**Diary Entry A Month of Saturdays**
Three Saturdays in a row, Emily left “for work.” What I saw changed everything.
“Late again?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked. She froze with her bag in hand, turning slowly, as if buying time.
“Yeah, the projects a nightmare. The boss is losing iteveryones panicking.”
“On a Saturday? For the third week?”
“Oliver, dont be childish. Work is work.” She kissed my cheekquick, perfunctory, like youd greet a neighbour. She smelled wrong. Not her usual perfumesomething sweet, milky. I frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Later. Everything later, alright?”
The door slammed. I stood in the hallway, fists clenched. Three Saturdays. Three bloody Saturdays shed left early and come home drained, silent, a stranger.
I couldnt take it anymore. Grabbing the car keys, I followed.
Emily glanced around as she stepped outside. I ducked in the drivers seatthank God Id parked behind a van. She hailed a cab. I started the engine.
We drove for ages. Not to the officeI knew that much. Some suburban estate on the other side of London. My heart pounded. Id see for myself. Everything would make sense.
She got out near a rundown block of flats. I parked further down, tailing her. She disappeared inside. I waited, counting floors from the windows. Third. Left-hand flat.
Nothing for half an hour. Then she reappearedwith a pram.
I nearly stumbled. A baby? We didnt have kids. Wed talked about it, before these Saturdays started
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram, murmuring helplessly. Then her younger sister, Lucy, burst outirresponsible Lucy, whod already been married and divorced twice by twenty-five.
“Em, thanks! Ill be quicktwo hours max!”
“Lucy, you said one!”
“Please, Em! I really need this!”
Lucy dashed off, leaving Emily with the screaming infant. She looked lost, awkward.
I leaned against the wall around the corner. Not an affair. A nephew. But why the lies?
I drove home, needing to beat her back. Needing to think.
At home, I paced. I could just ask. “Emily, where were you?” But shed lieI knew it. Just like Id lied.
Because I had a secret too.
Charlotte. The assistant from the next department. Nothing seriousjust coffees, chats after work, an occasional film. She listened to me ramble about coding, laughed at my jokes, looked at me the way Emily used to. Before our life became “buy bread,” “pay the bills,” “pick up your socks.”
With Charlotte, it was easy. She reminded me of the Emily Id fallen for seven years agobright, carefree, hanging on my every word.
The key turned in the lock. I grabbed the remote, flicked on the telly.
“Hi,” Emily peeked in. “Youve been here all day?”
“Yep. Couldnt be bothered to go out.”
She moved to the kitchen. I heard the tap run, dishes clink. I followed.
She stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Shoulders slumped, shadows under her eyes. A stain on her jeansbaby sick, maybe.
“Em.”
“What?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, surprised.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Lets go out. That Italian place from our anniversary?”
“Oliver, Im shattered. Lets just order pizza?”
I nodded, watching her fumble with her phone. Her hands shook.
“Em, whats going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Youre different. Have been for weeks.”
She froze. The phone clattered onto the table.
“Its just work, Oliver. So much work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! On Saturdays! Stop nagging!”
Her voice broke. I saw tears welling. I hugged her. She stiffened, then melted, face buried in my shoulder.
“Sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably. I rubbed her back, feeling her pulse race.
“Em, if somethings wrong, tell me. Im not a stranger.”
She pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Its fine. Really. Just a rough patch. Itll pass.”
The pizza arrived. We ate in silence. Then she showered, and I stared at my cold slice, thinking.
I couldve said, “Em, I saw you with a pram. Lucys kid?” But then Id admit Id followed her. And shed ask, “Where were you on Fridays?”
What would I say? That Id been sitting in cafés with another woman? Telling her things I no longer told my wife? That Id wondered what if?
My phone buzzed. A text from Charlotte: “Monday? Ill show you that film I mentioned.”
I deleted it. No. Enough.
Emily emerged in a towel, hair damp. She sat beside me.
“Oliver, lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“What about work?”
“Sod work.”
I smiled. When had she last said that?
“Alright. Just us.”
She took my hand. Her fingers were cold, despite the shower.
“We lost something, didnt we?”
“What?”
“Us. We lost us.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Well find it.”
Morning came late. Emily made pancakesfirst time in a year. I brewed coffee, sliced fruit. We ate on the balcony, chilly but content.
“Remember breakfast in Prague?” she said. “On that tiny terrace?”
“Where you nearly dropped a cup on someones head?”
“I did not! It was a near miss!”
We laughed. How long since wed laughed together?
The day passed strangely, like playing newlyweds. We binged a series curled on the sofa, cooked togetherI chopped, she stirred. No talk of work or money. Just the moment.
That night, she fell asleep on my shoulder. I studied her facerelaxed, young again. The frown line gone. She looked like the girl whod spilled coffee on me seven years ago. “Sorry! Let me pay for dry cleaning! Oror Ill buy you another coffee?”
Id bought her one instead. Then another. Then dinner. Then a ring.
She murmured in her sleep. I tucked the blanket around her.
On Monday, I went to Charlotte.
“Hi! Thought youd forgotten about the film”
“Charlotte, we need to talk.”
Her face fell. Smart girlshe knew.
“Your wife?”
“Yes. No. I mean I cant do this.”
“Oliver, nothing even happened.”
“Exactly. And it wont. Im sorry.”
She nodded, turning to her screen.
“Go. Just go.”
I left. Heavy-hearted but lighter. It was right. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note on the fridge: “Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”
I heated it, set the table. She arrived on time but jittery.
“Oliver, I need to tell you something.”
I braced myself. Here it comes.
“Lucy has a son. Four months old. The father left when he found out. Shes aloneno job, no money. Ive been helping. Watching him while she interviews. Or just to give her a break. Im sorry I lied. I thought youd hate it.”
“Why would I?”
“Well we want kids. And here I am, looking after someone elses. And Ive lent her money. From my salary,” she added quickly.
I hugged her.
“Silly girl. Of course you should help. Shes family.”
She sobbed into my chest.
“Im so tired of lying. Making up where I go.”
“No more lies.”
I thought of Charlotte. Of my own dishonesty. But this was different. It had been nothing. Just talk. Just
“Oliver, do you have secrets?”
My heart skipped.
“No. Well Em, sometimes I wasnt at work. Id go to the pub with colleagues. Just for a pint, a chat. Home felt bleak.”
Not the full truth. But not a lie. Charlotte had been there. Sometimes.
“Bleak,” Emily echoed. “Yeah. I get that.”
We held each other in the kitchen. Then ate, talking properlyabout her nephew, Toby. About Lucys new job at a shop. About visiting them properly.
“Actually,” I said suddenly, “lets have one of our own.”
Her head snapped up.
“You mean it?”
“Absolutely. No more waiting for perfect.”
“But weve drifted so far.”
“Then well drift back. Em, I love you
