**Diary Entry 10th May**
*”I was with your husband while you lay ill,”* my so-called friend smirked, adjusting her flawless updo. Her voice was calm, almost lazy, as if she were discussing the weather.
Katherine turned her head slowly on the pillow, which felt stuffed with stones. The stale scent of medicine in the bedroom clashed with the sharp, cloying perfume clinging to Eleanor. It seemed to have seeped into the walls, the curtainsinto the very essence of the home, smothering everything familiar.
*”Now Im taking him, and the house. Edwards already signed everything. Dont worry, Ill call you a social taxi.”*
Eleanors gaze swept the room like a rightful owner, lingering on the antique birchwood vanitythe last of Katherines family heirlooms. Her smile was thin, precise as a scalpel.
Katherine stared at the woman shed called sister for twenty years. Two decades of shared holidays, whispered secrets, tears shed on each others shoulders. All reduced to a single sentence, tossed into that suffocating, pain-filled bedroom.
*”You couldnt,”* Katherine whispered. Her voice sounded alien, cracked like an old record.
*”Why not?”* Eleanor strode to the window and yanked the heavy curtain aside, flooding the room with cruel daylight. Katherine flinched. *”You were always too proper, Kathy. Too convenient. Did you think your sacrifice was virtue? No, darling. In this world, its just weaknessa resource to be used.”*
Edward, her husband, appeared in the doorway. He wouldnt meet her eyes, staring instead at the parquet floor. In his hands was an old suitcasehers, untouched for years.
*”Edward?”* she called, and in that single word was a last, desperate hope.
He flinched, shoulders sagging further. *”Im sorry, Kate. Its better this way. For everyone.”* His voice was hollow, as if echoing through water.
Eleanor gave a short, triumphant laugh. *”See? He doesnt even deny it. Men crave strength, actionpassion. You? Youre just background. Cozy, warm, but faded.”*
She leaned close, breath hot on Katherines cheek. *”I slept in your bed, wore your silk robes while you fought for your life. And he looked at me like he never looked at youwith hunger. Real desire.”*
Each word was a calculated blow. No screams, no melodrama. Just poison, and the guilty silence of a man whod once sworn eternal love.
*”Get out,”* Katherine murmured, barely audible.
*”Oh, I will. But not alone.”* Eleanor straightened, nodding regally at Edward. *”Darling, help me. Katherines things need packing. She mustnt tire herself.”*
He stepped forward, finally meeting her eyes. His were emptygrey and lifeless. He took the suitcase and left, careful not to brush the furniture.
Katherine watched them go. The physical pain of illness faded beneath something colder, harder. She realized thenshed lived an illusion. A comfortable world shed built herself, already dead long before today.
When the front door clicked shut, she lay motionless for minutes. Then, fighting nausea, she stood. Her legs trembled, but she reached the vanity. Her reflection was gaunt, dark circles under her eyesbut the eyes themselves were different. No fear, no tears. Just dry, icy clarity.
She picked up the phone. Her fingers shook, but she dialed a number she knew by heart.
*”William? Its Katherine Ellison. Yes, Edwards wife. I need your help. It seems my husbands made a terrible mistake.”*
A pause. William, Edwards longtime business partner, was no-nonsense, impatient with drama.
*”Kate, whats happened? Is Edward alright?”*
*”More than alright. He just walked out with my best friend. And my suitcase.”*
Another pause, heavier now.
*”Understood. Money? Documents? Whats he signed?”* Williams voice turned sharp.
*”She said everything. The house. Probably accounts too. Shes confident, William. No doubt at all.”*
*”Where are you now?”*
*”Still here. But Ill leave. Ill go to Grans flat by the river.”*
*”Good. Dont touch anything. Dont speak to anyone. Ill be there in an hour. And Katetry to remember anything Edward said about work these past six months. Any detail. Especially new projects. Names he mentioned. Wait for me.”*
She hung up. An hour. She had an hour.
The bedroom felt foreign now. Weakness washed over her, but something stronger drove her forward. She walked to the wardrobeEleanors clothes hung beside hers. She didnt pack.
Instead, she pressed a hidden panel behind the wardrobe. A small safe opened. Edward thought he alone knew of it. But Katherine knew every inch of this houseshed built it.
Inside were documents and flash drives. She took the newest one, slipped it into her pocket, then texted an old contact in cybersecurity.
Leaving, she didnt look back. She wasnt just leaving twenty years of marriage. She was leaving the Katherine who forgave, endured, believed.
—
**Epilogue Two Years Later**
The flat by the river smelled of old books and dust. Katherine sat at the kitchen table, the walls wrapping her in safety.
William arrived exactly an hour later, placing a leather briefcase on the table. *”Talk.”*
And she did. About the illness. How Eleanor visited daily. How Edward withdrew, citing a *”complex project.”*
*”Project”* William rubbed his temples. *”He called it Phoenix. I was against ittoo risky, near fraudulent. But Edward wouldnt listen.”*
*”Her idea?”* Katherine asked softly.
*”Eleanors? No doubt. She worked for a rival firm we nearly bankrupted last year. Revenge, Id say. A perfect plan. She found his weakest pointgreed and infatuation.”*
William opened the briefcase. *”Worst part? He used my digital signature for a loan against our shared assets. I was in Germany for surgery when he called. Said it was life or death. I believed him. Fool.”*
Katherine watched him, cold clarity settling in. *”He couldnt have done this alone. He lacked the skill.”*
*”But he did it.”*
*”No,”* she shook her head. *”He was the tool. She directed him. I found her drafts in our shared cloud. Edward was carelessthought I wouldnt understand those files. Schemes, calculations. Instructions for him.”*
She handed him the flash drive. *”My contact decrypted it. Edwards backup archive. Every transaction, every email. From dummy accounts, but traceable.”*
William stared at her, something like respect in his eyes. *”Kate I underestimated you.”*
*”Everyone did,”* she replied, no bitterness, just icy certainty. *”And that was their greatest mistake.”*
—
**Present Day**
Two years on, Katherines workshop is bathed in light, smelling of wood, turpentine, and fresh coffee. The brick walls, like her flat, remain untouchedhonest, real.
She restored Williams company archives, uncovering forgotten contracts that brought hefty profits. He offered her a financial analyst role. She declined.
Instead, she invested her share into a dreamher own restoration workshop. Three apprentices now work under her; orders are booked six months ahead. Her name carries weight among antique dealers. She breathes life into lost things.
Edward? A distant cousin mentioned hed aged terribly, working as a clerk in his hometown, living with his mother. Failed business ventures, debts. He called once, begging forgivenessand money.
*”You had money, Edward. A home. A life you traded for glitter. Learn to live with your choices,”* shed said, and hung up.
Eleanor fared worse. Connections saved her from prison, but she lost everythingreputation, job, flat, car. Auctioned off for debts.
Katherine last saw her in a discount supermarket, hauling a cheap tote. Faded, bitter. Their eyes metno remorse, just hate. Eleanor still blamed her, never grasping shed ruined herself.
Katherine noddedpolite, distantand walked on.
William visits often now. Not for business. Just to sit, drink coffee, talk books and old films.
*”Tired,”* he admitted once, accepting a cup. *”Sometimes I want to quit and take up polishing something myself.”*
*”Its harder than it looks,”* she smiled, running a hand over an antique table.
*”I know. You taught me the best things need patience and honesty,”* he said warmly. *”Im glad you called me that day.”*
*”So am I.”*
Their friendship remainsno more, no less. Enough.
Alone in the workshop that night, she turned on quiet music, tied her apron, and worked. Ahead lay hours of careful, beloved labour.
She isnt afraid of solitude anymore. Solitude isnt emptinessits wholeness. You can be lonely in a crowd or content alone. She chose the latter.
And for the first time in her life, she is happy.
A year later, she trusted love again. Everyone deserves a second chance.
**Lesson learned:** Underestimate no oneespecially the quiet ones. And never mistake kindness for weakness.
