28April2025 Diary
I never thought Id be the sort of man who writes down his own embarrassments, but today the truth is too heavy to keep hidden. My wife, Emma, is a whirlwind of hurried mornings, shoes squeaking down the culdesacs of our council estate in Birmingham, and a neverending list of chores. Shes always in joggers and a faded sweatshirt, as if ironing a shirt were a crime punishable by life. The dryer I bought last year smooths out the laundry so well that I rarely need a iron, and yet Emma still mutters about the proper way to press a blouse.
The other woman, Claire Bennett, could walk out of a fashion magazine. She has the posture of a runway model, legs that seem to stride over clouds, hair that catches the light, eyes that lock you in without a word. I first saw her by accident on a work trip to Bristol. I ducked into a cramped café on the high street to grab a bite between meetings. The place was packed, but a corner table was free. I glanced up from the menu and, as if by reflex, recognized a familiar silhouette from behindEmmas husband, my own. And there, perched opposite him, was Claire, her fingers cradled in his palm as he kissed each one tenderly. The scene felt like a cheap romance novel, but the smell of the coffee and the clink of cutlery made it brutally real.
I ordered a soup and a salad, ate them without tasting, and sat there waiting for the pair to leave, hoping theyd never notice my stare. My heart thudded like a distant drum, the kind of pain that sits on the skin after a burnaware that the flare would soon flare up, yet numb inside. When they finally stood, my husbands smile was the same easy grin he always wears, the kind that never betrays a flicker of guilt. Emma, meanwhile, kept her composure, as if nothing had shifted.
Later that evening, back at home, I lay beside Emma in the bedroom. She pulled me close, her arms a familiar anchor, and we fell asleep with the television murmuring in the background. I wondered whether wed ever share a proper night together now. The thought lingered, halfformed, like a melody you cant quite place. I drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming of bright roses and strangers in scarlet dresses.
Morning came with its usual rush: I shuffled the kids to school, brewed a pot of tea, and tried to keep normalcy. Yet the question gnawed at mewhat does a man do when he discovers his wifes lover? Google offered no answers, and my own mind was empty. I decided to confront the situation headon. I called my work number at noon, but the line went straight to voicemail. I hijacked a taxi, telling the driver I was waiting for a parcel, and drove back to the same Bristol café. The car that belonged to the man Id seen was parked opposite the entrance. Emma and Claire stepped out together, slipped into the vehicle, and drove off. I stood there, feeling the cold wind bite, and shouted into the empty air, Enough! I cant wait any longer!
The absurdity of it all made me realize that the presence of a lover doesnt magically rewrite the script of a marriage. It merely shines a harsh light on whats already theredeception, complacency, and the fragile threads we cling to. My husbandwell, Ionce boasted that Id never lie, that honesty was my creed. I see now that a promise is only as strong as the courage to keep it.
Lesson learned: a relationship built on truth may be uncomfortable, but it is the only foundation sturdy enough to weather any storm.
