She slipped open Marks laptop and stumbled upon a thread with her sister.
Poppy, how many times must I hear this? I told you Id forgotten! Mark slammed his palm on the table, the tea cups chimed. Forgotten, you see? Not on purpose!
Forgotten! Every single time! Claires voice trembled as she stood in the kitchen, eyes reddened from crying. Thats the third time this month! Tommy has a test tomorrow, he needs his book! You promised to pop to the shop!
And you couldnt just go yourself? Are your hands falling off?
I was at work until eight! You left early, you could have swung by!
Mark sprang up, pushing his chair back.
You know what, Im done with your complaints! Im always the bad guy! He grabbed his jacket from the rack. Im going for a walk or Ill lose my mind here!
The door slammed. Claire sank onto a chair, her face buried in her palms. Tears pressed hard, but she didnt want Tommy to see her sobbing. Tommy was in his room, pretending to do homework while surely hearing every word of the argument.
She wiped her eyes, rose, and told herself to calm down. It wasnt the first time theyd quarreled, but something had shifted lately. Mark had become irritable, distant. He came home late, answered questions with monosyllables, and was glued to his phone.
Claire padded into the bedroom, sat on the bed. The silence pressed against her ears. Outside, an October drizzle fell, dull and endless. She glanced at the nightstand where Marks laptop lay, abandoned after his walk. He usually carried it everywhere, but today the rush had left it behind.
She reached out, then hesitated. Was she about to spy on her husband? It felt base. Yet her hand moved of its own accord, lifted the lid. The screen flickered on, displaying a family photo: her, Mark, and little Tommy at a cottage, arms around each other, smiling. It must have been three years ago.
She swiped the touchpad, entered the passwordTommys birthdateand the desktop appeared, folders and program icons, nothing suspicious.
She opened the browser. The history showed news sites and an autoenthusiast forum. Marks love of cars, nothing odd. She clicked the mail client. The inbox was full of work messages, promotions, newsletters.
Just as she was about to close it, an icon at the bottom caught her eyea messenger. She hovered, clicked.
A chat window opened. The top conversation was with Emily, Claires sister.
Her heart dropped. Claire stared at the screen, disbelief tightening her jaw. Emily? Why was Mark texting Emily? They had never been close. Emily lived in another city, visited once a year for holidays.
She clicked Emilys name. The messages unfolded.
Mark, thank you so much! You have no idea how important this is to me.
Youre welcome, Em. Happy to help. Just dont tell Poppy yet, okay?
Of course I wont! Shed never understand. You know how she is
I know. Thats why I wanted to discuss it with you first.
The words chilled Claire to the bone. What were they hiding?
She scrolled up. The exchange had started a month and a half ago. First line from Emily:
Mark, hi! Sorry to drop a surprise message. I need your help. Can we talk?
Hey, Emily. Sure, Ill call back in twenty minutes.
From then on they wrote almost daily. Emily complained about work, loneliness, and Mark offered advice. Then came:
Ive decided. Ill be in town on Saturday. Will you meet me?
Of course. Where and when?
At the station, three in the afternoon. Thanks, youre a true friend.
Claire checked the date. It was last Saturday. She remembered Mark saying he was heading to a friends cottage that morning, returning late. He hadnt gone to a friend; he had met Emily. Why the secrecy?
Her hands shook as she kept reading. After their meeting Emily wrote:
Mark, Im so grateful! You literally saved me! I dont know how to thank you.
No need to thank me. I just want things to work out for you.
Will they? You believe in me, and that gives me strength.
More days passed, filled with vague phrases and hints. Then, yesterday evening:
Mark, Ill be back soon. Miss you. Shall we meet?
Yes, but be careful. Poppy seems suspicious, I think.
Dont worry. I understand. See you.
Claire slammed the laptop shut, staring at the wall. Chaos swirled in her headMark, Emily, secret meetings. Had he been unfaithful with his own sister?
She told herself it was nonsense. Emily wasnt that kind of person; theyd grown up together, swapping dolls, sharing secrets. Yet a memory flashed: in school Emily had stolen Claires boyfriend, Max, just for fun, leaving a bitter taste.
Sorry, Poppy, I didnt mean it, Emily had shrugged back then. Claire had forgiven her at sixteen, thinking it was trivial.
Now the past resurfaced.
She remembered Emilys wedding, where shed been a bridesmaid in a pink dress, fluttering around Mark, laughing at his jokes, touching his arm.
Poppy, youre so lucky! Mark is a catch! Emily had cooed, hugging her.
Claire had brushed it off.
Later, Emily visited on Tommys birthday and New Years, bringing gifts, chatting with Mark in the kitchen while Claire cooked. It had seemed ordinary.
But what if
Claire paced the room, trying to steady herself. Perhaps Emily truly needed help, and Mark was just being kind? Why hide it?
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Mark returned. Claire slipped onto the bed, feigned sleep. She heard him move to the kitchen, then the bathroom, then back to the bedroom, his steps silent.
Poppy, are you asleep? he whispered.
She stayed still. He sighed, lay down beside her, his breathing even. He fell asleep.
Claire lay awake, eyes fixed on the darkness, thoughts colliding like storm clouds.
Morning arrived with a pounding headache. Mark was brighteyed, perhaps too bright.
Poppy, Im sorry about yesterday, he said, pouring coffee. I really did forget Tommys book. Ill buy it after work.
Fine, Claire muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Are you still mad at me?
No. Just feeling awful.
Maybe you should take a sick day, rest a bit.
Ill see.
Mark kissed her cheek briskly, then left for work. Tommy grabbed his school bag, and Claire watched him go, feeling alone.
She reopened Marks laptop, scanning the messages again, searching for clues. The more she read, the less she understood.
She dialed Emily. After a long ring, the sister answered, voice halfasleep.
Hello, Poppy?
Early, isnt it?
Yeah, I havent slept. Whats up?
Nothing. Just we havent spoken in ages. How are you?
Fine, Claire mumbled. Actually, are you planning to visit us?
A pause stretched.
No, why?
Just wondering. Its been forever.
Im slammed at work. Maybe New Years Ill pop over.
Right.
They chatted about trivialities, then hung up. Emilys denial clashed with the earlier messages where she had promised to be there. Something was being concealed.
The day dragged on, Claires mind a whirl of anxiety. Colleagues asked if she was alright; she brushed it off as a migraine.
Evening came early. She arrived home before Mark, set the table, reheated the conversation shed have with him.
Mark burst in at eight, grinning.
Hey, family! Got Tommys book!
Tommy sprinted, snatching the volume.
Dad, youre a hero!
Is dinner ready? Im starving like a wolf!
They ate in silence. Claire watched Mark joke with Tommy, his smile bright, but inside she felt a furnace.
When Tommy retreated to his room, Claire could no longer hold back.
Mark, we need to talk.
He looked up, fork paused.
About what?
About your messages with Emily.
Marks face turned pale, eyes widening.
What? Which messages?
Dont pretend. I saw them on your laptop.
Claire, I didnt
You were snooping, werent you? You were meeting my sister behind my back!
Mark sprang to his feet, voice shaking.
No, its not what you think!
He tried to explain.
Emily asked for help. Shed lost her job, was broke, embarrassed to tell you. She begged me to look for openings for her here.
Claire stared, disbelief etched.
Why keep it secret?
She feared youd judge, that youd add more pressure on me. She wanted to surprise you with the news of moving closer.
Why would I be against that?
She thought youd say why you need to come here when you have a life already?
Claires mind whirred. She knew she could be controlling, demanding, always probing. Perhaps Emily truly feared her reaction.
Mark, swear theres nothing more.
He took her hand, eyes earnest.
I swear, Poppy. I love only you. Emily is just my sister, and I was helping her like any brother would.
Claire wanted to believe, to cling to that belief. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
I trust you.
They embraced, his familiar aftershave wrapping around her like a warm blanket, while doubts lingered like shadows.
A week later Emily called, voice bright.
Poppy! Im moving in! Got a job! Cant wait!
Really? When?
In a month. Ive already booked a flat near you.
Thats wonderful, Em.
They chatted for twenty minutes, Emily sharing plans, never mentioning Marks assistance.
When Emily finally arrived, the three met at a cosy café. She looked fresh, smiling, hugging Claire tightly.
Poppy, Im so thrilled to be near you! she chirped.
Mark shook her hand, his demeanor friendly, no hint of anything more.
Claire watched, trying to read between the lines, but saw only ordinary family interaction.
Days turned into weeks. Emily settled in, bringing cakes, chatting with Claire while Tommy played. Mark kept his distance, polite and supportive.
One evening Emily knocked, looking distressed.
Poppy, can I crash here? My flat burst, the plumber wont be here till tomorrow.
Of course, come in.
She settled on the sofa, they sipped tea.
Is everything okay with Mark? Emily asked suddenly.
Fine, Claire said. Why?
Hes been a bit down lately, I think works wearing on him.
Maybe you should look after him. Hes a good man.
Claire nodded, unsettled by the sudden question.
Later, in the middle of the night, Claire rose for water. In the hallway she heard a rustle. Peeking into the living room, Emily sat on the couch, phone casting a blue glow.
Sorry, you scared me! Emily whispered.
Its fine, Claire replied, halfasleep.
They chatted about life, loneliness, and the future before Emily drifted off.
Morning came, Emily left early, thanking Claire again. Mark was already at the kitchen table, coffee steaming.
Morning, he said.
Did Emily stay over?
Shes gone.
Claire sipped tea, then asked, Do you have feelings for Emily?
Mark looked up, startled.
What? No! Why would you think that?
Its justsometimes I see the way you look at her.
Weve talked about this. I love you, Claire. Emily is just family.
Claire nodded, accepting his reassurance.
Weeks slipped by. Emilys visits grew rarer, work keeping her busy. Claire felt a strange relief.
One evening, returning from work, Claire spotted Marks car parked outside the building, though he should have still been at the office. She entered, finding Mark and Emily in the hallway, voices low.
I cant do this anymore, Emily murmured.
I know, but we have to be patient, Mark replied.
Claire cleared her throat.
Hey, love! Early day, huh?
Mark forced a smile. Hey, Poppy. Just we were sorting some paperwork.
What paperwork? Claire asked, voice cool.
Just the lease for Emilys new flat. Shes got a problem with the landlord, needed my help.
Emilys eyes flicked to Claire, then back to Mark.
Claire, I
Emily, go home, Claire said sharply. We need to talk, just us.
Emily hesitated, then grabbed her bag and fled.
Claire turned to Mark, heart pounding.
Tell me the truth. Now.
Mark stared at the floor, then lifted his chin.
Emilys been battling depression. She tried to end it back when she lived in Manchester. I was the only one she could call. Ive been supporting her, talking daily, making sure she gets help.
Why didnt you tell me?
She begged me not to. She thought Id add more stress to you, that Id burden you with her problems.
Claire sank onto a chair, the world tilting.
I I had no idea.
Youre not a fool, Claire. You just didnt know.
She grabbed her phone, dialing Emily. No answer. She tried again, silence.
Give her a minute, Mark urged. She needs space.
Claire rose, threw on a coat, and bolted down the stairs, racing to the fourthfloor flat where Emily lived. She banged on the door.
Emily opened after a breath, eyes swollen red.
What do you want?
Emily, Im sorry. I didnt know. Mark told me everything.
Emily collapsed into Claires arms, sobbing.
I was ashamed. I didnt want you to see me broken.
Dont be ashamed. Its an illness, not a flaw.
They sat on the sofa, Emily spilling her story: the darkness, the call to Mark in desperation, his promise to help, the move, the new job that finally gave her hope.
Mark saved me, Claire, Emily whispered.
Claire listened, tears mixing with guilt and relief.
Ill be here for you, she promised.
Emily nodded, clutching Claires hand.
The night faded. Claire returned home before dawn. Mark stood in the kitchen, eyes weary.
How did it go?
Its alright, Claire said, hugging him. Thank you for being there for her.
Its my sister, Mark replied. I couldnt abandon her.
Youre good, Claire murmured, I love you.
And I love you, Mark answered, pulling her close.
The sunrise spilled through the window, bathing the kitchen in soft gold. Claire felt the tangled knot of suspicion loosen, replaced by a quiet understanding. The laptops messages were not betrayal but a lifeline. Mark hadnt strayed; hed been a bridge for a sister in crisis.
She realized the greatest lesson was not to suspect, but to trust; not to judge, but to help; not to tear down, but to rebuild.
She thanked the strange dream that had led her through the fog, grateful for the clarity it finally gave.
