28October2025
The key clicked in the lock, and I slipped into the flat as quietly as possible. The hallway was dark, a thin sliver of light spilling from the kitchen. My parents were still awake despite it being past midnight these latenight talks behind the closed door have become a regular thing lately, usually a lowkey chat but occasionally edging into a muffled argument.
I slipped off my shoes, set my laptop bag on the nightstand and crept down the corridor to my bedroom. I didnt feel like explaining why I was home late, even though the reason was legitimate a work project kept stalling and the deadline was breathing down my neck.
From the next room I could hear fragments of a conversation.
No, Tom, I cant keep going like this, Mum whispered, irritation clear in her tone. You promised last month.
Ellie, understand, now isnt the time, Dad tried to defend himself, his voice weary.
I exhaled, tired. Lately theyve been arguing about everything, yet they pretend its all fine in front of me. Theyre both in their fifties, Im an adult, but it still hurts to sense something amiss in their marriage.
I changed, washed my face and slipped under the covers, but sleep wouldnt come. My thoughts kept circling the same worries. My brother, Chris, lives in Manchester and only visits occasionally. If Mum and Dad decide to split, who gets the flat? Why are they hiding their problems?
The voices continued. I reached for the nightstand and felt the headphones I wanted to drown the noise with music. My hand brushed the phone, which slipped onto the carpet. Picking it up, I accidentally opened the voicememo app. My finger hovered over the record button.
What if I recorded them? Just to hear whats really happening, instead of guessing. If I asked outright, theyd probably brush it off and say everythings fine.
A pang of conscience hit me. Eavesdropping is wrong, let alone recording. Yet theyre my parents; I have a right to know if something serious is going on.
Resolving to act, I pressed record, placed the phone nearer the wall and pulled the blanket over my head.
In the morning, while preparing for work, I noticed both Mum and Dad looked exhausted. Over breakfast they exchanged only the usual polite phrases.
You got home late last night, Mum said, pouring tea. Stuck at work again?
Yes, the project was running over, I replied. Did you both manage any sleep?
Just a film, Mum shrugged without meeting my eyes.
Dad stared at the newspaper, feigning concentration.
Dont expect me for dinner, he added without looking up. Clients in town, I may be late.
Mum pursed her lips but said nothing.
All the way to the office I fought the urge to listen to the nights recording. The tube was too crowded, and it felt wrong. I decided to wait until evening.
The day dragged on. When I got home, Mum wasnt there a note said shed gone to a friends and would be back late. Dad was, as promised, still at work. Perfect timing.
I flopped onto the sofa, wrapped myself in a blanket and hit play.
At first I heard only fragments, then the audio cleared.
Should we tell Emma? Dads voice was tense.
Im not sure, Mum sighed. Im afraid she wont understand after all these years.
She has a right to know.
Mums tone wavered. I dont know how to explain why we kept quiet for so long.
I froze. What were they hiding? What truth lay beneath their whispers?
Remember how it all started? Dad asked, a faint smile in his voice.
Of course, Mum chuckled. I thought it would be a shortterm thing, turned out to be forever.
What a life its become, Dad muttered. Sometimes its hard.
Especially after Emma arrived.
My chest tightened. Especially? Did they consider me an unwanted child?
Dad continued, But we managed, and she grew up wonderful.
Mums pride shone through. Yes, were proud, but now we need to decide what comes next. Im tired of living this double life, Tom.
A double life? My mind raced an affair? A secret second family? The thought made me nauseous.
Emma, lets wait for Chris to get here. Well talk together, as a family.
Fine, Mum agreed. No more postponements. Either we change everything, or
The recording cut off, probably because they left the kitchen or the phone stopped.
I sat stunned. What was this double life? Why wait for my brother to explain? I could record another conversation, but that felt invasive. Better to call Chris. Hes older; maybe he knows more. Or ask Aunt Vera shes always been straightforward with me.
I decided: tomorrow Ill ring Chris, and this weekend Ill drive to Aunt Veras.
Chris didnt answer all day, finally calling just before evening.
Hey, Mark, he said, a hint of cheer in his voice. Sorry, I was on site, left my phone in the van.
When are you coming back? I asked.
This weekend, actually. Whats up?
Mum and Dad have been acting weird. Theyre whispering at night, pretending everythings fine. They mentioned a double life.
There was a pause.
I I think I know a bit, he said, then hesitated. But they havent spoken to me yet. Give me until Saturday, alright?
I agreed, then asked about Aunt Vera.
Dont involve her, he replied quickly. Lets keep this between us.
His reluctance only deepened my suspicion. Was there an affair? A family scandal?
Later that evening Mum returned, buoyant after a night out with a friend.
Guess what, darling, Tom is selling the flat! she announced. He wants to move to the countryside.
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
Would you like to live in the country? I asked, surprised at my own question.
Mum hesitated, then said, Sometimes it feels right. Fresh air, a garden
And Dad?
She glanced at Dad, who was still at work, and said, Ask him later; hell be back late.
Dad returned earlier than expected, shedding his coat as he entered.
Tea? I called.
Yes, thanks, he replied, dropping his briefcase. Wheres Mum?
Shes in the living room watching a film, I said, handing him a mug.
Hows the project? he asked.
Going well, the client finally agreed, he said, sinking into a chair. Anything else on your mind?
I decided to test the waters. I heard you and Mum talking last night. Is there something you need to tell me?
Dad looked startled. What are you talking about?
I blurted, Chris mentioned youd explain something this weekend.
Dads face shifted from confusion to realization, then to a forced calm. There is something, but lets wait for Chris. Itll be clearer then.
Are you getting a divorce? I asked bluntly.
His eyebrows shot up. No! Why would you think that?
You keep whispering, Mum talked about a double life, I replied.
He sighed, then said, It isnt a divorce. Its something else. Trust me, its not as bad as it sounds.
The night after, I lay awake, piecing together the fragments. No divorce, but what? A serious illness? Financial trouble? A move? The phrase opposite life nagged at me.
Mum knocked gently.
Cant sleep? she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
No, I admitted. What did you and Dad discuss?
She smiled faintly. Nothing extraordinary. Just work, Chriss visit, the weekend.
Are you both okay? I pressed.
She squeezed my hand. Absolutely. Life sometimes throws surprises, even after fifty. You just have to decide how to handle them.
Good or bad? I asked.
Both, she said, patting my hair. Dont jump to conclusions. Youll know soon enough.
She left, and I was left with a thousand questions and no answers. Should I record again? No that would be crossing a line I didnt want to cross. Id better talk to Chris and, maybe, Aunt Vera.
The weekend arrived as swiftly as a London rainstorm. Chris showed up around noon, suntanned and laughing, with a few bags in the boot.
Family council? he joked as we all gathered in the living room.
Dad and Mum exchanged a quick glance.
Yes, we have news, Mum began.
I inhaled sharply.
Were moving, she announced.
Where to? I asked.
To the village of Oakfield, about three hundred miles north, Dad replied. Thats where our real home is.
Why now? I asked, bewildered.
Mum answered, We bought the farm fifteen years ago. It started as a weekend cottage, but over the years it became a proper farm orchards, a bee apiary, a few cows, even a chicken coop.
A farm? I echoed, eyes wide. You keep bees?
Dad beamed. Fifteen hives. The honey is excellent.
And youre leaving the city? Mum added. Well retire next month; Ill work from home. Dad will come into the office once a week for meetings.
Dad turned to me. The flat can be yours if you want it, or we can sell and split the proceeds. Its your call.
I stared at them, a mix of anger and astonishment bubbling up. So youve been living a double life as farmers while pretending to be city workers?
Dad chuckled. Exactly. In the city were accountants, in Oakfield were growers. Thats the double life you heard about.
Mum nodded. We never told you because you always said you hated the countryside. Remember how youd cry when we took you to Grandmas farm as a child?
That was when I was a kid! I protested. Im an adult now.
Dad said, You never asked where we really went. We were embarrassed to admit wed built a whole livelihood there.
Mum added, We didnt mean to keep secrets. It just happened.
I inhaled deeply. So the double life was a farm, not an affair.
Dad smiled. Precisely. And were happy here.
Mum reached over and hugged me. We should have told you sooner. Sorry.
I asked, Can I visit the farm? See the bees and the fields?
Of course! Tomorrow, if you like, Dad said.
That night sleep eluded me again. A strange blend of resentment, curiosity, and excitement churned inside. How many years had I missed while chasing deadlines and meetings in the city?
The next morning we piled into the car. The further we drove from London, the more animated Dad and Mum became, describing neighbours, new vegetable varieties, the sauna Dad built, and Mums jammaking experiments.
When we turned onto the narrow lane that led to the farm, Mum turned to me.
We wanted to tell you long ago, but we feared your reaction, she said.
Dad added, Were just city retirees playing at being farmers.
I wont laugh, I replied quietly. Ive lived long enough to appreciate both worlds.
Mum smiled. Youve grown up; we should have trusted you more.
The car stopped in front of a charming stone cottage surrounded by hedgerows. The scent of fresh grass and wildflowers filled the air; a cow lowed in the distance, chickens clucked nearby, and the faint hum of bees was audible.
Welcome to our real home, Dad said, turning off the engine. Ready to meet our secret life?
I stepped out, feeling the cool breeze on my face. I think I like this, I said, smiling.
We walked toward the garden, and I felt that, despite the shock, I had gained something far richer than any city skyscraper could offer a glimpse into a world I never imagined.
Looking back at the city I left behind, I realise that secrets often stem from fear of disappointing those we love. By choosing honesty over assumption, Ive learned that openness can bridge gaps between two very different lives. The lesson Ill carry forward is simple: ask before you judge, and keep the door to communication always open.
