For three Saturdays in a row, Emily had left the house claiming to be “working late.” What Mark discovered turned everything upside down.
“Running late again?” Mark tried to keep his voice steady, but it trembled.
Emily paused with her hand on the door, turning slowly as if buying time. “Yeah, the projects a mess. The boss is losing iteveryones scrambling.”
“On a Saturday? For the third week?”
“Oh, come on, Mark. Work is work.”
She kissed his cheekquick, impersonal, like a neighbour in a lift. The scent on her wasnt her usual perfume. Something sweet, milky. He frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Later. Everything later, alright?”
The door slammed. Mark stood in the hallway, fists clenched. Three Saturdays. Three damn Saturdays shed left early, returning exhausted, silent, a stranger.
He couldnt take it anymore. Grabbing his car keys, he followed.
Emily glanced around as she stepped outside. Mark ducked in his carparked conveniently behind a van. She hailed a taxi. He started the engine.
They drove for ages. Not towards her officehe knew that much. A residential area on the other side of London. His heart pounded. Hed see for himself now.
She got out near a tired-looking block of flats. Mark parked down the street, trailing her. She disappeared inside. He counted floorsthird, left window.
Nothing happened for half an hour. Then Emily reappeared.
With a pram.
Mark nearly stumbled. A baby? They didnt have children. Theyd talked about it, but not yetnot before these Saturdays started.
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram awkwardly, murmuring. Then her younger sister, Lucy, rushed outirresponsible Lucy, whod married and divorced twice by twenty-five.
“Em, thank you! Ill be quicktwo hours max!”
“You said one!”
“Please! I really need this!”
Lucy dashed off, leaving Emily with the screaming infant.
Mark exhaled. Not an affair. A nephew. But why the secrecy?
He drove home, needing to beat her back. Needing to think.
Pacing their flat, he considered just asking: “Where were you?” But shed liehe knew it. Just as hed been lying.
Because he had a secret too.
Sarah. The receptionist from the next department. Nothing seriousjust coffees, chats, the occasional film. She laughed at his jokes, listened to his rants about coding. Like Emily used to, before their lives became bills and chores.
With Sarah, it was easy. She reminded him of the Emily hed fallen for seven years ago.
Keys jingled. Mark grabbed the remote, flicking on the telly.
“Hi,” Emily peeked in. “Youve been here all day?”
“Yep. Couldnt be bothered to go out.”
She moved to the kitchen. He heard running water, clinking dishes.
Emily stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Dark circles under her eyes. A stain on her jeansbaby formula?
“Em.”
“Yeah?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, surprised. “I am.”
“Lets go out. That Italian place from our anniversary?”
“Mark, Im shattered. Lets just order pizza?”
He nodded. Watched her fumble with her phone. Hands shaking.
“Em, whats going on?”
“What?”
“Youve been different. For weeks.”
She froze. The phone slipped onto the table.
“Its just work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! Stop interrogating me!”
Her voice cracked. He pulled her close. She stiffened, then sagged against him.
“Im sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably.
“Tell me whats wrong,” he whispered.
“Nothing. Just a rough patch.”
Pizza arrived. They ate in silence. Emily showered; Mark stared at his cold slice.
He could confess: “I saw you with a pram. Lucys kid?” But then hed admit hed followed her. And shed ask: “Where were you on Fridays?”
What would he say? That hed sat in cafés with another woman? That hed shared things with her he no longer shared with his wife?
His phone buzzed. Sarah: “Monday? Ill show you that film.”
He deleted it. Enough.
Emily emerged in a towel, hair damp. “Lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“Work?”
“Sod work.”
He smiled. When had she last said that?
“We lost us, didnt we?” she murmured.
He squeezed her hand. “Well find us again.”
Morning came lazily. Emily made pancakesfirst time in a year. They ate on the balcony, shivering but happy.
“Remember breakfast in Edinburgh?” she said.
“Where you nearly dropped your tea on that tourist?”
“I did not!”
They laughed. God, how long had it been?
The day unfolded softly. Like newlyweds. Cooking together, curled on the sofa. No talk of work, money, plans. Just now.
She fell asleep against him. He studied her faceyoung again, peaceful. The woman whod spilled coffee on him seven years ago. “Let me buy you another!”
Hed bought her one. Then dinner. Then a ring.
Monday arrived. He found Sarah.
“Hi! Thought youd forgotten”
“We need to talk.”
Her face fell. “Your wife?”
“Yes. No. I cant do this.”
“Weve not even”
“Exactly. And we wont. Im sorry.”
She turned away. “Go.”
Leaving, his chest ached and lightened. Right. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note: “Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”
He set the table. She returned, tense.
“Mark, I need to tell you something.”
His pulse spiked. Now.
“Lucys got a son. Four months. His dad left. Shes strugglingno job, no money. Ive been helping. Watching him while she interviews. Or just breathes. Im sorry I lied.”
“Why would I mind?”
“We want kids, and Im looking after hers. And Ive given her moneymy wages.”
He hugged her. “You daft thing. Of course you help her.”
She cried into his chest. “Im so tired of lying.”
“Then stop.”
He thought of Sarah. But thisthis was different. Wasnt it?
“Mark? Any secrets?”
His heart stuttered.
“Not really. Sometimes I wasnt working late. Just at the pub with mates. Home felt lonely.”
Not the whole truth. Not quite a lie.
“Lonely,” she echoed. “Yeah.”
They held each other. Over dinner, they talked properlyabout little Alfie, about Lucys new job, about visiting properly.
“Lets have one,” he blurted.
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. No more waiting.”
“But weve been so distant.”
“Well fix it. Em, I love you. The girl who spilled coffee. The woman with a nephew. All of you.”
She laughed through tears. “Nephew! Youre an uncle!”
“Uncle and aunt. Then mum and dad.”
That night, they didnt just share a bed. He held her, breathing in her shampoocamomile, like the beginning.
Morning rushed in. Emily left earlyAlfie duty. Mark kissed her properly at the door.
“Love you.”
“You too.”
On the table, a thermos: “Coffee. Save your pennies. Love, E.”
He grinned. Small things.
At work, Sarah avoided him. Good. Clean slate.
Evening came. Grocery shoppinglike a normal couple.
“Wine?” she asked.
“Red?”
“White. For the salmon.”
“Salmon?”
“Wait and see.”
Dinner was slightly dry. They didnt care.
“Thought you had someone,” she admitted later.
“What?”
“Youd been distant. Polite. I figurednew girl.”
“Em”
“Dont. Ive been worse. Secrets, lies. Weve been idiots.”
“Fixable idiots.”
They clinked glasses.
A month passed. Then another. Emily became Alfies godmother. Mark joined sometimesloud lad, but sweet.
Lucy found steady work. The lies stopped.
No more late Fridays. Just home. Cooking disasters. Laughter.
Then, one evening, Emily stepped from the bathroom, holding a stick.
“Mark”
Two lines.
He spun her, laughing. “Careful! Theres two of you now!”
“Three!”
Later, she whispered, “Well manage?”
“Course. We
