The man walked through the front door, barely stopping to take off his coat before raising his voice: “We need to talk.”
Standing in the hallway, still in his shoes, he took a deep breath and said:
“Emily! We need to have a serious chat…”
Then, without pausing, his eyes widened.
“I’ve fallen in love!”
*Well, here we go,* thought Emily, *a midlife crisis right on schedule.* But she kept silent, studying her husbands face closelysomething she hadnt done properly in five, maybe six, or was it even eight years?
They say your life flashes before your eyes before death strikes, but for Emily, it was their shared past unspooling instead. Theyd met in the most ordinary wayonline. Shed lost three stone, hed fibbed about his height (adding three inches), but somehow, against the odds, theyd clicked. She couldnt remember whod sent the first message now, but she knew his reply had been witty, self-deprecatingjust her type. At thirty-three, with unremarkable looks, Emily had taken a pragmatic view of her marriage prospects. If she wasnt last in line, she was close to it. So on their first date, shed gritted her teeth, slapped on rose-tinted glasses, worn her best lingerie, and packed homemade biscuits in her handbag.
Surprisingly, the evening went smoothly. Their romance burned fast and brightso much so that after six months of courtship and relentless parental nagging (her mother had nearly given up on grandchildren), he proposed. Their families met, approved, and, terrified someone might back out, they booked the first available registry office slot.
Life, by Emilys estimation, had been good. Their marriage was temperateno scorching passions, but steady warmth, a comfortable rhythm of mutual respect. Her husband, a straightforward sort, ditched the brooding, faux-poet act within weeks of the wedding, revealing himself as he really was: reliable, hardworking, the kind of man who happily lived in well-worn sweatpants.
Emily, being more complicated, took longer to shed her own actthe mysterious, effortlessly elegant homemaker. Pregnancy hurried things along. Within a year, shed surrendered completely, swapping her impractical skirts for a cosy dressing gown.
That neither of them regretted dropping their façades only confirmed to Emily how right their choice had been. The years rolled on. Two children came in quick succession, rocking the boat but never capsizing it. They juggled work and family, climbed the career ladder (slowly but steadily), travelled when they could, indulged hobbiesnever forgetting each other, though keeping within statistical norms.
Twelve years in, he had never once strayed, not even lightly flirtednot that Emily was the jealous sort. She could have handled it. The idea of him attempting charm made her smirk. Early on, hed realised he was rubbish at compliments, so he adaptedcommunicating instead with wide-eyed stares, like an overgrown puppy.
Over time, Emily learned to read every shade of his emotions by the roundness of his eyes: wild amazement, quiet approval, startled confusion, or full-blown outrage. Now, she imagined him attempting sweet talk on some stranger, his eyes widening comically
Her throat tightened. She forced a nervous laugh. “So, whats this womans name, then?”
His eyes practically crawled up his forehead. Trembling, he fumbled in his jacketthen pulled out a small grey hamster with pink ears, a twitching nose, and beady black eyes.
“Look at her so soft, so perfect she even reminds me of you!”
Emily stopped listening. She gazed at her husband, at this tiny creature in his palms, and felt a ridiculous swell of happiness. Of course hed fallen in lovewith a hamster that looked just like her.
