“Where did you get my earrings?” asked Emily, spotting them in a photo on her friends social media.
“Em, come look at these pictures Sarah sent from her holiday!” called David from the kitchen, stirring sugar into his tea. “Shes tanned like a biscuit!”
Emily wiped her hands on her apron and walked over, where David was scrolling through his phone, sipping his steaming brew.
“Show me,” she said, adjusting her dressing gown before sitting beside him. “Where did they go, Spain?”
“Egypt, she said. Lookheres the beach, and this ones from a restaurant…” David flicked through the photos, commenting on each. “Oh, this ones lovely! They went on a tour…”
Emily studied the images in silence, nodding. Sarah had always known how to present herselfeven back in secondary school, shed been the life of every party. Theyd lost touch after uni, then bumped into each other at the GPs surgery years later, exchanging occasional calls since.
“Oh, I like this one,” David paused on a shot of Sarah smiling at a café table, the sunlight catching her face just right.
Emily glanced at the screen, and her stomach turned to ice. There, glinting in Sarahs ears, were familiar gold rose studs with tiny pearlsthe very pair David had given her for their twentieth anniversary.
“Why is she wearing my earrings?” Emily asked softly, staring at the phone.
“What?” David looked up, confused.
“The earrings. Rosebuds with pearls. You bought them for me, remember?” Her voice trembled.
David squinted at the photo, frowning. “Come off it, Em. Theyre probably just similar. You can find those anywhere.”
“No. Theyre the same.” Emily took the phone, zooming in. “Lookhere, on the left rose, theres a tiny scratch. I caught it on the wardrobe door last Christmas.”
David sipped his tea wordlessly. Emilys pulse thudded in her ears.
“David. Where are my earrings?”
“How should I know? Youre the one who keeps track of your jewellery,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Emily stood and marched to the bedroom, yanking open her jewellery box on the dressing table. She sifted through bracelets and necklaces. The earrings were gone. She checked every drawer, peered under the table, even searched the bathroom. Nothing.
“David!” she called.
“What now?” he grumbled from the living room.
“Theyre not here. Theyre gone.”
“Maybe you left them somewhere? Lost them on holiday?”
“What holiday? Last summer, we visited your mum in DevonI didnt take them. And this year, we havent gone anywhere!”
David wandered in, flicking on the telly.
“Dunno, love. Maybe you took them for repairs?”
“Why would I? They were practically new.” Emily crossed her arms, blocking the doorway. “David. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the screen.
“What?”
“Do you know where my earrings are?”
“No. Dont be daft.” He turned back to the telly.
Emily returned to the kitchen, slumping into a chair. Her mind raced. The earrings had vanishedand now Sarah had them. A coincidence? But they were custom-made. She remembered David spending ages choosing them at that little boutique in London.
She grabbed her phone, opened her contacts, and typed a message to Sarah:
“Sarah, hi! Just saw your holiday picslooks amazing! Those rose earrings are gorgeous. Whered you get them?”
The reply came swiftly: “Thanks, Em! A gift from someone special. Wanted a pair like this for ages.”
“Mind sharing where theyre from? Might treat myself!”
“No idea, didnt pick them myself. Why? Thought David was tight with gifts, the way youve moaned about him!”
Emily set the phone down. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure the neighbours could hear. She stood, pacing to the window, trying to steady herself. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was nothing.
“Em, whats for dinner?” David called from the living room.
“Sort yourself out,” she replied, not turning around.
“Whats got into you? Throwing a tantrum over some bloody earrings.”
“Some bloody earrings,” she echoed. “Our anniversary gift. Twenty years together.”
“So what? Lost earrings are lost. Ill buy new ones.”
“Thats not the point, David.”
She turned to face him. He lounged in his armchair, flicking through channels.
“Then what is?”
“The point is, Sarah has them.”
“So? Let her have them. Who cares?”
“David. Did you give them to her?”
A long pause. The TV droned onsome detective drama with too much shouting.
“Dont be ridiculous.”
“Then how did she get them?”
“How should I know? Maybe she bought her own?”
Emily stepped closer, planting herself in front of his chair.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you didnt give Sarah my earrings.”
David met her gazethen looked away instantly.
“Em, enough. Turning this into some bloody inquisition.”
“So you did.”
“I didnt.” His voice sharpened.
Emily sat opposite him on the sofa.
“Twenty years, David. Ive trusted you. If somethings going on, just say it.”
“Nothings going on!” He leapt up. “Youre off your rocker! See one photo and lose the plot.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
“Because youre bloody relentless! Work all day, come home to this!”
He stormed to the kitchen, slamming the door. Emily stayed put, staring blankly. Twenty years of marriage. Their daughter Lily married and living in London. Their son James at uni, visiting weekends.
She thought of last yearDavid suddenly working late, preening in the mirror before leaving, buying a new shirt. Shed chalked it up to a midlife crisis.
Then the distance. Fewer hugs, less talk of holidays or retirement. Shed blamed work stresshis senior role at the construction firm was demanding.
Pots clattered in the kitchen. David was washing his mug, banging it down hard.
Emily picked up her phone, reopening Sarahs photos. She scrutinised each oneSarah on the beach, at a restaurant, by the pyramids. Always those earrings.
She zoomed in. Sarah glowed, tanned and polished, nails done, hair sleek. The holiday of a lifetime.
“Whod you go with? Just you and a mate?” she typed.
No reply for ages. Then: “Went with a friend. Listen, busychat later?”
Emily knew Sarah was lying. She had no close friends to holiday withtheyd discussed it once, Sarah complaining how lonely shed been since her divorce.
Three years divorced. Ex-husband ran off with a younger colleague, left her with a mortgage and debts. She worked reception at a private clinichardly Egypt money.
“Em, popping to the garage,” David called from the hall.
“Fine,” she muttered.
The front door slammed. Emily watched through the window as David crossed the drive, lighting a cigarette. Hed quit five years agobut lately, shed caught whiffs of tobacco on his coats.
She reopened Sarahs socials, scrolling further back. Café shots, theatre trips, countryside walks. One photo caught her eyea familiar navy jacket with fur trim. Just like Davids. But the woman wearing it wasnt Sarahtall, dark-haired, unfamiliar.
Emily squinted. No, not his. Just similar. She checked his closetthe jacket hung there. But his light-blue shirt, the expensive one from last Christmas, was missing.
“David back yet?” a voice asked.
She turned. James stood in the doorway, rucksack slung over one shoulder.
“James! Love, youre early. Dads in the garage.”
He dropped his bag, hugging her.
“Mum, you okay? You look pale.”
“Just tired. Uni alright?”
“Yeah. Butwhats up here? Dads been weird. Heard him on the phone last night. Talking all… soft. Miss you, darlingthat sort of thing. Thought it was you, but you were at work.”
Emily sat on the bed. James joined her, taking her hand.
“Mum… is Dad seeing someone?”
“I dont know, love. I really dont.”
“You suspected?”
“No. Well… hes been distant.”
James squeezed her shoulder.
“Talk to him. Properly.”
“He denies everything.”
“So what tipped you off?”
She showed him the earrings, Sarahs photos. James studied them, frowning.
“Mum, could it just be a coincidence? Lookalike earrings?”
“James, I wore them every day. Id know.”
“Then well sort it. You cant live like this.”
The front door opened.
“
