The moment I saw my husband with his mistress in the café, my blood ran coldespecially when my closest friend admitted she was the one who had brought them together.
“Emily, tell me honestly, doesnt this haircut make me look a bit frumpy?” Sarah adjusted her fringe in the salon mirror, frowning at her reflection.
“Dont be ridiculous, darlingits absolutely smashing!” Elizabeth assured her, though there was something artificial in her voice. “Really, it takes years off you.”
Sarah turned away to pay the stylist. The mirror reflected a forty-year-old woman with a fresh, youthful cutyet she felt no joy in it.
“Fancy a coffee?” Elizabeth suggested as they stepped outside. “Theres a lovely new place just round the corner.”
“Alright,” Sarah agreed. “But only quicklyIve still got supper to make.”
They settled by the window. Elizabeth ordered a cappuccino with a slice of Victoria sponge, while Sarah kept it simple with tea.
“Tell me, what does Thomas think of your new look?” Elizabeth asked, stirring her coffee absently.
“Havent the foggiest,” Sarah shrugged. “He barely notices anything I do. Wore a new dress yesterdaydidnt even glance my way.”
“Really?” Elizabeth leaned in, eyebrows raised. “I always thought you two were solid.”
“Well” Sarah hesitated. “Were more like flatmates these days. Hes at the office dawn till dusk, and Im left with the housework. Weekends, hes off fishing or glued to the telly for football. Meanwhile, Im scrubbing floors or visiting Mum.”
“Sarah, when was the last time you two did something together? Theatre? Cinema? Even just a walk?”
Sarah wracked her brain but came up empty.
“Honestly? Cant remember. Probably that birthday do at Lucys three months back. And even then, we barely spoke all evening.”
Elizabeth shook her head sympathetically.
“Oh, love. He used to chase you like a lovesick pup. Remember university? Flowers every day, terrible poetry”
“Ancient history,” Sarah smiled faintly. “Twenty years changes people.”
“Not all of them,” Elizabeth countered. “My Williams still a hopeless romantic. Last week, out of the blue, he bought tickets to the symphony. Said he missed cultural enrichment.”
Sarah studied her friendglowing, well-dressed, content. They were the same age, had known each other since primary school.
“Youre lucky,” Sarah murmured.
“Lucks got nothing to do with it,” Elizabeth said briskly, slicing into her cake. “Its about keeping him on his toes. But youforgive my bluntnessyouve let yourself go.”
Sarah flushed.
“How so?”
“Be honest, darling. Those baggy jumpers, no makeupwhen did you last hit the gym?”
Sarahs cheeks burned. Yes, shed put on a stone over the years. Yes, shed stopped trying as hard. But between the house, her part-time job, the endless chores
“Elizabeth, Im not some society wife prancing about in heels.”
“Its not about heels. Its about being a woman, not a housemaid. Maybe Thomas drifts because he doesnt see a wifejust I dont know, staff.”
Elizabeth trailed off, but the implication hung in the air.
“Right. So this is my fault,” Sarah said quietly.
“Dont fret,” Elizabeth patted her hand. “Plenty of time to turn it round. Gym, new wardrobeyoull see, hell notice.”
Sarah nodded, though her chest ached. Was her marriage crumbling because shed stopped trying?
On the way home, she bought a new lipstick and mascara. That evening, she dressed in her best frock, applied makeup, laid the table properly.
Thomas came in at eight, blinked at the scene.
“Expecting guests?” he asked, washing his hands.
“No. Just fancied a nice dinner.”
“Right.” He sat, dug into his meal. “New haircut?”
“Y-yes. Today. Do you like it?”
He glanced up, gave her a perfunctory once-over.
“Suits you. Shorter.”
That was it. No compliment, no warmth. Sarah swallowed her disappointment.
“Thomas, maybe we could do something this weekend? Its been ages since we went out.”
“Cant. Promised the lads Id help William with his shed.”
“William? Elizabeths husband?”
“Thats the one. Why?”
“No reason.”
She cleared the table while he slumped in front of the telly. Another ordinary evening. No connection, no conversation.
The next day at work, she couldnt focus. Elizabeths words gnawed at her. Maybe she was right? Maybe Thomas didnt see her as a woman anymore?
At lunch, she bought gym gear. That evening, she announced her plans.
“Good for you,” Thomas said mildly. “Keep healthy.”
*Healthy. Not attractive.* Sarah bristled internally.
A month in, the gym showed resultsshed toned up, lost half a stone, moved with new energy.
“Gorgeous!” Elizabeth cooed at their next coffee. “See? I told you. What does Thomas say?”
“Hardly anything. Mentioned I looked well once. Thats all.”
“Odd. Maybe he needs a proper wake-up call?”
“What sort?”
Elizabeth lowered her voice.
“Jealousy. Nothing drasticjust let him see other men fancy you.”
“Elizabeth, Im married!”
“So? Im not saying cheat. Just flirt a little. Make him fear losing you.”
Sarah shook her head. Games werent her style.
That night, the usual routine: supper, telly, silence. Thomas remained politely indifferent.
Then, one evening, Elizabeth phoned, frantic.
“Sarah, can I pop over? Need to talk.”
She arrived half an hour later, dishevelled, furious.
“Williams cheating,” she spat. “Found a note in his coatsome hussy waxing lyrical. Theyre having an affair.”
Sarah gaped. “But you always said he adored you!”
“Lies,” Elizabeth wiped her eyes. “I didnt want to admit we were struggling. I envied your stability.”
Sarah reeled. So Elizabeths perfect marriage was a façade too?
Days passed with Elizabeth oscillating between tearful reconciliation attempts and venomous rants.
Then, disaster.
At the shops, elderly Mrs. Whittaker from next door stopped her.
“Oh, Sarah! Saw your Thomas yesterday with a glamorous womanthought it might be your sister?”
Sarahs stomach lurched. “No sister. Where was this?”
“Near that new café on High Street. He was ever so attentiveholding her arm, laughing. Quite the gentleman.”
Sarah rushed home, heart pounding. Was Thomas cheating too?
That evening, she watched him closely. He came home late, claimed overtime. She didnt press.
The next day, she skipped work, stalked the café. For hours, nothing. Thenthere he was. Arm-in-arm with a stunning woman in a tailored coat. Young. Polished. Laughing at something he said.
Her hands shook as she fled.
That night, Thomas was chipper.
“Long day?” she asked flatly.
“Mad busy.”
She said nothing. What was the point?
The next morning, she called Elizabeth, who arrived in dark glasses, oddly jittery.
“Lets follow him,” she urged.
Reluctantly, Sarah agreed.
They tailed Thomas to the café. The woman appearedsleek, confident.
Elizabeth froze.
“Thats her?” Sarah whispered.
Elizabeth paled. “Yes. Shes a colleague. Marina.”
Something in her tone set off alarms.
Later, at Elizabeths flat, the truth spilled out.
“I introduced them,” she confessed, voice breaking. “Months ago, at a work do. I didnt thinkI tried to stop it, but”
Sarah stood, cold clarity washing over her.
“You knew. And you let me humiliate myself, asking how to fix my marriage.”
“I thought I was helping”
“No. You wanted control. But thank you. Youve shown me exactly what I need to do.”
The next day, Sarah filed for divorce.
Not out of spite.
But because, for the first time in years, she chose herselfwithout lies, without pretence, and without looking back.
