“I hope you’re ready for life without him,” said her friend, then drove off to see my husband.
“Did you see the queue at the doctor’s today?” Emily shook raindrops off her umbrella and hung her coat on the hook by the door. “Three hours just to get seen.”
“Come in, come in,” Natalie put the kettle on and pulled a biscuit tin from the cupboard. “What did the doctor say?”
“Oh, nothing new. Blood pressures all over the placegot to take tablets regularly now. Not much to joke about at our age, Nat.”
The two had known each other for over thirty years, meeting in the neighbourhood when they were pushing prams. Their sons grew up together, same nursery, same school. The families were closebirthdays, holidays, trips to the countryside.
“Something odd happened yesterday,” Natalie set two mugs on the table and sat opposite her friend. “I was coming back from the shops when I saw Simon. Arm in arm with some young woman. Spotted them from a distancehe didnt notice me.”
Emilys eyebrows shot up.
“Maybe a colleague? Work thing?”
“On a Sunday? And they werent exactly keeping it professional, lets just say. Laughing, her practically glued to him. Thought I was seeing things at first.”
“And then?”
“Then I got a proper look. Definitely my Simon. Wearing that new jacket I got him for his birthday.”
Emily poured the tea, stirring absentmindedly.
“Natalie, have you thought maybe somethings off between you two? Hes been different lately.”
“Different how?”
“Dunno. Used to come along with usbarbecues, weekends away. Now its always work or too tired or some excuse.”
Natalie frowned. She wasnt wrong. Simon *had* been distanteither buried at home or vanishing on mysterious errands.
“Maybe its his age?” she offered weakly. “Hell be fifty-five soon.”
“Or the oppositemidlife crisis,” Emily said carefully. “You know how men get. Panic about getting old, start doing daft things.”
Natalie set her cup down with a clink.
“Whatre you getting at, Em?”
“Nothing specific. Just thinking aloud.”
But Natalie knew that tone. Emily was holding something back. There was a flicker in her eyesfamiliar, but she couldnt place it.
“At least Daniels grown now, living his own life,” Emily continued. “Imagine the mess if Dad suddenly walked out.”
“Emily!” Natalie slammed her mug down. “Whatre you on about? Walked out? Were talking about Simon *maybe* chatting up some womancouldve been asking for directions!”
“Course, course,” Emily backtracked. “Not saying anythings definite. Just musing.”
They finished their tea, moved on to supermarket prices, the weather, the neighbours. As Emily left, she turned at the door.
“Natalie, did you mention that little run-in to Simon?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“No reason. Just curious what hed say.”
After she left, Natalie paced the flat, restless. Emilys words stuck like a splinter. Was Simon *really* having an affair?
He came home for dinner as usual. Kissed her cheek, washed up, sat down. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“How was your day?” he asked, helping himself to potatoes.
“Fine. Emily popped rounddoctor stuff.”
“Oh? Whats up with her?”
“Blood pressure. More pills.”
Simon nodded, focused on his plate. Natalie watched him, weighing whether to ask about yesterday. Part of her wanted clarity. The other part feared the answer.
“Simon, where were you yesterday?” she finally asked.
“Yesterday?” He looked up. “Just shopping. Needed new shoes.”
“And after?”
“Went home. Why?”
“No reason. Saw you near the shopping centre.”
Simon didnt flinch.
“Yeah, thats where I was. No decent shoes thoughall rubbish.”
“Who were you with?”
“With? Just me.”
She studied his face. Was he really lying so calmly? Or had she mistaken someone else for him?
That night, she barely slept. Tossing, listening to Simons steady breathing. Same as always.
Next morning, he left early”big meeting.” She was tidying up when Emily called.
“Natalie, can I swing by? Need to talk.”
“Sure, come over.”
Emily arrived in minutes, flustered, clutching papers.
“Sit, Ill make tea,” Natalie offered.
“Dont bother. Sit downthis is serious.”
Natalies stomach dropped. That tone never meant good news.
“Look, this is hard,” Emily crumpled the papers. “But as your friend, I have to tell you. Simons having an affair.”
The room tilted.
“How dyou know?”
“Lisaremember her? Works at Simons firm. Saw them together loads. Him and some new receptionist.”
“A *receptionist*?”
“Yep. Twenty-five, blonde. Lisa says the whole office knowsjust youre in the dark.”
Emily shoved printed photos at her. Simon, unmistakable, grinning beside a pretty young woman. Arms wrapped, kissing.
“Whered you get these?” Natalie whispered.
“Lisa took them. Wanted you to knowasked me to tell you.”
Natalie stared. Twenty-eight years of marriage, and here he was, kissing someone else.
“What do I *do*?”
“Up to you, Nat. But I couldnt keep it from you.”
Emily stood, pacing to the window.
“Maybe its for the best? Fresh start. Youre still gorgeousfind someone better.”
“*Best*? Were *family*! Weve got a son, a house, a *life*!”
“What kind of family cheats?” Emily spun around. “Wake up! If he loved you, he wouldnt be messing about with some girl!”
There was something off in her voice. Too intense. Too invested.
“Emily, why dyou care *so* much?”
“Because youre my *best friend*! It *kills* me seeing you fooled!”
But it rang false. Natalie noticed things shed missednew haircut, fresh manicure, a blouse Emily couldnt afford.
“Nice top,” she said. “New?”
Emily glanced down.
“Ohyeah. Sale yesterday.”
“Expensive?”
“Not bad. Eighty quid.”
Eighty quid was steep for Emily, a shop assistant always moaning about bills.
“Where from? Might get one.”
“The shopping centre. Forget which shop.”
Natalie nodded, setting the photos aside.
“Ill talk to Simon first. Get the truth. *Then* decide.”
“Right. Just dont wait too long.”
Once alone, Natalie re-examined the photos. Something felt off. She called her son.
“Daniel, lovewhere exactly does Dad work again? Which department?”
“Accounts, senior clerk. Why?”
“Just curious. Any receptionists there?”
Daniel laughed.
“Mum, what? Accounts is just Dave and old Margaret. Dads told you that.”
Her pulse quickened.
“No young girls?”
“Nope. Why?”
“No reason.”
She hung up, mind racing. If Simons department had no young women who was in the photos?
Zooming in, the mans nose was wrong. The eyes different. Not Simon.
So Emily *lied*. But why?
That evening, she checked Simons phone while he showered. Scrolled texts, calls. Nothing suspicious until she spotted Emilys number. *Daily* calls.
The messages were worse:
*Simon, hows work?*
*Dont forget your blood pressure pills.*
*Fancy a coffee?*
*Natalies so lonely these days.*
The last one, sent that morning:
*Spoke to her. Hope youre ready for life without her.*
Natalies hands shook. Simon *had* replied:
*Thanks for caring.*
*Cant meetNatalies suspicious.*
*Ill think about what you said.*
Then, an hour ago:
*Emily, Ive decided. Talking to Natalie tomorrow.*
She shoved the phone back just as Simon returned. She pretended to sleep, heart hammering.
Morning came. Simon lingered before work.
“Natalie, we need to talk tonight.”
“Fine.”
He left. She called Emily.
“Come over. Need to show you something.”
Emily arrived, jittery. Natalie slapped the printed texts on the table.
Emily went pale.
“Natalie, its not what”
“Then *what* is it?”
“We just talk! I care about your marriage!”
“By *ruining* it?”
Emilys face crumpled.
“I *love* him! Have for years! He
