“Honestly, people make mistakes, it happens,” he said.
“Oh, give it a rest! That Natalies not even in the picture anymore, and youre still jealous and nagging me. Emma, enough already! Weve got real things to sort outlike Sophie.”
Emma raised her eyebrows, stunned. She stayed silent for a moment, wondering if shed misheard. Any second now, she thought, hed start blaming her for his own affair.
“Oliver, youve got the wrong door. My priorities are different now. The only real issue I care about is divorcing you.”
“Divorce?!” he spluttered. “For Gods sake, weve been fine all this time! Nearly a decades gone by. Wed have carried on just fine if you hadnt found out. What difference does it make now?”
“It changes everything,” Emma said, looking him dead in the eye. “All those years, I was living in lies and illusions. And now youre acting like thats just how things should be.”
His stubbornness was just as infuriating as the betrayal itself. Shed known Oliver for over twenty-five years. She knew how he frowned when criticised, how he pursed his lips when upset. But this? This was something new. It was like she was seeing him for the first time.
“What illusions? I loved you all that time. Still do. That other thing” He waved a hand dismissively. “That was ages ago. Might as well not have happened.”
Hard to pretend it never happened when there was an eight-year-old girl left behind. Now Oliver saw it as his noble duty to bring her into their home. The alternative? His aging mum, who could barely look after herself. Foster care wasnt an optionhe insisted, like some gallant knight, that his children shouldnt grow up without parents.
Emma couldnt forgive the cheating. Shed grown up in a family built on trust. Her dad was a homebody, her mum loved travellingshed pack up and head to Cornwall on a whim. Dad would see her off at the station with a smile, never once suspicious. Mum did the same when he went on work tripskissed him, handed him a tin full of biscuits, tucked a little keepsake in his pocket.
Sure, they argued. Mum might raise her voice, slam a door; Dad might go quiet for days. But they never doubted each others loyalty. Even at parties, after a few pints, hed only have eyes for her.
For Emma, that was the model. Love meant trust. No trust? Then what was the point?
Life with Oliver hadnt been bad. Once, theyd been comfortable together. The only issue was kids.
“Em, whats the rush? Let me get a proper job first, secure our future, then well think about kids,” hed say, five years in.
“Were not getting any younger. Im thirty, Oliver. Do you want our kid to have grandparents for parents?” shed grumble.
So she waited. But the “proper job” never came, and her biological clock didnt stop. At thirty-eight, she had their son. Now he was twelve.
Oliver took up contract work up north to support themthree months away, one month home. He was exhausted but brought in good money. Emma missed him but saw it as an investment in their future.
She didnt know he wasnt exactly patient.
“What did you expect? Three months alone. It barely even countedjust a bit of loneliness. Doesnt mean anything,” hed explained when she found out.
“Loneliness?!” shed snapped. “Funny how I never had a queue of men at my door. Are we made of different stuff?”
“Well, youre a womanits not the same for you.”
Maybe they were different. To him, it was a slip-uplike sneaking an extra biscuit. To her, it erased everything good between them.
She wouldnt even have known if tragedy hadnt struck. If Oliver hadnt casually brought home plans for Sophie, like discussing a grocery list.
“See, Oliver” Emma said, snapping back to the present. “I dont even blame the girl. If you strip it all away, shes just a kid in a bad spot. But you? I dont want to live with you.”
He scoffed.
“Whats got into you? Fine, well talk in the morning. Thingsll look clearer then.”
Come morning, he brought in reinforcementshis mum, Margaret. She had skin in the game: if Emma refused, Sophie was her problem. So of course, she piled on the guilt.
“Emma, love, think of the girl! Shell be a blessing when youre older. Boys leave the nest, girls stick around. Maybe its a blessing in disguise? Too late for you to have another, and heres one ready-made!”
“Margaret, I cant do it. I wont love her. How could I look at her every day?”
“Oh, rubbish! Youll adjust. Plenty of women marry widowers with kids! Or adopt! Think of all those war storiesThe Soldiers Son!”
Emma exhaled sharply. One thought cheating had an expiry date; the other compared it to a wartime novel. Meanwhile, Emma felt like shed been living someone elses life, blind to the shadow over theirs.
“Margaret, thats all lovely, but those people chose it. I never agreed to betrayal.”
“But the girls innocent!”
“And so am I.”
They talked for hours, but no middle ground was found. To Margaret, it was a hiccup. To Emma, it was the end.
So that evening, she didnt open the door. She left Olivers bag in the hallway, bolted the lock, and turned on her favourite show. Of course she was a wreckbut after this, calm was gone anyway. He didnt even get what hed done. Didnt apologise. Or maybe he was playing dumb.
By seven, keys jangled in the lock. Then came the knocking.
“Emma, I know youre there! Open up! Youre acting like a child!”
“Yeah. And youre the grown man who fathered kids across the country,” she shot back, leaning on the hallway table. “You wanted a decision? Here it is. Raise your daughter with your mum. Suits you both just fine.”
“Dont be daft! So I slipped upwho hasnt?”
“Me. I havent, Oliver. Take Sophie and go. Betrayal doesnt have a best-before date.”
“At least let me say goodbye to Jack!”
“So you can upset him too?” She nearly refusedthen relented. “Fine. But Im not opening that door.”
“Twenty-five years, and now Im locked out…” he whined.
Emma didnt listen. She went to Jacks room. Hed been quiet all evening. Hed seen her packing Olivers things but asked nothing. The shouting lately hadnt escaped him.
Even a kid knew where this was headed.
“Jack, your dad wants to say goodbye.”
Jack didnt look up from his homework.
“Dont want to.”
“You sure?” she asked softly, stepping closer.
She braced for blamefor not keeping his dad. Or worse, him choosing Oliver. But
“Im sure. He used to be my hero. Thought he sacrificed so much for us. Now? I dont want to see him, Mum.”
Emma sighed, hugged him. His words lifted a weight.
“Im sorry I couldnt keep us together.”
“He lost the family, not you,” Jack said, hugging her back. “Im staying with you.”
Oliver was stunned when she told him. He hammered the door, begging to “talk properly,” but eventually left.
Bitterness gnawed at Emmabut relief washed over it. Shed drawn the line. Made her choice. Self-respect mattered more than a hollow “happy family.” And thankfully, her son wasnt anything like his father.
