**Diary Entry 12th March**
*I cant believe how things unfolded today. James was waiting for me when I got home, clearly irritated. He tossed the newspaper onto the coffee table with a frustrated sigh. “Youre late again, Emily. Third time this week. Ive been waiting two hours for dinner.”*
*I hurriedly unpacked the groceries, avoiding his gaze. “The shops were packed. Besides, you couldve made something yourself. It wouldnt kill you.”*
*But it wasnt about dinner. He stepped closer, eyes sharp. “Its not just that. Youre always disappearingdelayed at work, long queues at Tesco, sudden coffee dates with Sophie. And now your phones off? I called three times.”*
*I sighed, exhaustion weighing on me. “The battery died. You know how old my phone isit barely holds a charge.”*
*He watched me sort the shopping, his silence heavy. Fifteen years of marriage had made him notice thingsthe tension in my hands, the way I avoided his eyes, the careful words. Something was off, and it had been eating at him for months.*
*”Shepherds pie or fish fingers?” I asked, pretending everything was normal.*
*”Doesnt matter,” he muttered, retreating to the living room.*
*Later, over a silent meal, I mentioned my mum had called about visiting the countryside this weekend. He just shrugged. “Fine by me. Been ages since we got out.”*
*After dinner, I slipped into the bath while he cleared up. Thats when he found itmy second phone. Not my battered old one, but a sleek new one, tucked in my handbag. I didnt see his face when he discovered it, but I can imagine. The suspicion. The fear. The questions spiralling in his head.*
*When I came back, he was staring blankly at the telly. “You alright?” I asked.*
*”Just tired,” he lied, not meeting my eyes.*
*The next morning, he left for work, watching me too closely. “Late again today?” he asked casually.*
*”Doubt it,” I said. “But Ill call if I am.”*
*Which phone, he mustve wondered. But he didnt ask.*
*That evening, he came home early. “We need to talk,” he said, voice tight. My stomach dropped. Then he said it”About your second phone. I saw it yesterday. It fell out of your bag.”*
*I went pale. So he knew.*
*”Who is he?” James demanded, jaw clenched. “How longs this been going on?”*
*I didnt deny it. Just pulled the phone from my bag and slid it across the table. “Look for yourself. Passwords our anniversary.”*
*He unlocked it, braced for proof of an affair. Instead, he found writing apps, sketches, and a single contact”Bloomsbury Press.”*
*”What is this?” he asked, bewildered.*
*I took a shaky breath. “Its for my hobby. The one thats actually making money now.”*
*”What hobby?”*
*”I write childrens books, James. Have done for three years. Just scribbles at first, then I sent them off. Six months ago, a publisher got interested.”*
*He stared, stunned. “Youre a writer? And you hid it from me?”*
*”I was scared youd laugh,” I admitted. “Remember when you mocked my poetry at uni? Called it pretentious drivel? And then I didnt want to jinx it. Thought Id surprise you when the first book printed.”*
*His face flushed with guilt. After a beat, he asked, “Can I read it?”*
*I hesitated, then handed it over. “Its about a hedgehog afraid of the dark.”*
*By the time he finished, he was smiling. “This is brilliant, Em. Youre really good.”*
*”You mean that?”*
*”God, yes. Im proud of you. And Christ, Im sorry for what I thought.”*
*We talked for hoursabout my stories, my sketches, the future. He listened like he was discovering me all over again. That night, he pulled me close. “Glad I found that phone. Now I get to know you properly.”*
*”Me too,” I whispered. “No more hiding in cafés to write.”*
*”One condition,” he said. “I read everything first. Before editors, before anyone.”*
*”Deal,” I laughed. “Just no pretentious drivel, yeah?”*
*He kissed my hand. “Promise.”*
*Two months later, on our anniversary, I gave him the first printed copy. Inside, Id written: “To Jamesmy harshest critic and dearest love. Thank you for believing in me.”*
*And for the first time in years, I saw him cry.*
