“He’s not your husband,” said the ex, sliding a hospital photo across the table.
“He’s not your husband,” Emily said, pushing the newborns picture toward Charlotte. “Look at the baby. Look closely.”
Charlotte flinched, nearly dropping her tea. They sat in a quiet café near Covent Garden, the same one where theyd all met years agoher, Emily, and James. Back then, it had been simple: childhood friends, shared memories, no secrets.
“What are you talking about, Em? What baby?” Charlotte fought to keep her voice steady, but it trembled.
“Mine. Jamess.” Emily placed the photo between them. “Born three weeks ago. Want to know why I stayed quiet all these months?”
Charlotte didnt want to touch it, but her fingers moved anyway. A tiny face, scrunched eyes, soft dark hair. Just another newborn, one of thousands. But something in the features made her chest tighten.
“Emily, I dont understand”
“Your precious James strung me along for half a year. Promised to leave you, swore I was the only one he loved. Then vanished when he found out I was pregnant.” Emilys voice was low, bitter. “Stopped answering calls, changed his number. And you had no idea, did you?”
Charlotte set the photo down like it burned. Her throat was dry, words stuck.
“Youre lying. James wouldnt Were trying for a baby, Ive been to the doctor”
“Trying?” Emily smirked. “Did he tell you nothing was planned with me? That it was a mistake, that he only ever loved you? But when it came to responsibility, your perfect husband pretended it never happened.”
Charlotte stood so fast her chair toppled. A few heads turned, but she didnt care. She needed to run, to escape thisthe words, the photo, her collapsing world.
“Where are you going?” Emily called. “Were not done.”
“I have nothing to say to you. If youve got issues with the father, sort it out yourself. James is my husband. I trust him.”
“Trust him?” Emily stood. “Then ask where he was last Valentines Day. Thats when we first Or why my numbers in his phone as Mark the mechanic?”
Charlotte froze in the doorway. Valentines Day. Last year, James had disappeared all afternoonan emergency at work, hed said. Came home late, exhausted, with flowers and apologies. Shed believed him without question.
“You were watching us?”
“I loved him, Charlie. Just like you do now. Maybe more, because he was forbidden. Married. My best friends husband. You know how that excites a man? How reckless he gets when hes risking everything?”
Charlotte turned and stepped into the street. Emily didnt follow. Good. Another second, and she mightve hit her. Or worsebelieved her. Maybe it was all true. Years of friendship, secrets shared, trustjust an act.
At home, James was typing at the kitchen table. He smiled when she entered, kissed her cheek.
“How was your day? Whereve you been?”
“With Emily.” Charlotte watched his face.
James didnt blink. Kept typing.
“Havent seen her in ages. How is she? Still at that salon?”
“She had a baby. A boy.” Charlotte laid the photo beside his laptop.
Now James stopped. His fingers hovered over the keys. His gaze locked on the image. The silence stretchedtoo long for an innocent man.
“And?” he finally said, his voice unsteady.
“She says youre the father.”
James closed the laptop, leaned back. Rubbed his face, exhaled hard.
“Charlie, I can explain”
“So its true?” Her legs gave way; she sank into a chair. “You slept with my best friend?”
“It wasnt like that. Not how shes telling it.”
“Then how, James? How was it?”
He stood, paced the kitchen, stopped by the window, back to her.
“Wed fought, remember? You went to your mums for a week, said you needed space. I was angry, hurt. Emily came roundsaid she wanted to fix things between us, brought wine, comforted me”
“And you let her? In our bed?”
“No!” He turned sharply. “Never our bed. It was her place, one time, a mistake. We were drunk, both of us. By morning, we knew wed messed up. Agreed to forget it.”
“One time?” Charlotte glanced at the photo. “Then again, and again, for six months?”
James lowered his head. The silence said more than words ever could.
“I tried to end it. Swear to God, Charlie, I did. But sheshe knew how to reel me back. Threatened to tell you, cried about loving me. Then she got pregnant.”
“And you ran.”
“I panicked. Dont you see? I love you, our life, our plans. Wanted it all to disappear like a bad dream.”
Charlotte picked up the photo, studied the babys face. Slowly, she saw ithis nose, the shape of his eyes, an expression she knew too well.
“He looks like you,” she whispered.
“Charlie, forgive me. Im an idiot, a bastard, call me whateverbut Ive only ever loved you. It was a weak moment, a lapse”
“Six months of lapses?”
“Ill make it right. Pay child support, acknowledge him, anything. Just dont leave. We wanted kids, a future”
Charlotte stood, stepped close. Searched his eyesregret, fear, pleading.
“You know whats worst, James? Not the affair. Not even that youve got a child with someone else. The worst part? I believed you. Every excuse, every lie. And you looked me in the eye and lied every day.”
“I didnt want to hurt you”
“You didnt want the consequences. Theres a difference.”
She grabbed her bag, turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To Mums. I need to think.”
“For how long?”
“I dont know. Maybe forever.”
James lunged, caught her wrist.
“Charlie, dont throw us away over one mistake!”
“One mistake?” She yanked free. “You have a son, James. A real child wholl grow up without a dad because you call him a mistake.”
“Ill change, I swear! Ill be better”
“And if you dont? If theres another Emily who reels you back? How many more mistakes?”
She left without waiting for an answer. James stayed behind, staring at the photo of a boy who was his.
At her mothers, Charlotte sat until dawn, crying, talking, listening.
“Men are weak, love,” her mother sighed. “But if hes sorry, if hell trymaybe give him a chance?”
“Mum, he has a child. With my best friend! How do I live with that?”
“How do you live without him? You still love him?”
Charlotte said nothing. She did. Despite everything, her heart ached for James, for their shattered plans.
“Emilys no saint either,” her mother muttered. “A friend? Stabbing you in the back like that.”
“Shes right about one thinghe has to take responsibility.”
“He should. But you need to decide: can you share your husband with his past?”
By morning, Charlotte returned home. James hadnt slept. The photo still lay before him.
“Whats his name?” she asked.
“Oliver.” James looked up. “Ive been staring at him all night. He really does look like me.”
“So no doubt then.”
“None. I rang Emily this morning. Were meeting today. I need to see him, talk about everything.”
Charlotte nodded. Sat beside him, took his hand.
“James, I dont know if well ever be what we were
