For three Saturdays in a row, Emily had left the house “for work.” What Mark saw turned everything upside down.
“Late again?” Mark tried to keep his voice steady, but it betrayed him with a tremor.
Emily froze with her bag in hand, turning slowly as if buying time. “Yeah, the projects a disaster. The boss is losing it, everyones scrambling.”
“On a *Saturday*? For the *third* week running?”
“Oh, dont be such a child, Mark. Work is work.”
She kissed his cheekquick, perfunctory, like youd peck a neighbour in the lift. And she didnt smell like her usual perfume. Something sweet, milky. He frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Later. Everything later, alright?”
The door slammed. Mark stood in the hallway, fists clenched. The third Saturday. The third blasted Saturday in a row where his wife left at dawn and came back exhausted, silent, a stranger.
He couldnt take it anymore. Snatching the car keys, he bolted outside.
Emily stepped out of the building, glancing around. Mark ducked in the carthankfully parked behind a van. She hailed a cab. He turned the ignition.
They drove for ages. Not to her office. Some dreary housing estate on the other side of London. His heart hammered wildly. Hed see now. Everything would make sense.
She got out near a shabby block of flats. Mark parked further off, tailing her. She disappeared inside. He waited, counting floors by the windows. Third. Left side.
Half an hour passed. Then Emily reappearedbut not alone.
With a pram.
Mark nearly collapsed. A *baby*? They didnt *have* kidswell, theyd *planned* to, before these Saturdays started
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram awkwardly, murmuring something. She looked flustered, out of her depth. Then a young woman dashed outMark recognised Emilys younger sister, Lucy. The same Lucy who, at twenty-five, had already been married and divorced twice.
“Em, youre a lifesaver! Two hours, tops!”
“Lucy, you said *one*!”
“Please, Em? I *really* need this!”
And off she went, leaving Emily with a screaming infant. His wife pushed the pram helplessly back and forth.
Mark slumped against a wall. Not an affair. A nephew. But why the secrecy? Why the lies?
He drove home, needing to beat Emily back, needing to think.
At home, he paced. He *could* just ask. *”Where were you, Em?”* But shed liehe knew it. Just like *he* had been lying.
Because *he* had a secret too.
Jessica. The receptionist from the next department. Nothing seriousjust chats after work, coffee, the odd film. She laughed at his coding jokes, listened wide-eyed. Like Emily *used* to. Before their life became *”buy bread,” “pay the bills,” “socks on the floor again?”*
With Jessica, it was easy. She reminded him of the Emily hed fallen for seven years ago. Carefree, bright, hanging on his every nerdy word.
The key turned in the lock. Mark grabbed the remote, flicked on the telly.
“Hi.” Emily peered in. “Youve been here all day?”
“Yep. Couldnt be bothered going out.”
She headed to the kitchen. The clatter of dishes, running water. He followed.
Emily stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Shoulders slumped, dark circles under her eyes. A stain on her jeanslooked like baby formula.
“Em.”
“What?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, blinking.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Fancy dinner out? That Italian place we went to for our anniversary?”
“Mark, Im *wrecked*. Lets just order pizza?”
He nodded. Watched her fumble with her phone, hunting the takeaway number. 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, Mark. *Loads* of work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! On Saturdays! Why the interrogation?”
Her voice cracked. She was close to tears. He pulled her in. She stiffened, then sagged, face buried in his shoulder.
“Sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably. He rubbed her back, felt her pulse racing.
“Em, if somethings wrong, tell me. Im not some stranger.”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“Its fine. Honestly. Just a rough patch. Itll sort itself out.”
The pizza arrived forty minutes late. They ate in silence, avoiding each others eyes. Emily showered; Mark stared at a congealing slice of ham and pineapple.
He *could* say it. *”Em, I saw you with a pram. Was that Lucys?”* But then hed have to admit hed followed her. And shed ask, *”Where were YOU on Friday nights?”*
What would he say? That hed been in a café with another woman? Telling her things he hadnt told his wife in years? That sometimes hed wondered *what if?*
His phone buzzed. A text from Jessica: *”Still on for Monday? Want to show you that film.”*
Mark deleted it. No. They werent “on” for anything. Enough.
Emily emerged in a towel, hair damp, face flushed. She sat beside him.
“Mark lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“What about work?”
“Sod work.”
He smiled. When had she last said that?
“Alright. Just us.”
She took his hand. Her fingers were icy, despite the shower.
“We lost something, didnt we?”
“What?”
“Us. We lost *us*.”
He squeezed her hand.
“Well find it.”
They slept in. Emily made pancakesfirst time in a year. Mark brewed coffee, sliced fruit. They breakfasted on the balcony, even though it was chilly.
“Remember that tiny terrace in Barcelona?” Emily said.
“Where you nearly brained a passer-by with your coffee cup?”
“I did *not* nearlyI just set it down badly!”
They laughed. How long since theyd laughed together?
The day passed oddly. Like playing newlyweds. They binge-watched a series tangled on the sofa. Cooked togetherMark chopped, Emily stirred. No talk of work, money, plans. Just *now*.
That night, Emily dozed on his shoulder. Mark studied her facesmooth, relaxed. The frown line gone. She looked like the girl whod spilled coffee on him seven years ago. *”Sorry! Let me pay for dry-cleaning! Oror Ill buy you another coffee?”*
Hed bought *her* one instead. Then another. Then dinner. Then a ring.
Emily twitched in her sleep, mumbling. He tucked the blanket around her.
On Monday, he went to Jessica.
“Hi! Thought youd forgotten about the film”
“Jess we need to talk.”
Her face fell. Smart girl. She knew.
“Wife?”
“Yes. No. I mean I cant do this.”
“Mark, nothing even *happened*.”
“Exactly. And it wont. Im sorry.”
She nodded, turning to her screen.
“Go. Just go.”
He left. His chest felt heavy and light at once. Right thing. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note on the fridge: *”Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”*
He reheated it, set the table. Emily arrived on timebut jittery.
“Mark I need to tell you something.”
He froze. *Here it comes.*
“Lucys got a son. Four months old. The dad bolted when he found out. Shes skint, no job Ive been helping. Watching him while she interviews. Or just so she can breathe. Sorry I didnt say. Thought youd hate it.”
“Why would I?”
“Well we want kids. And here I am, fussing over someone elses. And Ive lent her money. From my wages,” she added hastily.
Mark stood, rounded the table, pulled her close.
“Silly cow. Of *course* you help her. Shes your sister.”
Emily sobbed into his chest.
“Im *so* tired of lying. Making up where Im going.”
“Done. No more lies.”
He thought of Jessica. Of his own lies. But nothis was different. It had been *nothing*. Just chats. Just
“Mark any secrets of yours?”
His heart skipped.
“No. Well
