**Sunday, 15th October**
Three Saturdays in a row, Emily left “for work.” What I saw changed everything.
“Youll be late again?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it betrayed me, trembling slightly.
Emily froze, her hand gripping her bag. She turned slowly, as if buying time.
“Yeah, the projects a mess. The boss is losing iteveryones scrambling.”
“On a Saturday? For the third week running?”
“Oliver, dont be childish. Work is work.”
She kissed my cheekquick, perfunctory, like youd kiss a neighbour in the lift. She didnt smell like her usual perfume. Something sweet lingered, milky, childish. I frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Later. Everything later, alright?”
The door slammed. I stood in the hallway, fists clenched. Three Saturdays. Three bloody Saturdays shed left early and returned exhausted, silent, a stranger.
I couldnt take it anymore. I grabbed my car keys.
Emily glanced around as she stepped out of our building. I ducked in the carthankfully parked behind a van. She hailed a taxi. I started the engine.
We drove for ages. Not to her officethat much was obvious. Somewhere on the outskirts, rows of identical terraced houses. My heart pounded. Id see for myself. Id know.
She got out near a shabby block of flats. I parked further down, trailing her. She disappeared inside. I waited, counting floors from the windows. Third. Left side.
Half an hour passed. Then Emily reappearedbut not alone.
With a pram.
I nearly stumbled. A baby? We didnt have childrenwed talked about it, but not seriously, not since these Saturdays started
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram awkwardly, murmuring. She looked lost. Then a girl rushed outMaddie, Emilys younger sister. Flighty Maddie, twenty-five, twice married, twice divorced.
“Em, thanks! Ill be quicktwo hours max!”
“Maddie, you said one!”
“Please, Em? I really need this!”
Maddie bolted, leaving Emily with the screaming infant. Helpless, she pushed the pram back and forth.
I retreated around the corner, leaning against the wall. Not an affair, then. A nephew. But why the secrecy? Why lie?
I drove home, desperate to beat her back. I needed to think.
Pacing the flat, I considered just asking. “Em, where were you?” But shed lieI knew it. Just like Id been lying.
Because I had a secret too.
Charlotte. A colleague from another department. Nothing seriousjust chats after work, coffee, sometimes a film. She laughed at my jokes, listened to my ramblings about coding, looked at me the way Emily used to. Before our lives became “buy bread,” “pay the bills,” “pick up your socks.”
With Charlotte, it was easy. She reminded me of the Emily Id fallen for seven years agobright, carefree, hanging on my every word.
The key turned in the lock. I jumped, grabbed the remote, flicked on the telly.
“Hi,” Emily peeked in. “Youve been here all day?”
“Yeah. Couldnt be bothered going out.”
She headed to the kitchen. I heard the tap running, dishes clinking. I followed.
Emily stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Her shoulders sagged, shadows under her eyes. A stain on her jeansbaby formula, maybe.
“Em.”
“What?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, surprised.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Lets go out. That Italian place we went to for our anniversary?”
“Oliver, Im shattered. Lets just order pizza?”
I nodded, watching her fumble with her phone, searching for the takeaway. Her hands shook.
“Em, whats going on?”
“What dyou mean?”
“Youve been different. For weeks.”
She froze. The phone slipped, clattering onto the table.
“Its just work, Oliver. So much work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! On Saturdays! Why the interrogation?”
Her voice cracked. She was close to tears. I pulled her into a hug. She stiffened, then melted, pressing her face into my shoulder.
“Sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably. I rubbed her back, feeling her heart race.
“Em, if somethings wrong, tell me. Im not a stranger.”
She pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Its fine. Really. Just a rough patch. Itll pass.”
The pizza arrived. We ate in silence, avoiding each others eyes. Emily showered afterward; I stayed, staring at a cold slice of pepperoni.
I couldve said it. “Em, I saw you with a pram. Maddies kid?” But then Id have to admit Id followed her. And shed ask, “Where were you on Fridays?”
What would I say? That I sat in cafés with another woman? That I told her things I no longer told my wife? That sometimes I wondered what if?
My phone buzzed. A text from Charlotte: “Still on for Monday? Want to show you that film I mentioned.”
I deleted it. No. We werent on for Monday. Enough.
Emily emerged in her dressing gown, hair damp, face flushed. She sat beside me.
“Oliver, lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“What about work?”
“Sod work.”
I smiled. When had she last said that?
“Alright. Just us.”
She took my hand. Her fingers were cold, despite the shower.
“Weve lost something, havent we?”
“What?”
“Us. Weve lost us.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Well find it.”
We slept late. Emily made pancakesfirst time in a year. I brewed coffee, sliced fruit. We ate on the balcony, even though it was chilly.
“Remember breakfast in Prague?” she said. “On that tiny terrace?”
“Where you nearly dropped a cup on some blokes head?”
“I did not nearly drop it! It was wobblingstrategically!”
We laughed. How long since wed laughed together?
The day passed oddly, like playing newlyweds. We binged a series curled up on the sofa. Cooked togetherI chopped, she stirred. No talk of work, money, or plans. Just the here and now.
That night, Emily fell asleep on my shoulder. I studied her facerelaxed, peaceful. The crease between her brows had smoothed. She looked like the girl whod spilled coffee on me seven years ago. “God, sorry! Let me pay for dry cleaning! Oror Ill buy you another coffee?”
I bought her one instead. Then another. Then dinner. Then a ring.
She twitched in her sleep, murmuring. I tucked the blanket around her.
On Monday, I went to Charlotte.
“Hi! Thought youd forgotten about the film”
“Lotte, we need to talk.”
Her face fell. Smart girlshe knew.
“Your wife?”
“Yes. No. I mean I cant do this.”
“Oliver, nothing even happened.”
“Exactly. And it wont. Im sorry.”
She nodded, turning to her screen.
“Go. Just go.”
I left. Heavy yet light. It was the right thing. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note on the fridge: “Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”
I reheated it, set the table. She arrived on time but jittery.
“Oliver, I need to tell you something.”
I braced myself. Here it comes.
“Maddies got a son. Four months old. The father bolted when he found out. Shes aloneno job, no money. Ive been helping. Watching him while she interviews. Or just so she can breathe. Im sorry I didnt tell you. I thought youd mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Well weve talked about having our own. And here I am, fussing over someone elses. And Ive lent her moneyfrom my salary,” she added hastily.
I stood, wrapped my arms around her.
“Silly woman. Of course you should help. Shes your sister.”
Emily sniffled into my chest.
“Im so tired of lying. Making up excuses.”
“No more lies.”
I thought of Charlotte. My own dishonesty. But it wasnt the same. It was nothing. Just chats. Just
“Oliver, what about you? Any secrets?”
My heart skipped.
“No. Well sometimes I stayed late, but not for work. Just pints with colleagues. Felt a bit lonely here.”
Not the whole truth. But not a lie. Charlotte had been
