**Nothing Can Be Undone**
It just so happened that Simons life split into two unequal parts: before Emily and after. But now, standing before the locked door of his own home, he realised there was a third part”after the after.” And it was empty.
At thirty-seven, Simon Whitmore was a respected figure in the beauty industry, owned a house and a flat, and hadnt worried about money in years. But none of that had saved his marriage.
Theyd met when he was twenty-two. Charlotte was just seventeenfresh out of school, with timid dreams of university. She was stunning, and hed liked her immediately. But when, a year later, she told him she was pregnant, his first reaction was fear.
“Maybe not yet?” hed asked cautiously, avoiding her gaze. “Youve only just started studying.”
“Ill think about it,” shed murmured.
Turned out, there was nothing to think aboutwhether from inexperience or intent, Charlotte had missed every deadline. Her parents came to meet the father of their grandchild, coolly polite, asking nothing of him. Only as they left did her father mutter through clenched teeth, “Dont worry. Well raise it ourselves.”
Guilt and a dormant sense of duty pushed Simon to propose. He married without joy or excitement, just a vague feeling it was the right thing.
The first years were a struggle. He was still finishing his degree; she stayed home with the baby. When he started working, money was tightgrandparents helped out. Charlotte never complained. Before even graduating, she found part-time work.
“Why?” Simon had asked, baffled. “That money wouldnt even cover mascara! Our daughters only twoshes in nursery or with her grandparents, barely sees her own mother!”
“Then earn more!” she snapped, steel in her voice for the first time. “Get a job at a private clinic!”
“With my experience? They wouldnt take me as a cleaner!” he shot back.
She never asked for anything for herself, but the reproaches piled upSimon didnt help at home, didnt spend time with their daughter, didnt pull his weight financially. The classic struggles of a young family scraping by in London.
After graduation, she got a full-time job and shot up the career ladder. Late nights, business trips, office parties. The house grew empty. Simon, meanwhile, spent more time with their daughter, telling himself, “Its fine. This work frenzy will pass, and things will settle.” They never did. Charlotte seemed to avoid home on purpose.
Once, hugging her as she cooked dinner, Simon whispered,
“Lets have another baby. A son.”
She froze for a second, then gently pulled away.
“Start earning properly first. Then well talk.”
It was during those icy nights that Emily entered his lifeyoung, cheerful, undemanding, an assistant from the next department. She adored him, laughed at his jokes, was easy and warm. She became his escape. He seriously considered leaving, held back only by thoughts of his daughter.
Years later, when Simon was earning well, the unthinkable happened. His wife brought up a second child herself.
“On one condition,” Simon said firmly, confident in his money and position. “Family comes first. Work second. Ill provide.”
Charlotte agreed. She got pregnant almost immediately and transformed. The house smelled of baking again; warmth returned. Simon was relieved, but it didnt stop him from taking Emily to the coast, pretending it was a work trip. She had no idea his wife was pregnanthed told her theyd been sleeping in separate rooms for years.
Then Emily started acting strangetoo much perfume, tears, random jealousy, eyeing his phone.
“How are things at home?” she asked once, feigning indifference.
“Same as always,” he brushed her off.
Then came the visit. His wife came to his officefor the first time everto drop off forgotten documents. Emily saw the bump. The moment the door closed, she exploded.
“You knew! You knew and said nothing!” she shrieked, loud enough for three floors to hear.
“Knew what? Calm down!”
“I messaged your wife! A month ago! I told her everything!”
Simon didnt believe her. Demanded proof. She refused, but he wrestled her phone free. The messages stunned him. Emily had written: *”Simon and I have been in love for ages He deserves real love and warmth Dont stand in our way”*
His wifes reply? Two words: *”Fine, Emily.”*
That was all.
Now he understood Emilys recent moodshed been waiting for a reaction he knew nothing about. Because Charlotte had acted perfectly normal, living with a cheating husband for over a month without a single hint.
Simon was shaken. He ended things with Emily on the spot, suggested she find another jobhed never expected such betrayal. She sobbed, begged forgiveness, but it was over. The man shed loved so blindly wouldnt abandon his family.
That evening, he confessed. Charlotte sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea.
“You knew?” he asked outright, heart pounding.
She looked up, puzzled. “Knew what? About that girl? You were actually with her? I thought it was a scam or she had a crush. Didnt realise it was serious. If it is, youre free to pack your things.”
She asked him to move out. He refused”Were having a baby!”swore it was over with Emily. He stayed in the guest room. Charlotte never brought it up again but never fully reconciled either, speaking to him only when necessary. She gave birth early, with complications. Simon took leave to help, showered her with gifts, devoted all his time to the family. He adored his son.
A year and a half later, he thought the nightmare was overthat shed forgiven him. Then she announced she was going back to work.
“We agreed!” he snapped. “Family first! James is still tinywait till hes three! We have the money!”
“That agreement,” she said coldly, “belonged to the life before Emily.”
Simon faltered. Gave in. She returned to work. A nanny appeared. Life became endless chaos, phone calls, petty fights, brief truces, and false harmony.
Then, last year, he ran into Emily. Memories flooded back; they had coffee. Still single, still sweet and warm. Guilt and foolish pride made him offer her a joba friend needed an assistant. She accepted.
Within a week, they were back where theyd started.
The end came six months later. At a birthday party, Simons drunk friend raved about his new assistant:
“Emilys brillianthardworking, easygoing, a gem! No idea how I managed without her. Cheers, Simon, for recommending her!”
Clueless about their affair, he sang her praises in front of everyoneincluding Charlotte. She smiled, nodded, said nothing. A week later, she handed Simon a stack of printoutsmessages, screenshots, photos.
“Move out,” she said simply. “If you dont, Ill take the children and go.”
He left. Within a week, he knew he wanted nothing more than to return. He brought toys for the kids, huge bouquets for Charlotte. She accepted the gifts for the children with cool politeness; the flowers went in a vase by the door, like a forgotten umbrella.
Once, he found her alone, the children asleep.
“Just tell me what to do to make you forgive me. Ill fix everything. I dont want anyone but you. Emilys gone.”
She looked at him, indifferent.
“You still dont get it, do you? Emily doesnt matter. You broke us years ago, when you asked if I wanted an abortion. Then you married me out of guilt, endured me while I begged to be loved. All these years, I tried to be enoughpretty enough, successful enough, domestic enough. But all you ever wanted, Whitmore, was an easy, warm, undemanding girl. Im tired of trying. Leave.”
He stepped outside, and it hit him. His wife hadnt nursed resentment all these years. Charlotte had simply stopped loving him long ago. Her silence after Emilys message wasnt forgivenessit was a verdict, delivered quietly, without drama. Shed just been waiting for him to read it.
