Im pulling a coat from the hallway rack when my hand brushes a thick piece of paper in the pocket of Andrews blazer. I unfold the envelope and find two airline tickets to the Caribbean. I stare at the details: the outbound flight is in two weeks, the return in ten days, business class. The first ticket bears Andrews name, Andrew Sutherland, and the second reads Eleanor Sutherland.
My heart stutters. Eleanor? There is no Eleanor Sutherland in our family. I slump onto the edge of the bed, the tickets clenched in my fist. Twentyfive years of marriage and suddenly theres an Eleanor.
Could it be a mistake? A typo? I think, but the name on the second ticket is printed clearly, no misspelling. It isnt my name, Emily Sutherland, but some Eleanor.
I slip the tickets back into the envelope and return it to the blazer pocket. My hands shake, my throat is dry. I need to calm down. Andrew will be home from work in an hour, and I have to decide what to do.
I drift into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of tea, and sit by the window. In twentyfive years weve had our share of spats, misunderstandings, cold stretches. But cheating? I have never entertained that thought. Andrew has always seemed reliable and faithful. We met while hiking a group up Ben Nevis, shared trips to the Lake District, the Scottish Highlands, and even a seaside holiday in Cornwall three years ago. After we married, we still travelled, though less often as work and responsibilities piled up.
The last time we vacationed together was a twoweek stay in Cornwall. I remember Andrew promising that next summer wed go abroad, but then my project rushed ahead, then his, and the plan fell through. Now he appears to be heading to the Caribbeanwithout me.
I grab my phone and dial Olivia, an old friend.
Oi, Liv, can you talk? my voice trembles.
Emily? Whats wrong? Olivias tone is instantly alert.
Ive found two Caribbean tickets in Andrews pocketone for him, one for a woman named Eleanor Sutherland.
Theres a pause, then Olivia asks cautiously, Could it be a work trip?
A work trip to the Caribbean? And why would an Eleanor be listed as Sutherland? I reply, a bitter smile forming.
Sounds odd, Olivia agrees. What are you going to do?
I dont know. Maybe wait until he explains? He might have a reason.
What if he doesnt? Olivia presses gently. Youve been together forever, but people change, especially men at this age.
Andrew isnt like that, I say stubbornly, though doubt gnaws at me.
Everyone says that until reality hits, Olivia sighs. Why not just show him the tickets and ask for the truth?
And if he lies?
Youve lived with him twentyfive years. Youll know when hes lying.
I pause, considering. We do read each other, or so I thought.
Alright, Ill think about it, I say, ending the call.
Memories swirl: Andrew staying late at the office, sudden important meetings on weekends, his new shirts, expensive cologne, a fresh cut at a trendy barber. He used to be indifferent to all that.
I shake off the spiralling thoughts. I need facts, not fantasies. I head to Andrews study, a place I rarely intrude on out of respect for his privacy, but the situation forces me.
The room is tidy, as always. I sit at his desk, type the passwordour wedding dateinto his computer. Opening his email feels guilty, but I scan through. Nothing suspicious: work correspondence, newsletters, a note from an old university mate.
Then I check his browsing history. A quick scroll reveals searches for best Caribbean resorts for couples, romantic Caribbean getaway, and gift ideas for a beloved woman in the Caribbean. The last query reads present for my beloved woman on the Caribbean trip.
A cold breath catches in my chest. Beloved womannot wife.
I close the browser, shut down the PC, and fight back tears. I cant let Andrew see me crying.
When Andrew walks in, the scent of his aftershave fills the hall. He drops his coat, kisses my cheek, and asks, Whats for dinner? Smells delicious.
Mushroom casserole, your favourite, I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
He grins, Great, Im starving. He heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.
We eat, chatting about the weather, the news, weekend plans. I watch him, looking for any sign of guilt. He talks about work, asks about my day, jokes.
So any trips coming up? I ask, pouring tea.
Nothing set yet, he shrugs. Why?
Just thinking maybe we could get away somewhere together. Its been ages.
He looks at me oddly, as if weighing a response, then says, Yes, its been a long time. We should plan something.
A knot tightens in my chest. Hes lying, right now, looking straight at me.
What about the Caribbean? I probe, trying to sound casual. Ever thought of going?
He flinches just a fraction, enough for me to notice. The Caribbean? Why that?
Just an example, I say, shrugging. People say its beautiful.
He averts his gaze. Im not sure, probably too pricey and far.
My mind screams, Lies, lies.
Whos Eleanor? I blurt out suddenly.
He freezes, tea cup halfway to his lips. What Eleanor?
Eleanor Sutherland. Do you know her?
He stammers, From where Emily, whats happening?
I stand, fetch his blazer, pull the envelope from the pocket, and place it on the table.
I found this today while doing laundry. Explain, please.
He looks at the tickets as if seeing them for the first time, then meets my eyes.
Emily, its not what you think.
What do you think Im thinking? I ask quietly. That youre flying to the Caribbean with another woman? That twentyfive years mean nothing to you?
No, thats not it! he snaps, standing abruptly. Everythings different!
How? I demand, tears finally spilling. Who is Eleanor? Why are you lying to me?
He steps toward me, tries to hug me, but I step back. Dont. Just tell me the truth.
He sighs heavily. Alright. The truth is I messed up. I booked these tickets a month ago for us, for our silver wedding. I wanted it to be a surprise.
I stare at the screen of his laptop. He pulls up an email from a travel agency showing two tickets for Andrew and Emily Sutherland, and a note: Dear Mr Sutherland, an error occurred when printing the tickets. Your spouses name was entered incorrectly. We apologise and will issue corrected tickets within three business days. The email is dated this morning.
Why does the ticket say Eleanor? I ask, voice trembling.
He scrolls down. See here: Dear Mr Sutherland, an error occurred when processing the booking. The name of your spouse was entered incorrectly. New tickets will be sent shortly. I didnt have time to tell you before you found them.
I read the message again, disbelief flooding me.
So these tickets are for us? I whisper.
Yes, for us! he grabs my hands. Ive been planning this surprise for our silver anniversary. Ive been saving, choosing a resort, everything. I just wanted it to be a secret.
But why keep silent? And where did Eleanor come from?
Because I wanted the surprise, he admits, smiling sheepishly. I have no idea how the system mixed up the names. It must have paired my booking with another couples.
I look at him, trying to process. Had I imagined the whole drama?
Im sorry, I say softly. I look foolish.
No, I understand. It must have looked terrible. He rubs my cheek. Did you really think Id be with another woman?
I wasnt sure, I admit. Youve changed latelynew shirts, fresh haircut, staying late. I let my mind wander.
Ive been taking extra projects to fund the trip, he explains. I wanted to look presentable for you, for the Caribbean.
Shame reddens my face. Im sorry for doubting you.
He pulls me into a tight hug. You havent ruined anything. The surprise may have flopped, but were still going together. You want the Caribbean, right?
With you, anywhere, I manage a smile through the tears.
That night I lie awake, listening to Andrews steady breathing, thinking how easily a single doubt can crumble years of trust. One mistake, one misread name, and everything could have shattered like a house of cards.
In the morning, after Andrew leaves for work, I call the travel agency listed in the email. A friendly operator confirms the name mixup and promises that corrected tickets will be delivered by courier today.
Do you know where the name Eleanor came from? I ask.
The system glitches sometimes when its overloaded, especially during big promotions, she explains. We had a lot of Caribbean bookings that day, so data got crossed.
I thank her and hang up, feeling a weight lift off my chest. The baseless suspicion evaporates like morning fog.
That evening, Andrew returns to find the table set with candles and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.
What are we celebrating? he asks, surprised.
Us, I say simply. And our upcoming trip.
He smiles, pulls out the envelope, and says, By the way, here are the new ticketsnow definitely in our names.
I open it and see two tickets addressed to Andrew Sutherland and Emily Sutherland.
Thank you, I say, meeting his eyes. For everything.
And thank you for believing in me, he replies earnestly. For the past twentyfive years and the next twentyfive ahead.
We clink glasses as snow falls outside, blanketing the town in white, while the flat sits warm and cosy. I look at Andrew and feel grateful. Sometimes happiness is fragile; one misstep can threaten it, but honesty can mend it.
Two weeks later we board a flight to the Caribbean. As the plane climbs, Andrew takes my hand.
I was scared youd say no to the trip, he admits. You never like surprises.
I love you, I answer. Everything else doesnt matter.
He squeezes my hand, and we both smile, watching the endless sky through the windowvast as our love, now tested and proven.
Back home, in Andrews desk drawer, another envelope sits. Inside is a diamond ringa gift for the silver wedding, intended for a sunset on the beach. He plans to give it to me as the sun dips into the ocean, certain this surprise will finally land.
