Laura was whipping up dinner. Paul had asked for seafood pasta, so after work she popped into the corner supermarket, grabbed everything she needed and got stuck in the kitchen all by herself. Paul ran a bit late, but showed up with a bunch of roses and shouted, Laura, look whos home, your tired hubby! I could hear the grin in his voice. Laura laughed, took the flowers and popped them into a vase.
After they’d eaten and chatted about the days hassles, they settled onto the sofa, turned on a film and relaxed. Paul and Laura had been married for over ten years now the early spark had settled into a comfortable warmth. They ran a small family business together: Laura handled the suppliers, Paul took care of sales and the finances. They lived in a nice flat, everything was ticking over nicely. Kids? Not on the agenda yet; theyd thought about it maybe when they hit forty.
A few weeks earlier Laurad rescued a scruffy little kitten shed found wandering down the lane. Paul wasnt thrilled. Whats this stray doing in our flat? Take it to a shelter. If you want a cat, get a pedigree everyones got a Maine Coon now. Not this mudball. But Laura had already fallen for the tiny grey tabby and she started calling him Mog. Paul and the cat didnt get along at all. Paul would give him a furtive kick or a shove, and in return Mog would sprawl across his trousers, shed fur everywhere, or claw at his jumper.
One evening Paul yelled, Im getting rid of this cat hes ruining my clothes! Laura tried to calm him down, Dont fling things about. Put them away, itll stop him from getting on you. Paul muttered, Mogs a stupid name anyway. The cat flicked his green eyes at them both, looking like he owned the place.
For the next year it was a quiet war between husband and cat. Lately Mog seemed to get under Pauls skin even more; the moment he saw the feline, hed shout, Whats that doing here? Hes going to cause trouble. Laura would say, Paul, mate, hes just minding his own business. Hes not a menace. Laura, hes pissing me off. Can you give him away? No way, hes mine. By the end of the year Mog had grown into a big, handsome, fluffy cat.
Laura did the Saturday deepclean while Paul was off on a Thursday business trip to Manchester. Hed be gone until at least Sunday, so she cleared the flat, dusted, and washed everything. Mog was busy pawing at a cupboard door. What are you up to, you little thief? Laura asked, reaching for the cat. In the gap of the door she found a thin folder. She pulled it out and inside were receipts: hotel bookings, shortbreak holiday vouchers, expensive jewellery purchases, airline tickets. None of the jewellery was hers. There was also a contract for a car sale, signed by a woman called Natalie, but the payment had come from Pauls account.
She flicked through the papers, spotting Pauls notes in the margins. Hed a habit of stashing receipts, later passing them through the company to make the money look legit. This was just another hidden stash. Laura felt a cold knot tighten inside her. She wanted to crumple the documents, smash them, call Paul straight away, but she held back. Mog brushed against her leg, jumped onto the folder and mewed plaintively. You saw that, didnt you? You showed it to me, she whispered to the cat. He nuzzled her, purring a soothing tune that helped her steady herself.
Alright, Mog, youre right. I need to think before I act, she told him. She photocopied every receipt and contract. Later that evening she searched social media for the cars owner. She found a young woman posing with a brandnew red car, captioned gift from my love. The photo showed only the back of the woman and the cars interior Laura recognised the husbands hands and the shape of his back. Paul had a mistress, and he was splashing the familys money on her.
Paul got back on Sunday night, as cheerful as ever, roses in hand. Why arent you meeting your husband at the door? he shouted as he stepped in. Laura, her eyes red and puffy, replied, Im feeling a bit under the weather. Paul ate his dinner, then Laura retreated to the spare room. Should we call a doctor? he asked. No, Ill just rest. Ive already taken some meds, she said.
Paul dozed off, his phone left on the kitchen bench. Laura, who had always trusted him and never peered at his messages, picked it up out of curiosity. She scrolled through texts, WhatsApp chats and emails. Everything clicked into place. That evening Paul had texted his sunshine, Missing you. Lets meet Tuesday. By Monday Laura sent Paul off to work, telling him she was feeling ill and would stay at the cottage to recover. She gathered the documents and booked a meeting with a solicitor.
The solicitor drafted a divorce petition and a claim for the marital assets. Laura, without telling Paul, said, I think Ive caught a nasty bug, Ill be at the cottage for a while. She still came into the office once a week, commuting from the city, and kept handling her supplier work remotely. When Paul received the court papers, it hit him like a bolt from the blue. He rushed over, What are you doing? Weve been together for years. Ive done everything for you. Laura simply replied, Ive fallen out of love, Paul. See you in court. She kept quiet about the mistress.
In court the solicitor presented the receipts and the car contract. Paul looked genuinely startled. The judge asked, Did you really spend that kind of money on a lover? Did you buy her a car? Paul mumbled, Yes I did. Lauras lawyer secured a division of the assets, a fair share of the business, and also reclaimed half of the money Paul had spent on his affair, since it was family money. Paul didnt object.
In the end Paul kept the flat, Laura got the cottage and a tidy lump sum. The cars stayed as they were each kept their own. Before the divorce Laura had already shifted some of her supplier contacts to a new company and was restarting the business from scratch, now handling both sales and finance herself. She and Mog are doing fine, the venture is thriving.
Paul is left fuming. His exwife is now a competitor, and a successful one at that. His finances have taken a hit, and his new fling isnt turning out to be the dream. He meets her, goes home to an empty flat, and wonders how it all went so wrong.
