**Diary Entry 12th June**
“Where are you off to so late, Oliver?” asked Emily, watching as her husband buttoned his shirt in a hurry. The clock showed half past seven in the evening. Oliver didnt even glance at her as he grabbed his coat from the rack.
“Work emergency. Theyve called me in,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Dont wait upjust go to bed.”
Lately, these urgent calls had become more frequent. A quiet unease gnawed at Emily, though she tried hard to ignore it.
“Again? Third time this week,” she said, fighting to keep the accusation from her tone.
“Cant be helped. Comes with the job,” Oliver finally looked at her, but his eyes were distant, empty. “Ill try not to stay too late.”
The front door clicked shut. Emily stared at the empty hallway for a moment before turning away.
“Mummy, wheres Daddy going?” Little Sophie, their seven-year-old, appeared from her room clutching a board game. “He promised to play with me tonight.”
Emily knelt, smoothing Sophies shoulder. Her daughters eyes shimmered with disappointment.
“Daddys swamped with work, love. A big project he has to finish,” Emily said, though she hardly believed it herself.
Sophie sighed, shoulders sagging, and trudged back to her room. Emily watched her go, then retreated to the kitchen. To cheer Sophie up, she decided to bake her favourite chocolate chip biscuits. As she mixed the dough, her mind wandered.
All the signs were therelate nights, secrecy, the growing distance between them. Oliver no longer hugged her in the mornings or kissed her goodbye. Their conversations had dwindled to chores and Sophies schoolwork.
At dinner, Sophie brightened, munching warm biscuits and chattering about her day. Emily listened, nodding, but her thoughts were elsewhere. After tucking Sophie in with a bedtime story, she returned to the kitchen.
The warm water ran over her hands as she washed the dishes, but one question looped in her mindshould she confront him? Make him confess? Her chest tightened at the thoughtanother woman, surely. But what about Sophie? The girl adored her father. Then again, living with a liar was unbearable.
Two weeks passed. Oliver grew jumpier, flinching at phone calls, hiding his screen when she entered.
Then, one Saturday, he stayed home. They lounged before the telly while Sophie did homework in her room. The silence broke when Emilys phone rangan unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Emily?” A womans voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Its Patricia. We need to talkits important.”
“I think youve got the wrong”
The woman cut in sharply. “I havent. Youre Olivers wife, arent you?”
Emily froze. In her periphery, Oliver tensed.
“Yes,” she said slowly, switching to speakerphone.
“Good. Im Charlottes motherthe girl your husbands been seeing for a year. Shes only twenty, and Olivers her first. She worships him! Im asking yoube civilised about this. Let him go. Stop making my daughter miserable.”
Emily lifted her eyes to Oliver. His face had drained of colour.
“Charlotte cries every night,” Patricia continued. “Theyre in lovereal love. You need to step aside. Surely you understand you cant force devotion?”
Emily cleared her throat, forcing calm. “Thanks for calling, Patricia. Ill consider what to do.”
She hung up and turned to Oliver. He sat gripping the armrest.
“Well?” Her voice was eerily steady.
“Emily, itsits lies! I dont know any Charlotte!”
Her phone buzzedphotos arrived. Oliver and a young blonde, laughing, kissing, holding hands in a café.
“Proof of your ‘love,'” Emily said, turning the screen toward him.
His face twisted with rage. “Fine! Yes, its true! We met at a conferenceit just happened! What did you expect?”
Emily stood, brows raised. “How is this my fault?”
“You! It *is* you! You stopped caring! When did you last ask about my day? Cook my favourite meal? Smile at me?”
She stared, incredulous. Oliver ranted on:
“If youd shown me attention, talked to me, cherished me, Id never have looked elsewhere! But youre buried in work, in chores! The house matters more than I do!”
“Hold on,” Emily cut in. “Doesnt that go both ways? Youve been cold for years. But I didnt run off with another man!”
“Thats different! I work to provide! Keeping the spark alive is *your* jobyoure meant to be my support!”
Emily scoffed. “Says who? Some book of archaic rules? I work full-time too! Then I come home to cook, clean, raise our childand now Im meant to coddle you like a baby?”
Oliver gaped, silenced.
Emily nodded slowly. “Ive suspected for months. Now I know. Im filing for divorce. Be happy with Charlotte.”
“No!” He grabbed for her hands, but she stepped back. “Its not seriousjust a stupid fling! Forgive me!”
“Forgive you?” She laughed bitterly.
“Pleaselets talk. I cant leave my family!”
“Why not?”
“Where would I live? On the street?”
The truth struck her. “Ah. You werent hiding to spare meyou were scared of losing your home.”
Oliver looked down. His silence said everything.
“Pack your bags. Now.”
She found Sophie in the hallway, wide-eyed at the shouting. Emily hugged her tight. “Come on, sweetheartlets finish your homework.”
For the next hour, she focused on Sophie, ignoring the sounds of Oliver packing. When she emerged, he stood in the hallway with two bulging suitcasesdishevelled, defeated.
“Emily, give me another chance,” he begged. “Ill end thiswell start fresh!”
She opened the front door. “Go to Charlotte. Let *her* comfort you, since you chose her over your family.”
Oliver stepped out. The door slammed shut. Emily leaned against it, eyes closed. Emptiness filled her, but beneath itrelief. She wouldnt tolerate a cheat in her home. Not for anything.
**Lesson learned:** A man who blames you for his betrayal was never worth keeping. Let the door hit him on the way out.
