Im staying with you, I say, voice trembling.
Beatrice, Ive lost my mind, Charles swears, clutching his hands. I dont know how it happened. Forgive me, I beg you! I swear Ill never speak to her again. Ill change my job if you want. Shall we go? Just dont walk away from me
***
September greets Beatrice with a cool but still gentle sun. Yellow leaves swirl underfoot, and the air carries the scent of damp earth and the promise of autumn. She hurriedly packs suitcases. Ahead lies a long journey to Yorkshire, where her mother, suddenly taken ill, waits.
At first it looks like a simple cold, but a deep unease settles in Beatrices chest, growing each day. Doctors deliver a shocking diagnosis that hits her like a cold shower. Charles stays at the flat; he cant accompany his wife. Beatrice has to make the only sensible choice: take Tommy and fly to her mother at once. Thus begins their harsh, exhausting battle for precious time
The first three months blur into endless doctor visits, endless tests, and frantic attempts to find a good specialist. Whenever a free window appears, Beatrice returns home, yet a feeling that something has shifted lingers. The house is tidy, the flat cosy, Charles tries to keep the routine, but Beatrices thoughts remain stuck in Yorkshire. The home isnt abandonedCharles maintains the familiar rhythm, the comfort is there, but her focus has moved.
Just as her mother steadies a little, Beatrice has to pack again. Tommy, a bit weary from flights and hospital corridors but obedient, comes with her. More planes, more doctors, hope flickering like a candle. By March theres a slight relief: her mother improves marginally, and Beatrice allows herself a short break, returning home for a couple of weeks.
During that brief lull truth, like a stubborn weed, pushes through. Tommy complains that his phone fell into the bath. Beatrice remembers a lifehack she once read in a womens magazineput the device in a bowl of rice.
She pulls the smartphone out, switches it on. The screen lights up, showing an incoming message. Charles is napping peacefully on the sofa.
Tommy, lookyour phone works, Beatrice says, handing him the device.
He lazily scrolls through the notifications and freezes.
Whats this? Beatrice leans closer, noticing his stiff posture. Im falling in love with you more and more. What does that mean?
Charles jerks upright, clears his throat, trying to appear calm, though his hands tremble slightly.
Love, lovedont get the wrong idea, love, he blurts, Its just a joke. A colleague at work was being cheeky. We sometimes have a laugh
Joke? Beatrice crosses her arms, feeling an unexpected chill despite the warm flat. Youre kidding?
Its nothing, really. We work together, thats all.
Are you sure? Because messages like that arent usually sent by just a colleague, she replies, studying his face for any hint of deceit.
Im absolutely sure. Youre overthinking it because of Mums illness. Lets leave it and go for a walk. The suns out, we need some fresh air.
He presses the idea of a stroll with such insistence that Beatrice, exhausted after three months of relentless stress, gives in. She tells herself its just nerves and fatigue. They walk, but the false calm slips away as soon as they return home.
A new message from the same colleague flashes up, even more blatant. Beatrice feels a sting of jealousy, but she decides to talk to Charles first, not launch a scene.
Tommy, look at this. Its not a joke any more.
He takes the phone; his face turns pale.
Its a mistake. Ill text her right now to stop it.
Youll text her? Or should I do it? Beatrices voice trembles.
Beatrice, I love only you. Theres no point making a drama out of this.
Soon another flight, another trip to Yorkshire, more doctors, more tests, a hospital ward humming with machines. Tommy remains the only constant in the chaos. Mum improves a touch, and Beatrice finally gets a breath of relief.
***
March arrives. Mum feels a little stronger, and Beatrice manages another short trip home, hoping to rebalance her life. Yet the balance doesnt return. The SMS thread she skimmed earlier haunts her; she cant simply forget those words.
She decides not to wait for another excuse and confronts Charles directly.
Tommy, I need the truth. I cant keep living with vague explanations.
Darling, Ive already explained! It was a clumsy joke. I dont get why youre bringing it up again.
Because it makes me uneasy, Beatrice replies firmly.
Charles tenses.
Beatrice, why are you making a fuss? Its already complicated enough
I spoke to your colleague, Beatrice says, her tone turning icy, and she herself reached out.
Charles freezes.
She wrote, Beatrice continues, looking straight into his eyes, Yes, I love him. Yes, we had something. What do you say to that, Charles?
He remains silent, his face turning ashen.
Leave, Beatrices voice shakes with restrained anger, Pack your things and go.
No, he whispers, Youre making a huge mistake! I never had anything with her. She invented it, and you believed a lunatic!
I dont believe you! Beatrice snaps, pulling out her phone and showing him a screenshot of the conversation where the affair admits everything. Look! This is your joke!
Charles drops his head. Silence stretches on forever. He lifts his gaze, now a mixture of guilt and desperation.
Fine. I slipped. I love only you, always have, Beatrice. Thats the truth.
Slipped? Beatrice laughs bitterly, Three years of lies right in my face! How do you disrespect a person enough to do that?
Its not a lie, I truly love you! I just wasnt there as often as I should have
Not there? Thats cowardice! she shouts, taking a step back, Youre a coward!
But I didnt leave you, Beatrice, I didnt abandon you! he pleads, reaching for her hand, Were together
Beatrice pulls her hand away. Whether he leaves or stays no longer matters; the pain he caused eclipses everything.
You didnt abandon me, you say? she asks, voice sour, You were torn, but you didnt walk away
I couldnt! I love you!
Love? Beatrice shakes her head, No, you stayed because it was convenient, not because you loved me. Im done analysing your motives. I have to go. Mums condition worsens.
Another flight. Another trip to Yorkshire, doctors, hospital corridors. Now Beatrice carries not only her mothers illness but also the weight of her husbands betrayal
***
Mum passes in August. By New Year Beatrice drifts through days like a daze, mechanically ticking off chores. The house she once saw as a fortress now feels foreign. Tommy is her anchor, the only thing keeping her from dissolving into endless grey.
When the initial months of despair fade, she awakens a little, but never fully recovers. Every glance at Charles burns. She cant bear to see his face, hear his voice. Yet she clings to the necessity of caring for Tommy, who seems to sense her turmoil.
Charles, realizing the depth of his wrongdoing, tries to mend things. He stays close, offers help, begs forgiveness, pleads for a fresh start.
Beatrice, please, lets try again. I made a terrible mistake. I know. But I never left when you went to Mums. Doesnt that prove my love?
The words from that old SMS replay in her mind, the ones she accidentally saw while clearing her phones memory:
Youre my everything, he wrote to the other woman.
Her reply, etched in her memory:
Did I tell your wife everything? Someone should have nudged her. Any wife would have left, but yours a rag!
Beatrice watches Tommy building a tower of blocks in the corner, his concentration reminding her of her own childhood. He doesnt deserve a home where his mother is haunted by lies.
Charles enters, holding two mugs of tea.
Here, herbal tea. Have a sip.
Beatrice takes the mug but doesnt drink.
I cant, Charles
We agreedtime heals. Give us time. Ill do anything to win your forgiveness.
Time? she smiles bitterly, Time showed I can lie like a pro. You stayed because it became inconvenient to leave, not because Im your love. Her words prove it. She wrote shed told you everything.
It was stupid of her! I told her it was over!
You didnt forbid her, Charles. You just chose the easier thing to say so I wouldnt collapse.
She draws a deep breath.
I cant forgive you now. Maybe never. But I must live. Tommy must live. Well live apart for now. Ill send him to his aunt for a few weeks and stay with a friend while I sort out what I want next.
Charles turns ashen. He realises this isnt a pause; its a genuine chance of losing everything.
Beatrice, dont do this. Please. Ill see a therapist, any specialist. Ill quit my job if I have to. Just dont go.
Im not leaving you, Charles. Im leaving the lies, she whispers, I cant love you while you live in a lie. Well talk when I return, if I ever do
***
Beatrice never returns. Two months pass with the couple living apart, then she decidesshe wont keep the family together, even for Tommy. Charles changes jobs, cuts ties with the other woman. Yet Beatrice knows that young woman will forever linger in his and her memory, and she cant accept it. Never.
