“Mum, did you make cordial?” asked Emily, stepping into the kitchen where her mother stood. “The whole flat smells amazing.”
“Just finished, love,” smiled Margaret, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. “Blackberry. I know its your favourite.”
Emily hugged her mothers shoulders and peeked into the saucepan. The berries bobbed in dark syrup, filling the air with the scent of childhood summers.
“Is Charlotte coming over today?” she asked, settling at the table.
“Promised to pop in after lunch,” Margaret said, pouring cordial into glasses. “Said she had something important to discuss.”
She slid a glass toward Emily. “Try itnot too sweet, is it?”
Emily took a sip and shook her head. “Perfect. Just like I remember.”
Her mother sat across from her, studying her daughters face. “Em, love… have you noticed Charlottes been acting odd lately? Used to ring every day, now we barely hear from her for weeks.”
“Mum, shes got work, the kidsno time for chats.”
“Maybe. But somethings off. Ran into her at Tesco yesterdaysaid hello, and she looked right through me.”
Emily frowned. Her sister *had* been distant latelyshort replies, silent at family gatherings, always the first to leave.
“Probably just stress,” Emily offered. “Ill talk to her.”
The doorbell cut them off. Margaret hurried to answer it.
“Charlie! So lovely youre here!” came her cheerful voice from the hall.
“Hi, Mum,” came Charlottes flat reply.
Emily heard footsteps, then her sister appeared in the doorwaytense, lips pressed thin.
“Hey, Charlie,” Emily greeted. “Sit down, Mum made cordial.”
“No thanks,” Charlotte said stiffly, still standing.
Margaret blinked. “Charlie, whats?”
“Its fine,” Charlotte cut in. “I need to talk to Em. Alone.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. That tone was new.
“Mum, maybe give us a minute?” she asked.
Margaret nodded, casting a worried glance between them before leaving.
Charlotte stepped closer but didnt sit.
“Right then,” she said, voice icy. “Enough playing the saint.”
“What?” Emily stared.
“Your little games. Thought I wouldnt find out?”
A chill ran down Emilys spine. Her mind raced, but nothing made sense.
“Charlie, explain properly. Whats going on?”
“Remember *James*, do you?” Charlottes voice sharpened.
Emily froze. JamesCharlottes husband. They *had* crossed paths awkwardly six months back, but shed assumed no one knew.
“What about him?” she said carefully.
“Dont act dim! I know about your cosy café chats. How you *comforted* him when we were struggling. How you hugged him in the car park.”
Charlotte pulled out her phonephotos of Emily and James at a café, one embracing.
“Charlie, its not what you”
“Oh, really?” Charlotte sneered. “Then enlighten me. Whys my sister sneaking around with my husband?”
Emily exhaled. Shed dreaded this conversation.
“James came to me for advice,” she began. “Said you two were arguing, that you wanted a divorce. He was desperate.”
“And you *helped*?” Charlottes voice cracked. “How *thoughtful* of you!”
“Charlie, he was heartbroken! Said he loved you, didnt want to lose the family. I just listened!”
“Listened?” Charlotte finally sat, rigid. “Why you? Why not his mates? Or his mum?”
Emily faltered. Why *had* James come to her?
“I dont know. Maybe because Im your sisterId understand your side.”
“Liar!” Charlotte snapped. “He came to you because youve *always* been too keen on him! Even when we were dating, you hung on his every word!”
“Charlie, thats ridiculous. Yes, we met a few times. Yes, I hugged himhe was in tears! But nothing happened!”
“And then suddenly,” Charlotte ploughed on, “he didnt want a divorce. Said we should work on things. And I thought*finally*, he gets it. Turns out it was *your* doing!”
Emily stood, reaching for her sister.
“Charlie, I know youre hurt. But I *was* trying to help. I hated seeing you both miserable.”
“*Help*?” Charlotte recoiled. “You decided *for me* whether my marriage was worth saving! You meddled where you werent *wanted*!”
“But youre *still together*! And things seem better now!”
“You think *not divorcing* means things are *better*?” Charlottes eyes gl
