**Diary Entry 12th October**
Bloody hell, people make mistakesthats life.
“Oh, for Gods sake! That Natashas long gone, and youre still chewing my ear off about her. Sarah, give it a rest, will you? Weve got real things to sort outlike what to do about Emma.”
Sarahs eyebrows shot up. For a moment, she just stared, wondering if shed misheard. Any second now, she half-expected David to twist this round and blame *her* for his affair.
“David, youve got the wrong door. My priorities are different now. The only real thing I care about is divorcing you.”
“Divorce? Dont be ridiculous! Christ, we were fine all these yearsalmost a decade! Wed have carried on just fine if you hadnt found out. Whats the bloody difference now?”
“It changes *everything*,” Sarah said, locking eyes with him. “All this time, I was living a lie. And youre standing there acting like its nothing.”
His stubbornness grated as much as the betrayal itself. Shed known David for twenty-five yearsknew how he scowled when criticised, how his lips thinned when upset. But this? This was new. Like she was seeing a stranger.
“What lie? I loved you then, and I love you now. That other thing” He waved a hand. “Ancient history. Might as well not have happened.”
Hard to pretend it hadnt, though, when there was an eight-year-old girl left behind. David now considered it his *sacred duty* to take her in. The alternative? His ageing mum, who could barely look after herself. Foster care was out of the questionno child of his would grow up parentless, he declared, like some chivalrous knight.
Sarah couldnt forgive the cheating. Shed grown up in a family built on trust. Her dad was a homebody; her mum adored travellingwould vanish to Brighton on a whim. Dadd wave her off at the station, grinning, hoisting her bags, never once suspicious. And Mum did the same when he went on work tripskissed him, packed him a tin full of pasties, tucked a tiny cross into his coat pocket.
Sure, they argued. Mum might slam doors; Dad might stew in silence for days. But they never doubted each other. Even when Dad had one too many at the pub, his eyes never left Mumalways pulling her close, bragging about her to anyone listening.
That was Sarahs blueprint. If you love someone, you trust them. And if you dont trust them, whats the point?
Life with David hadnt been bad. Once, theyd been happy. The only strain was children.
“Sarah, whats the rush? Let me get a proper job first, secure our future*then* well think about kids,” hed say, five years in.
“Were not getting any younger. Im thirtyyou too, by the way. Fancy our kid calling us Grandma and Grandpa?” shed grumble.
She waited. But the proper job never came, and her clock was ticking. So she took the leap at thirty-eight, terrified of missing the chance entirely. Now their son was twelve.
David started working up norththree months on, one month home. Hard graft, but good money. Sarah missed him but saw it as an investment in their future.
She didnt know hed been investing elsewhere.
“What did you expect? Three months aloneit was just a bit of comfort. Barely counts,” hed said when the truth came out.
“Comfort?” Sarah snapped. “Funny how I didnt have a queue of blokes at the door. Are we made of different stuff?”
“Women dont need it like men do.”
Maybe they *were* different. To him, it was a slip-uplike scoffing a whole tub of ice cream. To her, it erased every good thing between them.
Shed never have known if not for the accident. If David hadnt strolled in to discuss Emma like he was planning the weekly shop.
“See, David” Sarah dragged herself back to the present. “Its not even about the girl. If you strip it all away, shes just a kid in a bad spot. But *you*? I cant live with you.”
He flapped a hand, irritated.
“Christ, whats got into you? Finewell talk tomorrow. Mornings are wiser.”
Come morning, he brought reinforcements: his mother, Margaret. She had skin in the gameif Sarah refused, Emma became *her* problem. So of course, she piled on the guilt.
“Sarah, lovethink of the girl! Shed be a blessing in your old age. Lads fly the nest, but girls look after their parents. Maybe its a blessing in disguise? Youre past having your own, and heres one ready-made!”
“Margaret, I cant. I wont love her. Ill *see* her, and”
“Oh, rubbish! Youll adjust. Women do it all the timewar widows, stepfamilies, adoptions! Remember *The Railway Children*?”
Sarah exhaled sharply. One thought cheating had a bloody expiry date; the other compared it to a Dickens novel. Meanwhile, Sarah felt like shed sleepwalked through someone elses life.
“Margaret, those people *choose* it. I didnt choose this.”
“But the girls innocent!”
“So am I.”
They talked for hours. No agreement. To Margaret, it was a hiccup. To Sarah, the end.
So that evening, she didnt answer the door. Left Davids bags in the porch, deadbolted it, and turned up the telly. Nerves jangled, but peace was long gone anyway. He hadnt even apologised. Maybe he truly didnt get it.
At seven, keys jangled. Then pounding.
“Sarah, I know youre there! Stop acting like a child!”
“Right. And youre the pinnacle of maturitysiring kids across the Midlands. You wanted a decision? Here it is. Raise your daughter with your mum. Cosy.”
“Dont be daft! People slip up!”
“*I* dont. Take Emma and go. Betrayal doesnt have a bloody best-before date.”
“At least let me say goodbye to Jack!”
“So you can upset him too?” She nearly refusedthen relented. “Fine. But this door stays shut.”
“Twenty-five years, and now Im locked out”
She tuned him out. Jack had been quiet all evening. Hed seen her packing Davids thingsasked nothing. The rows hadnt escaped him. Even a child knew what was coming.
“Jack, loveyour dad wants to say goodbye.”
Jack didnt look up from his maths homework.
“Dont want to.”
“Sure?” She edged closer, bracing for blame*Why couldnt you keep him?*
But
“Yeah. He was my hero. I thought he sacrificed everything for us. Now I dont want to see him, Mum.”
Her throat tightened. She hugged him. His words lifted a weight she hadnt known she was carrying.
“Im sorry I couldnt keep us together.”
“*He* broke us. Not you.” Jack hugged her back. “Im staying with you.”
David spluttered at the rejection, hammered the door a while longer, then left.
The grief still gnawed at herbut underneath, relief surged. Shed drawn the line. Chosen self-respect over a hollow happy family. And realised, thank God, her son was nothing like his father.
**Lesson learnt:** Trust is the foundation. Without it, youre just building a house on sand. And no amount of pretending can shore up the cracks.
