Emily sits on the sofa, legs tucked under her, scrolling through the holiday photos on her tablet. Look at this one, Jamie! Harry looks adorable! she says, grinning at the picture of their twelveyearold son in the sand.
Jamie, her husband, pulls his eyes away from the spreadsheet of the household budget he updates every month and leans over her shoulder. Not bad, he nods, though his face is more worried than pleased. The expenses this month are the sea was lovely, but weve ripped a hole in the budget.
Come on, Jamie, we havent gone anywhere all year! Emily puffs. Weve been saving for this. You were the one who said we needed a break, to take Harry to the coast.
He sighs. I said it, but seeing the numbers is another story. Fine, well tighten the belt next month. Harrys summer camp will have to be cancelled; we cant afford it.
What? Cancel it? Hes been looking forward to ithiking, kayaking
Itll be fine. He can stay at Grandmas cottage, get some fresh air. Thatll be better. Lets not argue. Ive decided.
Emily falls silent. Arguing about money with Jamie is pointless. Hes a devoted husband and father, reliable and caring, but when it comes to finances hes as hard as steel. Every penny counts. He prides himself on their safety cushion, the account they keep for unexpected costs. Though Emily sometimes complains that the cushion is too stiff, deep down she values his prudence.
She picks the perfect shot: the three of themEmily, Jamie, and Harrystanding on the promenade, sunkissed, with the blue sea behind them and a white passenger boat in the distance. She hits publish on her social media page and writes simply, Our little southern bliss.
Within minutes likes and comments pour in: Looking gorgeous!, What a fantastic spot!, Where did you go? Emily replies with a smile, warmed by the virtual attention.
An hour later shes forgotten the photo and is prepping dinner when the phone rings. The screen shows Sophie. Sophie is Jamies sister, and Emily gets a pleasant feelingshe and her sisterinlaw get along well.
Hey, Soph! How are you?
Instead of Sophies usual bright voice, Emily hears a choked sob.
Emily is it true? Sophie wails.
Whats true? Sophie, whats happened? Why are you crying?
The picture the one you posted online Is it a fake? Sophie asks, frantic.
Fake? Its just a holiday snap. Explain, youre scaring me!
In the background, by the boat theres a man in a white shirt Is that him? Is that David?
Emilys heart skips. DavidJamies best mate, Irenes husbanddied three years ago in a horrific crash on the M6. The car went up in flames, he was buried in a sealed coffin. It crushed everyone; Jamie turned gray, aged ten years in a day. Irene, his widow, still struggles, raising their daughter alone, scraping by.
No, Davids dead! Youre seeing things, Emily says, but Sophie screams, No! I recognise him! The freckle on his neck, his watch! Look, Emily, please!
Emily drops the knife, wipes her hands, and rushes to the tablet. She opens the photo, zooms in. Past the smiling faces, she spots a group near the boat. Among them stands a man in a white shirt and light trousers, halfturned, chatting with a woman who holds a little girls hand.
She zooms further. The image is grainy, but the shoulders, the tilt of the head, the watch on his wristthe same watch they all gifted James and David for his thirtieth birthdayand the dark spot on his neck are unmistakable.
Its him. David. Alive. Healthy. With another woman and another child.
The world tilts. Emily sinks into a chair, stunned. This cant be real; it feels like a cruel prank.
Sophie, you see it? Hes alive and Ireneshes been scraping by for three years, working three jobs, raising her daughter alone! And he just ran off! How could he? Sophie sobs.
I dont know, Sophie Ill call you back, Emily whispers, hanging up. She stares at the photo, at her own smiling face, feeling foolish and blind.
Her mind, still frozen, begins to piece together the horror. The monthly transfers Jamie claims are for his elderly aunt in Bournemouth, Shes struggling, the pension isnt enough, we have to help. Emily never questioned it; an aunt is an aunt.
The hushed phone calls Jamie makes, slipping into another room, speaking in clipped tones: Yes, got it. No, she doesnt know. Dont worry. Shed assumed work matters.
His sudden stinginess about money, which started exactly three years ago, the relentless mantra to save, save, save, the refusal to fund Harrys campshe now sees it all. He wasnt helping an aunt; he was funneling cash to his dead friend, supporting Davids new life. Hed been complicit in the monstrous deception, siphoning money from their family, robbing his own son of joy to fund a betrayal.
The front door opens. Jamie walks in, cheerfully announcing, Hey! Whats that wonderful smell? He sees Emilys pale face, the tablet on the table, and freezes. He follows her gaze to the screen.
Something wrong? he asks, voice unusually tense.
Somethings happened, Jamie, Emily says, eyes cold, empty of tears. Your sister called. She asked about Aunt Lucy in Bournemouth. She must be missing you. Shes doing well down south, even looks younger.
She turns the tablet toward him. Except now shes called David. You know what I mean.
Jamies face turns ashen for a split second as he looks at the enlarged image. He realizes everything.
Emily, Ill explain
No, I dont want to hear your lies, she cuts him off. How much have you sent him in the last three years? A hundred thousand? Two hundred? A million? How much have you stolen from us from me, from our son?
I didnt steal! I was helping a friend! He was in huge debt, they would have killed him! The only way out was to disappear, start over! he protests.
And Irene? Her daughter? Theyre not in trouble?! Emily shouts. His wife thought she was a widow at twentyeight! His daughter growing up without a father! Did you ever think of them when you were feeding this scumbag?
Irene is strong, he says hoarsely. David had no choice.
There’s always a choice, Jamie! Emily snaps, her fist pounding the table like a gunshot. You chose him over us! You lied to me every day! Every time you said we couldnt afford Harrys camp, you were lying! Every time I patched his jeans because we couldnt buy new ones, you were lying! You made me an accomplice to your lies!
Jamie lowers his head, silent, with nothing left to say.
I need to know one thing, Emily whispers. Our trip to the coast we didnt end up in this town by accident, did we? You wanted to see him?
He nods slowly.
Thats the last straw. The whole holiday, the little happiness, was just a cover for his secret meeting. Emily and Harry were merely props in his other persons drama.
She grabs her phone, her fingers trembling, and dials a number.
Who are you calling? Jamie asks, nervous.
Someone who still has the truth, Emily replies.
On the other end, a sobbing but steady voice answersSophie.
Sophie, put Irene on the line.
Emily, maybe we shouldnt Shes
No, we have to. She deserves to know. Weve lived in lies too long.
Jamie watches, horrified, as the inevitable collapse unfolds. He steps toward her, trying to snatch the phone.
Dont, she hisses, her eyes blazing with cold fury, forcing him back.
A tired voice of Irene comes through. Yes, Im listening.
Emily takes a deep breath. Irene, hello. We need to talk about David.
She sits at the table, her back to the frozen Jamie in the doorway. She doesnt know what tomorrow will bringdivorce, property split, Harrys tearsbut now she does the only thing she must: return the stolen truth to the woman whose whole life was taken. And that marks the beginning of her own liberation.
Sometimes a single photograph can shatter the illusion of a happy life and expose a terrible reality. If this story made you think, like it, subscribe, and let us know in the comments whether you think Jamies actions could ever be justified.
