Dear Diary,
I cant answer his calls right now the doctor says I must stay under strict observation. He promised hell be home soon, but for the moment Im stuck in this limbo.
This morning eightyearold Poppy was at the kitchen table, spooning porridge into her mouth, when she blurted out, Mum says Daddys in hospital, but I saw him at Aunt Sophies house. I tried to keep my voice steady, but my own heart leapt.
Grandma Grace barely managed not to spill her tea. Shed driven up for the weekend to help with the house while I pretended my husband, James, was recovering from an appendicitis operation. In truth, James has been staying with Aunt Sophie for weeks now, and Ive been covering for him.
What did you say, love? Grace asked, eyes searching mine.
Did I say something wrong? Poppy replied, puzzled. Dad lives with Aunt Sophie. Mum showed me their pictures on her phone theyre cooking together, laughing.
Graces hand went cold around her teacup. Just then my daughter Elena emerged from the bathroom in a damp robe, hair still wet.
Mum, why do you look so pale? she asked, noticing my pallor.
Ellie, we need to talk, I whispered, nodding toward the childrens room.
Poppy, go watch your cartoons, Elena told her daughter. I havent finished my porridge yet!
Finish it later, she replied. Come on, love.
When Poppy darted away, I turned back to Elena, eyes heavy with dread.
Explain whats happening, I said, trying not to sound accusatory.
She sat down, avoiding my gaze. What do you mean?
The fact that James isnt in the hospital, but staying with Aunt Sophie. And you keep covering for him, protecting his betrayal.
Ellies silence was louder than any argument. I pinched the skin beside my left eye, a habit when Im angry. Ellie, Ive known you for twentyeight years. When you lie, your left eye twitches. See?
She winced. Mum, you dont understand
Then tell me! Why does my own daughter shield a cheating husband? Why do you lie to me and to our child?
Ellies tears fell unchecked. Because Im scared of losing him!
I pulled her into a hug, rubbing her hair. Our familys story has been tangled from the start. James and I met at university I was a literature student, he a law student. Both from modest backgrounds, we shared a cramped dorm flat.
I was always the quiet, homebound type, not the one who turned heads in school. James, on the other hand, was the campus heartthrob: tall, handsome, captain of the debate team. When he showed interest in me, my friends were stunned.
Ellie, what magic did you use? theyd tease. How did you snag that stud?
Even I had to believe it was some sort of trick. James brought flowers, took me to the cinema, introduced me to his friends. I waited for the moment hed get bored and move on, but he never did. He loved my modesty, my kindness, my ability to listen. With him I felt safe, as if the world could not touch us.
After graduation we married. James landed a job at a respectable law firm, I became a primary school teacher. A year later Poppy arrived, and for a while everything felt perfect. James career surged, I raised our daughter, and we dreamed of buying a flat of our own.
Then things shifted. James stayed later at the office, claiming new clients and prospects. I brushed it off, proud of his progress. Six months ago his travel schedule increased, he got a promotion and a new car. He was often absent, and when he was home he seemed distant, exhausted, and constantly spoke of stress.
James, why dont we take a short break together? Maybe a weekend by the sea? I suggested.
Cant now, love. Its a busy period. Ill manage, he said, promising a break that never came. Weeks turned into months. He stopped sleeping over, citing business trips and nighttime negotiations. My suspicions grew, but I tried to silence them.
Then, a month ago, I walked into his study and saw a message thread on his phone with a woman named Sophie. The words were unmistakable an affair, not a business partnership. My first impulse was to shout, throw his things out, file for divorce. But then I thought of Poppy, of losing my job after quitting teaching when she was born, of the small pension Id have to survive on.
So I chose the quieter route: I pretended ignorance.
James, who is Sophie? I asked as calmly as possible, pointing to the name on the screen.
Its a new client, handling some paperwork, he replied.
I nodded, believingor pretending to believehim.
When James later claimed he needed surgery for appendicitis, I didnt feel surprised. I already knew he was renting a flat with Sophie, living as a family. Yet I kept up the façade of a caring wife.
Grace, ever the observant matriarch, pressed for answers. Tell me the whole story from the start, she urged.
I recounted the messages, the midnight business trips, the flat for Sophie. She listened, shaking her head occasionally.
How long will you keep putting up with this? she asked finally.
I dont know. Maybe hell realise his mistake. Perhaps its a midlife crisis, I muttered weakly.
James is only twentynine. What crisis could he possibly have? Grace scoffed.
I love him, Mum. And Poppy needs a father, I whispered, tears welling.
The child will understand sooner than you think, Grace said, her voice softening. She already sees through the lies. Children arent dumb; they pick up on the truth.
That night, after Poppy fell asleep, my phone rang. A male voice James sounded cheerful.
Hi, I said, forcing a normal tone.
Hey, hows the recovery? Can I visit?
Doctors say I need another week, I replied, hearing faint laughter and music behind him. It was clear he was not in a ward.
Maybe we can see each other soon? Poppy misses you, he said.
I cant right now. Strict regimen, I answered, feeling my resolve crumble.
He hung up, and I sat at the kitchen table, shaking. Grace placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
Did he call? she asked.
Just talked about the strict regime. There was music, a womans laugh, I said, voice trembling.
Ellie Grace began.
I know Im a terrible mother, I confessed. Ive let him keep deceiving us.
The next morning, after Grace left, Poppy approached me with the seriousness of a sixyearold detective.
Mum, when will Daddy come back from the hospital? she asked.
I looked into her earnest eyes. Sit down, love. Theres something I need to tell you.
You mean hes not in the hospital? she probed.
Yes, I said, surprised at how quickly shed pieced it together. I saw pictures of him with Aunt Sophie. Hes staying with her, not in a ward.
What do you think about that? she asked, shrugging.
He probably doesnt love us any more, she said. He loves Aunt Sophie.
My heart clenched. I pulled her close. Adults make mistakes, darling. Dads still a person and can err.
Then why did you say he was in the hospital? she pressed.
I hoped hed realise his mistake and come home, I whispered.
What if he doesnt? she asked.
I dont know, sweetheart. I dont know. She fell silent, then said, Mum, why dont we just live without him? Just you and me. That would be fine.
I realized my little girl had already decided for us. It was time to stop pretending.
You know what, Poppy? Youre right. Lets make a life together, I said, feeling a strange relief. Can we move in with Grandma? She said shed take us in.
Yes, if we have to live in a tiny flat, she replied brightly. Just no more crying at night, please.
Did you hear me crying? she asked.
Of course, Im not deaf or blind, I said, smiling despite the tears.
Lets promise not to lie to each other any more, she said.
Well promise, I agreed, hugging her tightly.
That evening I texted James: We need to meet and sort everything out. Poppy knows about Aunt Sophie. He replied within an hour: How does she know? What did you tell her? I answered, Children arent blind. Come tomorrow, well talk.
He arrived the next day looking guilty and uneasy. Poppys face lit up at the sight of her dad, but she kept a polite distance.
Daddy, are you still sick? she asked.
No, love, he replied, smiling.
Then why did Mum say you were in hospital? Youre staying with Aunt Sophie, he stammered, clearly caught off guard.
I asked him to step into the hallway while Poppy went to her room. Sitting opposite him, I said, James, what are we going to do now?
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. Just tell me straight do you want to keep this family together or not?
He was silent. I sighed. Fine. Lets sort out Poppys future child support, birthdays, everything. He tried to protest, but I was already firm.
Youve been living with another woman, Ive covered for you, Ive lied to my own mother. Enough! I declared.
He admitted he hadnt planned for this, but the situation was real. I dont want a divorce, he said finally.
What do you want then? For me to keep covering your infidelities? To keep lying to our child? I snapped. Give me a week to think.
He hesitated, then agreed. A week later he called, asking to meet at a café, without Poppy. He said, Ive decided. I want to try to rebuild our family.
What about Sophie? I asked.
Its over, he replied.
Then Ill give you one chance. No more secrets. If you cheat again, its over forever, I warned. Well also see a family counsellor, together.
He nodded. Agreed.
I told Poppy about the conversation. Dad says he wants to come home and wont live with Aunt Sophie any longer, I said.
Do you believe him? she asked seriously.
I want to, I answered. What about you?
I also want to believe. But if he lies again, well go to Grandmas. Deal?
Deal, I smiled, amazed at her wisdom.
The next day James came home with flowers for me and a new doll for Poppy. We sat down to dinner as a proper family. Poppy asked, Dad, you wont be staying with Aunt Sophie any more, right?
No, love, Ill be with you, he promised.
Will Mum still say youre in the hospital? Poppy asked.
No, I wont, I said, feeling a strange peace settle over us.
We laughed, ate, and for the first time in months I felt genuine hope. I know trust will have to be rebuilt, but Im determined never to lie to myself, to my daughter, or to anyone again.
As I lay down later, I think about how strange adults are we make everything so complicated when the truth could be spoken plainly. At least now, Daddy is truly home, and we no longer have to pretend we dont know where he really lives.
