Mrs. Emily Thompson gasped, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the strap of her handbag. There, across the crowded school hall at her daughters graduation, stood her husbandchatting intimately with a woman shed never seen before.
“Mrs. Thompson, have you lost your mind? This is a graduation, not a circus!” Mrs. Harrington, the Year 13 form tutor, threw her hands up in exasperation. “Live butterflies? Where on earth would we even get them? And more importantlywhy?”
“Mrs. Harrington, this has to be special!” Emily tapped her pen insistently against the list of ideas. “Its our childrens last school celebration. Theyll remember this for the rest of their lives!”
The headmasters office buzzed with the voices of the parent committee. Charlotte sat quietly in the corner, her mind elsewhereupcoming project deadlines, unpaid bills, and the quiet, gnawing worry about her husband, who had seemed increasingly distant lately.
“Mrs. Parker? You work in event planning, dont you?” Mrs. Harringtons voice pulled her back to the present. “What do you think?”
Charlotte straightened in her chair, gathering her thoughts. “I think we should focus on what truly matters to the studentsgood music, a photo booth, perhaps a modest buffet. Everything else is just unnecessary expense.”
Emily pressed her lips together. “Typical. Always pinching pennies. The children want a proper celebration!”
“They want to enjoy their last night with friends, not watch butterflies,” Charlotte countered gently. “Ask Sophie if you dont believe me.”
Mentioning her daughter softened Emilys defiance. “Fine. Lets vote. All in favour of a simpler plan?”
Hands rose, and Charlotte exhaled in relief. One less problem. If only she could figure out what was happening at home.
Leaving the meeting, she dialled her husbands number.
“James? Still at work?” she asked, weaving through the car park.
“Yeah, running late. Projects a disaster. Dont wait up.”
“Again?” She couldnt hide the frustration in her voice. “Third time this week.”
“Charlotte, not now,” he snapped. “Im working, not out having fun. And dont worryIll be there for Sophies graduation.”
“Fine,” she relented. “See you tomorrow.”
At home, Sophie was hunched over a history textbook at the kitchen table. Exams were over, but university loomed.
“How was the meeting?” she asked without looking up. “Save us from another one of Mrs. Thompsons wild ideas?”
Charlotte smiled, pulling ingredients from the fridge. “You wont believe itlive butterflies.”
Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Id spend the whole night terrified one would land on me.”
“Exactly. Dads working late again.”
“Shocker,” Sophie muttered. Then, hesitantly: “Mum do you ever think hes?”
Charlotte froze, knife in hand. “Think what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
But the seed was planted.
The next fortnight blurred in a flurry of work and graduation preparations. James kept disappearing, promising hed be there on the day.
Graduation morning, Charlotte visited the salonhair, nails, light makeup. At forty-five, she still turned heads, especially in the elegant navy dress Sophie had insisted on.
“Mum, youve got to look amazing. Let my friends be jealous,” Sophie teased, adjusting Charlottes necklace.
Sophie herself glowed in her white graduation gown. Seeing her, Charlottes eyes pricked with tears.
“Dont start,” Sophie grumbled, though her own eyes shone. “Youll ruin your makeup.”
The school hall was transformedballoons, flowers, a photo booth with the year emblazoned across it. Charlotte noted with satisfaction that it looked perfect, even without butterflies.
Parents filtered in. Charlotte saved a seat for James, checking her phone. The ceremony was starting in fifteen minutes. No sign of him.
Her message went unanswered until: *On my way. Ten minutes.*
The ceremony began. The headmaster spoke, students collected their diplomas. When Sophies name was called, Charlotte craned her neckand there he was.
James stood near the back, clapping. Beside hima woman. Blonde, tall, in a red dress, younger than Charlotte. She whispered something, and James smiledthe same smile he once reserved only for his family.
Charlottes stomach dropped. So this was why the late nights, the hushed calls, the deleted messages. Hed brought her here. To their daughters graduation.
Sophie, clutching her diploma, beamed at her parents. She hadnt noticed the womanor hadnt cared.
Charlotte sat frozen, the speeches fading into white noise. *How could he?*
After the ceremony, James found themalone.
“Congratulations, love!” He swung Sophie into a hug before turning to Charlotte, kissing her cheek. “Sorry I was late.”
“I saw when you arrived,” she said icily.
His expression tightened. “Whats wrong?”
“Well talk later.”
When Sophie dashed off with friends, James grabbed Charlottes arm. “Seriously, whats going on?”
“Who is she?”
Confusion flickered across his face before realisation dawned. “Oh. Thats Laura. Look, I was going to introduce you properly, but”
“Introduce me?” Charlottes voice cracked.
James looked genuinely stunned. “Christ, Char, you didnt think? Shes my new bosss daughter. Just moved here. He asked me to show her around.”
Charlotte searched Lauras face as they were introduced. No guilt, no slynessjust polite awkwardness.
Still, something was off.
Later, in the quiet of the park, James finally confessed.
“Its not what you thought. But I have been hiding something.”
Her heart hammered.
“Remember my back pain? They found something on the scan. Needed more tests.”
The ground tilted. “Why didnt you tell me?”
“Didnt want to scare you. Not before Sophies graduation. Butits benign. Just needs surgery.”
Charlotte hugged him fiercely. “You idiot. Were supposed to face things together.”
He buried his face in her hair. “I know. Im sorry.”
Twenty years of marriage, and they still had so much to learn. But this, at least, was certaintheyd face whatever came next. Together.
