23October
The evening slipped into the kitchen, the amber glow of the table lamp spilling across the tiles. I stood at the window, stirring my tea with a silver spoon, watching the steam swirl like my thoughts. In recent weeks something felt off, as if a quiet alarm was ringing in the back of my mind. Stephen had been staying later at the office than usual, his replies short, his eyes avoiding mine. Yesterday he didnt even come home, citing an unexpected business trip.
The phone buzzed, breaking the quiet. Natalie, the screen announcedmy best friend of twenty years, the one wed met back in teachertraining college.
Eleanor, we need to see each other, Natalies voice sounded unusually grave. Its urgent. Can I come over?
Of course, I replied, surprised by her insistence. Stephens not here, so we can talk in peace.
There was a pause, then she whispered, Thats exactly what I want to talk about.
I hadnt paid much heed to the tone; Natalie and I have always been an open book to one anotherwork woes, disappointments, triumphs. It was Natalie whod introduced me to Stephen at that graduation party fifteen years ago. Fifteen years of marriagenothing perfect, but mostly happy, or so I thought.
When she knocked, the table was already laid with scones topped with clotted cream and jam, the scent of vanilla filling the room. Natalie entered looking drained, dark circles under her eyes, paleness that even skillful makeup couldnt hide, and a nervous jitter in her movements.
Whats happened? I pulled her into a hug and led her to the kitchen. You look pale. Work trouble?
She sat down but didnt touch her tea, fidgeting with a napkin as if gathering courage.
Eleanor, I dont know how to say this I need to confess something.
I smiled, trying to reassure her. You know you can tell me anything. Whatever it is.
She lifted her eyes, a silent plea mixed with fear and guilt.
Im sorry, but Im pregnant with your husbands child, she blurted, then clamped her hands over her face.
Time seemed to freeze. I stared at her, stunned, wondering if I was dreaming, if this was some cruel joke. Yet the odd distance Stephen had shown lately, his endless overtime, the tension that had crept into our marriageall of it snapped into a painful picture.
What? I managed to whisper.
I know its horrible, Natalies hands fell, tears glistening on her cheeks. I never meant to hurt you. It happened accidentally, at the June office party you missed because of your flu.
I remembered that night. Stephen had returned early the next morning, laughing, the scent of fine whisky clinging to him, recounting a ridiculous competition where the boss had gotten drunk and danced on the tables. I had smiled, grateful that he was in good spirits.
It was just once? My voice sounded foreign, as if spoken by someone else.
No. We met a few more times after that. I know its unforgivable. I betrayed your trust, our friendship.
What about Stephen? Does he know about the baby?
Yes. I told him last week. Hes bewildered. He says he loves you, doesnt want to wreck our family, but he cant just walk away from his child.
I walked to the window. Outside, an old oak rustled in the wind, its yellow leaves fluttering down. How many evenings had I stood here, waiting for Stephen to come home, dreaming of a future filled with children that never arrived? How many tears had I shed, how many doctors appointments endured? And now my husband would be a fatherto my best friends child.
Why tell me this now? I asked, not turning around. What are you hoping Ill say?
I dont know, Natalie whispered. Maybe Im looking for forgiveness, even if I dont deserve it. Or perhaps I just think you should hear it from me, not from anyone else. Im ready to leave, to disappear from your life. If you can forgive Stephen, I promise Ill never
Dont say what you cant keep, I cut in. Youll have his child. Youre linked forever, whether you like it or not.
She stared at me, a mixture of familiarity and alienation. We had shared secrets, countless latenight talks. I had always believed I knew her as well as I knew myself.
I dont know what to say, Natalie. I need time to think. Please, just go.
She rose slowly, hesitating at the doorway. Eleanor, I
Just go now, I said, my voice firmer than I felt.
When the door shut, I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, sobbing. Everything Id trusted, everything Id built over fifteen years, crumbled in an instant. My husband, the man Id loved for so long, and my friend, someone Id confided in as if she were my own sister, had both betrayed me in the most brutal way.
Later that night Stephen came home late, the house still dim. He flicked on the light and froze when he saw me sitting in the dark living room.
Eleanor? Why are you sitting there in the dark? Whats happened?
I looked at himso familiar, so ordinary after all those years of waking up beside him, memorising every line on his face, every inflection in his voice. Now he seemed a stranger.
Natalie came over, I said simply.
His hand with the briefcase dropped to his side, his face paling.
What did she say?
Everything, I replied. Shes pregnant with you.
He stumbled into the bedroom, sank into the armchair opposite me.
Eleanor, I dont know what to say. Im guilty, thats true. But it isnt what you think.
What am I supposed to think, Stephen? My voice stayed oddly calm. That a friendly drink turned into a pregnancy?
No, of course not, he ran a hand over his face. Im not trying to excuse myself. It really started at that June party. We both had too much to drink. Afterwards we tried to shrug it off, but we met again and it happened again.
How long did it go on?
About three months. Theres no excuse for it, but I need you to knowI never intended to leave you. It was a lapse, a foolish mistake, nothing more.
And now? I asked. Now theres a child. The very child weve both dreamed of for years, but never managed to have.
He winced. I know how painful this is for you. All those years we tried, all those hopes
Dont bring up the hopes, I snapped. Dont talk about the dreams you shattered. You crushed them.
What do you want me to do? he asked quietly.
What do you want to do yourself? I shot back.
He stood, pacing the room. I dont know, Eleanor. I love you, Ive been your wife for fifteen years but this child is my blood. I cant just turn my back on him.
Of course you cant, I said, nodding. And you shouldnt have to. Hes your son. That doesnt mean I have to love you again.
Does Natalie love you? he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I I dont know. Weve never spoken of it.
Did you ever talk about this at all? I laughed bitterly. Or was it just secret meetings and you know what?
He fell silent. We never discussed it. It was just us, in the moment.
I suppose you think Ill just forget that theres a baby growing inside someone elses womb? I asked, my anger sharpening. That Ill look at Natalie and see only the betrayal?
No, he said, his head bowed. Im not asking you to forget. Im asking for a chance to try to make this right, if youll let me.
I need time, I said, standing. Im going to stay with my sister tonight. Well talk tomorrow.
Dont leave like this, Eleanor, he called after me. Lets sort this out now.
What is there to sort? I turned, my voice cold. You made your choice the moment you lay with my best friend. Live with the consequences.
My sisters flat welcomed me with warm tea and the soft hum of a kettle. Irene didnt ask questions; she simply wrapped me in an embrace and said, Stay as long as you need.
Sleep evaded me. Fragments of our early years together swirled in my mindour first apartment, the hope of children, the endless doctor visits that yielded nothing. Doctors had told us to be patient, that time might bring a miracle. Now the future lay shattered, the pieces jagged and sharp.
The next morning Natalie called. Her voice cracked. Eleanor, I need to talk again. Just once more. I have to explain everything.
Whats there left to explain? I sighed. Its all clear.
No, it isnt. Please, give me a chance. Ill meet you at the little café on the park corner at one.
Our caféThe Willowhas been our Friday rendezvous for years, a tiny spot by the pond where weve swapped secrets over steaming cups. Now it felt like a courtroom.
When I arrived, the place was almost empty. Natalie sat at our usual table, a untouched cup of coffee in front of her. She stood quickly, then sank back down, unsure how to sit.
Thank you for coming, she said softly.
Im listening, I replied, tone chilled.
She inhaled deeply. I know I dont deserve your forgiveness, or even your attention. But I have to tell you the truth. I pursued Stephen. I wanted his attention, I wanted what you hadyour stable marriage, your beautiful home, your career. I was jealous, Eleanor. I was divorced, living alone, men never stayed. It ate at me.
Do you think that changes anything? I asked, a faint smile forming. Hes an adult man; he made his own choices.
Im not trying to absolve him, she said quickly. But you deserve to know why. I was envious of you. I wanted what you had. At that June party, when you didnt show up after your argument with him, he was upset, he drank heavily. I comforted him, told him you still loved him, that things would be okay. Then it happened.
I recalled that trivial argumenta petty spat over nothing. I hadnt been ill; I simply stayed home, annoyed at Stephen.
So you kept meeting after that? I asked.
Yes, she admitted, eyes downcast. He wanted to stop, said he loved me, that it was a mistake. But I called, texted, found excuses to see him. I knew his weak points, I knew how to reach him.
Why are you telling me all this now? I asked.
Because Stephen still loves you, she said simply. He always has. Even when we were together, he talked about youhow they met, the proposal, the plans. I was just a placeholder, a surrogate. I knew that, but I kept going because he was a part of your life.
I sat in stunned silence, trying to digest the layers of betrayal. Was there any deeper motive behind Stephens actions, or was it simply lust? Was Natalie trying to manipulate me by pulling at my sympathy?
What about the baby? I finally asked. Was that part of your plan?
No, she shook her head. It was an accident. I never intended to get pregnant. When I found out, I decided to keep the childnot to tie Stephen to me, but because Im fortythree now. It might be my last chance to be a mother.
Her words struck a chord. I had thought about my own ticking clock countless times.
Im not asking you to understand or forgive me, Natalie continued. I know I destroyed our friendship, breached your trust. But if you can forgive Stephen hes not the villain. Hes a flawed man who loves you, Eleanor, always has.
And the child? I asked. Do you realise that if Stephen and I stay together, that child will still be part of our lives?
I understand, she said. I wont interfere. I wont demand anything beyond what the law obliges. If you dont want to see me, Ill get a job elsewhere, move to another city.
I looked at Natalie, the woman whod known me for twenty years, the one whod stood beside me through every storm, now carrying my husbands child. Anger, hurt, betrayal swirled inside me.
I need time, I said, standing. I cant decide anything right now.
Of course, she replied quickly. Just dont blame Stephen too harshly. Blame me.
I left the café with a heavy heart, walking through the park without noticing the goldcoloured leaves or the pale blue of the autumn sky. Fragments of conversations, accusations, memories fluttered through my mind.
What now? Can I ever forgive Stephen? Can I accept that his child will exist, that it will be part of our world? Can I let go of the pain and start anew?
Deep down, a flicker of hope remained. Hope that even the darkest night can give way to dawn, that true love might survive the hardest trial.
That evening I returned home. Stephen waited in the dim living room, just as I had waited for him yesterday. We talked at lengthabout the past, the future, the ache, the possibility of forgiveness, the trust wed have to rebuild, the baby that would soon be born, whatever we decide.
By morning I realised I wasnt ready to erase fifteen years of love because of one terrifying mistake. The road to forgiveness would be long and painful, but we would try to walk it together.
A week later I called Natalie. We need to talk about the future, about how the three of us will live.
There was a pause, then she answered softly, Thank you, Eleanor. Thank you for not cutting me out completely.
I cant promise well ever be friends again, I said honestly. But that child will need both a mother and a father. Ill try to find the strength to accept that.
I hung up and moved to the window. Outside, golden leaves twirled in a waltz. Autumn, the season of letting go, of preparing for the long winter. Yet after every winter comes spring, and perhaps in that spring our lives will bloom anewdifferent, perhaps deeper, certainly wiser.
Only time will tell. For now, I simply have to keep moving, one day at a time, trusting that even the deepest wound will eventually scar over, leaving a reminder of what was, not a barrier to what can be.
