For three Saturdays in a row, Emily had left the house “for work.” What I saw turned everything upside down.
“Late again?” Thomas tried to keep his voice steady, but it trembled all the same.
Emily froze, her hand on her bag. She turned slowly, as if buying time.
“Yes, the projects a nightmare. The boss is losing iteveryones scrambling.”
“On a Saturday? Three weeks running?”
“Thomas, dont be childish. Work is work.”
She kissed his cheekquick, perfunctory, like a neighbour in a lift. She didnt smell like her usual perfume. Something sweet and milky lingered instead. Thomas frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Tonight. Everything tonight, alright?”
The door slammed. Thomas stood in the hallway, fists clenched. The third Saturday. The third damned Saturday shed left early and returned exhausted, silent, a stranger.
He couldnt take it anymore. Snatching the car keys, he hurried out.
Emily stepped from the building, glancing around. Thomas ducked in the carthankfully parked behind a van. She hailed a cab. He started the engine.
They drove for ages. Not towards the officehe knew that much. Somewhere on the other side of London, in a quiet residential area. His heart hammered. Hed see for himself now. The truth would out.
Emily stepped out by a shabby block of flats. Thomas parked further down, following on foot. She disappeared inside. He waited, counting floors by the windows. Third one, left side.
For half an hour, nothing. Then Emily reappearedbut not alone.
With a pram.
Thomas nearly stumbled. A baby? They had no childrentheyd only just begun talking about it, before these Saturdays started…
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram, murmuring something. She looked flustered, unsure. A young woman dashed outThomas recognised Emilys younger sister, Lucy. The same reckless Lucy who, at twenty-five, had already been married and divorced twice.
“Em, thank you! Ill be quicktwo hours, max!”
“Lucy, you said one!”
“Oh, come on! Please, I really need this!”
Lucy bolted, leaving Emily with the screaming infant. She pushed the pram helplessly back and forth.
Thomas retreated around the corner, leaning against the wall. So, not an affair. A nephew. But why the secrecy? Why the lies?
He hurried back to the car, speeding home. He had to beat Emily back. He had to think.
At home, Thomas paced. He couldve just asked. *”Emily, whereve you been?”* But shed have liedhe knew it. Just as hed lied.
Because he had a secret too.
Sarah. The receptionist from the next department. Nothing improperjust chats after work, coffee, the odd film. She listened to his coding stories, laughed at his jokes, looked at him with admiration. The way Emily used to. Before their life became “buy bread,” “pay the bills,” “socks on the floor again.”
With Sarah, it was easy. She reminded him of the Emily hed fallen for seven years agobright, carefree, hanging on his every word about algorithms and debugging.
The key turned. Thomas startled, grabbing the remote, flicking on the telly.
“Hi,” Emily peeked in. “Youve been here all day?”
“Yeah. Couldnt be bothered to go out.”
She moved to the kitchen. Thomas heard running water, clinking dishes. He followed.
Emily stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Her shoulders slumped, shadows under her eyes. A stain on her jeansbaby formula, perhaps.
“Em.”
“What?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, surprised.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Fancy dinner out? That Italian place we went to for our anniversary?”
“Thomas, Im shattered. Lets just order a pizza?”
He nodded, watching as she fumbled for her phone, searching for delivery. Her hands shook.
“Em, whats going on?”
“What dyou mean?”
“Youve been… different. For weeks.”
She stilled. The phone slipped, clattering onto the table.
“Its just work, Thomas. Too much work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! On Saturdays! Why the interrogation?”
Her voice cracked. Thomas saw tears brimming. He stepped closer, pulling her in. She stiffened, then sagged against him, face buried in his shoulder.
“Sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably. Thomas rubbed her back, feeling her heart race.
“Em, if somethings wrong, tell me. Im not a stranger.”
She drew back, wiping her eyes.
“Its fine. Really. Just a rough patch. Itll pass.”
The pizza arrived forty minutes later. They ate in silence, avoiding each others eyes. Emily showered after; Thomas stayed at the table, staring at his cold slice.
He couldve said it. *”Emily, I saw you with a pram. Lucys kid?”* But then hed have to admit hed followed her. And shed ask, *”And you? Whereve you been on Fridays?”*
What would he say? That he sat in cafés with another woman? That he told her things hed stopped telling his wife? That sometimes he wondered… *what if?*
His phone buzzed. A text from Sarah: *”Monday? I want to show you that film I mentioned.”*
Thomas deleted it. No. They wouldnt meet. Enough.
Emily emerged in her dressing gown, hair damp, face flushed. She sat beside him.
“Thomas, lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“What about work?”
“Work can wait.”
He smiled. When had she last said that?
“Alright. Just us.”
She took his hand. Her fingers were cold, despite the hot shower.
“Weve lost something, havent we?”
“What?”
“Us. Weve lost us.”
Thomas squeezed her hand.
“Well find it.”
They woke late. Emily made pancakesfor the first time in a year. Thomas brewed coffee, sliced fruit. They breakfasted on the balcony, though it was chilly.
“Remember that café in Edinburgh?” Emily said. “That tiny terrace?”
“Where you nearly dropped a cup on some poor blokes head?”
“I didnt nearly drop it, I just set it down badly!”
They laughed. How long since theyd laughed together?
The day passed strangely, like playing newlyweds. They binged a series curled up on the sofa, cooked lunch side by sideThomas chopping, Emily stirring. No talk of work, money, plans. Just the here and now.
That evening, Emily fell asleep against his shoulder. Thomas studied her facerelaxed, peaceful. The crease between her brows had smoothed. She looked like the girl whod spilled coffee on his shirt seven years ago. *”Oh, God, sorry! Let me pay for dry cleaning! Or… or Ill buy you another coffee? To make up for it?”*
Hed bought her coffee instead. Then another. Then dinner. Then a ring.
Emily twitched in her sleep, murmuring. Thomas tucked a blanket around her.
On Monday, he went to Sarah.
“Hi! I thought youd forgotten about the film”
“Sarah, we need to talk.”
Her face fell. Clever girlshe understood.
“Your wife?”
“Yes. No. I mean… I cant do this anymore.”
“Thomas, 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 all at once. Hed done the right thing. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note on the fridge: *”Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”*
Thomas reheated the meal, set the table. Emily returned on time but jittery.
“Thomas, I need to tell you something.”
He froze. This was it.
“Lucys got a son. Four months old. The father left when he found out. Shes alone, no job, no money. Ive… been helping. Looking after the baby while she interviews. Or just… so she can rest. Sorry I didnt say. Thought youd mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Well… weve been trying for our own. And here I am with someone elses. And Ive lent her money sometimes. From my salary,” she added hastily.
Thomas stood, rounding the table to embrace her.
“Silly woman. Of course you help her. Shes your sister.”
Emily sniffled into his chest.
“Im so tired of lying. Making up where Ive been.”
“No more lies.”
He thought of Sarah. Of his own deceit. But nothis was different. It had been nothing
