I checked my husbands location on the family tracker the one he claimed hed left to go fishing and the dot blinked right in front of the doors of the city maternity hospital.
Why does the invoice show thirtytwo pounds less than the original estimate? Agatha said, her voice as cold as frost, into the contractors handset from yet another site. We agreed on the Italian marble, reference 712. What did you deliver? A Chinese knockoff?
Ah, Agatha, whos to tell? the foreman cooed, his tone oily. It looks identical, down to the grain! Think of the savings. Ill even give you half a kickbackno one will notice.
Ill notice, Agatha snapped. And thats enough. Have the tiles replaced by tomorrow noon, or well meet in court. I guarantee youll lose not only this job but your licence as well.
She hung up before he could answer, her hands trembling with fury. It was always the same: she poured her soul into a project, sleepless nights sketching every centimetre of a future interior, only for a smoothtalking expert to try and bleed her dry, treating her like a fool. A designer needed nerves of steel and a heart of ironqualities Agatha possessed in abundance. After twenty years in the trade she had learned to defend her visions and put the most brazen subcontractors in their place.
She drove home late, exhausted and angry. At the doorstep waited James, a steaming mug of her favourite peppermint tea.
Another battle? he asked with a soft smile, taking the heavy bag of samples from her. Come in, my valkyrie, dinners on the table.
James was the exact opposite of her: calm, domestic, unambitious. He worked as a design engineer in a quiet office, earning a modest but steady wage, and seemed perfectly content in their cosy little world. He was the island of silence she retreated to after each daily skirmish.
They had been married twentytwo years, raised a son who now studied in another city, and lived a smooth, unremarkable life. Agatha built her career; James kept the home secure. He always met her with a meal, listened to endless complaints about the wrong shade of beige, and never blamed her for disappearing for days on the job. To friends they were the ideal couple, and she believed it herself.
Lately, though, James had become distant, lost in thought. He had taken up a new hobbyfishing. Every weekend he left with his mate Colin for the lakes.
James, is fishing really a thing in November? Agatha asked, halfamused.
Whats wrong with it? he shrugged. The fish are biting now. A bit of quiet, a chance to think. You could use a break too.
She didnt argue. He needed his space. She packed his thermos with hot tea, wrapped sandwiches, and sent him off with a light heart.
That Saturday he left at dawn. Agatha, having finished an urgent job, decided to treat herself. She stopped at a salon, then rumbled into a huge supermarket, drifting between aisles and mentally drafting the weeks menu. She thought to call James and ask if he needed anything for his return. She dialled his number. Long rings. Silence. Again. Silence.
Usually he would answer. A small alarm ticked inside her. Had something happened? A thin sheet of ice, a car stuck She remembered the tracking app theyd installed half a year earlierjust in case they needed to keep an eye on their universitygoing son. She barely used it, feeling it invasive, but now
She opened the app. Three dots glowed: hers, her sons at his hall, and James. Her pulse jerked. His dot wasnt out of town or by the lake; it was in the city, in a residential area. She zoomed in. The point froze on a specific building on Flower Street, number 7. She typed the address into her phone. The screen displayed the impossible: City Maternity Hospital No5.
Glitch, she thought first. A faulty app, a misread. Colin had just become a grandfathermaybe they were paying a visit? But why lie about fishing?
She tried again. The phone was dead. Panic hardened into a cold, sticky dread. She flung the shopping trolley into the middle of the aisle. A woman scolded her, but Agatha didnt hear. She bolted from the store, stumbling to her car, hands shaking so hard she almost missed the key slot.
All the way she repeated a mantra: Its a mistake. Just a mistake. She conjured a hundred rational explanationspicked up a neighbours child, a broken car nearby, anything but the nightmare her mind painted.
She parked opposite the hospital, a plain yellowbrick building with a porch crowded by people bearing flowers and balloons, smiling fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers. She sat in the car, terrified to step out, fearing the scene that would shatter her meticulously arranged world.
And then she saw them.
James emerged from the maternity doors, not in a fishing jacket but in the crisp white shirt she had ironed for him the night before. Beside him walked a young woman, about twentyfive, her face weary yet radiant. In Jamess hand was a white envelope tied with a blue satin ribbon.
An elderly ladypresumably the girls motherran to them, hugging James, whispering joyfully. He smiled, the kind of bright, slightly bewildered grin hed worn twentytwo years ago when he first cradled their newborn Thomas.
Agatha watched the tableau through her windshield, and the world dissolved. No cars, no people, no cityjust this picture: her husband, a stranger, and a child she didnt recognise, while she sat in a car shed bought with her own money.
She didnt get out. She didnt start a scene. Her steelhardened resolve, forged in battles with foremen and clients, whispered a different tactic: act, dont shout.
She turned the car around and drove home to the flat she regarded as her fortress. Inside, everything bore her fingerprints, bought with her wages, all tinged with his presence. She walked to the bookcase where his collection of model shipshis childhood hobbystood prominently. She seized the largest frigate and flung it to the floor. The hull shattered into countless splinters, and with that she felt a sudden release.
Methodically, like drafting a bill of quantities, she began the next steps. First, she called her solicitor.
Arthur Blythe, good morning. I need an urgent divorce and asset split.
Then she opened her laptop, logged into the bank, and transferred every penny from their joint savings to her personal account. The password was their wedding datea bitter irony. She also moved the remainder of her salary, leaving exactly one pound on the joint accountfor a sandwich, for the fisherman.
Next, she packed Jamess belongingscrumpled shirts, his fishing boots, his ridiculous model shipsinto large trash bags. She summoned a removal van and sent the lot to the only address she knew: his mothers house.
When the flat fell silent and echoing, she sank onto the sofa and finally let the tears flow. They werent for betrayal alone but for her own blindness, for trusting too easily. How could a woman so sharp at work be such a fool at home? How had she missed the lie?
That evening James called, his voice trembling.
Agatha, I dont understand I got home and my things are gone. The accounts are empty. Were we robbed?
We werent robbed, James, she replied, voice as cold as steel. Its just a redesign. I cleared out the surplus.
What surplus? Where are my things? Wheres the money?!
Your stuff is with your mother. As for the money consider it child support for your newborn. I happened to be at the fifth maternity todaywhat a touching scene, congratulations. I hope the fishing went well.
A dead silence hung for a few seconds.
Agatha Ill explain everything! Its not what you think!
I dont need explanations. I need nothing from you. My solicitor will contact you about the divorce tomorrow. Dont look for me. Forget this number.
She hung up, blocked his contact, then walked to the kitchen, pulled out a pad of drafting paper and her favourite pencils, and began to draw the blueprint of her new lifewithout him, without lies, without compromise. The colour would not be almost the same; it would be the only true hue: the shade of freedom.
Betrayal cuts deep, but sometimes it marks the point where a genuine new chapter begins. What would you have done in Agathas place? Would you have listened to his pleas, or acted as decisively as she did? Share your thoughts.
