unattached men. And now? Now she wasnt the seductress, but the victim. Perhaps it hurt her even more than the wives whod merely been cheated on.
“How was I to know? Was I meant to rifle through his phone? And even if I had, hed have said she was just an ex. Were adultsmost of us have pasts…”
“And what will you do now?”
Lucy pulled back, her gaze distant. Emily could see the resolve forming behind her eyes.
“Todaynothing. I just needed to cry on your shoulder, if youll let me. But tomorrow… tomorrow Ill write to his girl.”
“She wants to hurt her,” Emily thought. But the truth was far kinder.
“…She ought to know what kind of man shes with. She might curse me, but I have to tell her. And if shes decent, well both drop him. He doesnt deserve either of us,” Lucy declared.
In that moment, something shifted in Emilys mind. Mistresses werent always enemiessometimes, they were unwilling sisters in sorrow. Sometimes, they suffered just as much.
Slowly, she came to see that not everything was black and white.
But her mothers views never softened. Worse still, now Emily had unwittingly become the very thing her mother despised.
For years, Emily had avoided romance altogether. Shed seen too much uglinessher grandmother, the amateur sleuth; her mother, raising her alone; Lucy, deceived and heartbroken. She couldnt trust men.
Then she met Edward. For ages, they were just friendstalking books, films, the latest news, their favourite fictional worlds. They checked in on each other, exchanged holiday gifts. No flirtation, no hints.
Then he invited himself over. Arrived with flowers and wine, ordered takeaway, gave Emily a taste of the good life. And confessed his feelings.
From then on, he visited often. They strolled through parks, caught films, dined in cosy cafés. He never invited her to his place, and they didnt meet as often as shed have liked, but Emily told herself it was because they were busy adults. She preferred a slow burnno rush into shared domesticity. She feared betrayal too deeply.
And shed been right to.
“Em, I have to tell you something… Im married. But were only staying together for the children,” Edward admitted one evening.
Had she not been seated, Emily might have collapsed. They were in a café. For half a minute, she sat in stunned silence, grappling with the blow, then abruptly pulled out her purse, tossed money onto the table for her tea and cake, and stood. Tears pricked her eyes. All she wanted was to be far away from him.
He sprang up, gripping her shoulders.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. You lied to me. If Id known… I dont ever want to see you again!” She tried to wrench free, but he held fast.
“Em, love, dont be like this. Im not cheatingnot on you, not on her. Were just roommates now.”
“Excuses! If you loved me, youd have ended things properly first, not dragged me into this… Let me go, or Ill scream!”
She wept openly on the street, refusing to let him see her break.
Her heart ached. For the first time, shed dared to loveand landed in a mess. Shed known better. Should have kept to herself. But shed longed for warmth, for closeness…
Emily lingered at the bus stop but couldnt bring herself to go home. She needed someone to share the pain. She couldnt bear solitude just then.
So she called her mother. Surely, of all people, shed understand.
“Mum… can I come over? Im in so much pain…”
“Of course, darling.”
Emily told her everything. Her mothers face darkened at the mention of Edwards wife.
“Do you even realise what youve done? Youre stealing another womans husband!”
“Mum, Im not stealing anyone. I wont see him again. I didnt ask to see his marriage certificate…”
“Dont lie! You said yourself he never invited you home. It was obvious!”
Emily pleaded, even showed their messages. It was no use.
That evening was the worst of her life. Betrayedfirst by Edward, then by her own mother.
…Six months passed. Emily healed, though the ache lingerednot for Edward, but for her mother. She tried to reconcile, even arrived on her birthday with a bouquet of roses, but the door remained shut.
“Stubborn fool. Always was, always will be,” her aunt muttered, hearing of the rift.
Yet Edward returneddivorce papers in hand. Free now, he said, and wanting only her. Emily took him back. The proof meant more than empty promises.
They built a good life. A son was born. Edward worked; Emily took leave, then returned to her job. Just like any family. The wound from her mothers rejection scarred over but never fully healed.
Six years later, it tore open anew.
“Em… I know how things are between you, but you should know,” her aunt sighed. “Janes in hospital. Critical, I thinka stroke. I thought you ought to hear it from me. Shes still your mother, after all…”
The rest was noise. A crushing weight pressed on Emilys chest.
“You should call her… Youll only regret it later if you dont,” her aunt urged.
Emily hesitated, staring at her phone, rehearsing wordsgentle or guarded? Would her mother lash out?
She neednt have worried.
“Forget this number! Youre dead to me! Or are you trying to kill me, is that it?!” her mother shrieked hoarsely.
“Mum, I just… wanted…” Emily managed through tears, but the line went dead.
She nearly dropped the phone, trembling violently.
Thats how Edward found her. She buried her face in his shoulder and wept as if she were that little girl again, abandoned while the women hunted her grandfather. He held her, stroked her hair, and sighed.
“Em…” he said softly when he learned the truth. “Youre
