For three Saturdays in a row, Emily had left for “work.” What I saw changed everything.
“You’re staying late again?” James tried to keep his voice steady, but it betrayed him with a slight tremble.
Emily froze, her hand gripping her bag. She turned slowly, as if buying time.
“Yeah, the projects a mess. The boss is losing iteveryones running around.”
“On a Saturday? For the third week?”
“James, dont be childish. Work is work.”
She kissed his cheekquick, formal, like a neighbour in a lift. She didnt smell like her usual perfume. Something sweet, milky, like baby lotion. James frowned.
“Em, can we talk?”
“Later. Everything later, alright?”
The door slammed. James stood in the hallway, fists clenched. Three Saturdays. Three bloody Saturdays of Emily leaving at dawn and returning exhausted, silent, a stranger.
He couldnt take it anymore. Grabbing the car keys, he rushed out.
Emily glanced around as she stepped outside. James ducked behind the wheelthankfully parked behind a van. She hailed a cab. He started the engine.
The drive was long. Not to her officehe knew that straight away. A sleepy suburb on the other side of London. His heart pounded. Hed see for himself now.
Emily stepped out near a worn-out block of flats. James parked further down, following on foot. She disappeared inside. He waited, counting floors. Third storey, left window.
Half an hour passed. Then Emily reappearednot alone.
With a pram.
James nearly stumbled. A baby? They didnt have childrentheyd talked about it, but not seriously, not since these Saturdays began
The baby wailed. Emily rocked the pram awkwardly, murmuring. She looked flustered, unsure. Then a younger woman dashed outJames recognised Emilys sister, Lily. The reckless Lily, whod been married and divorced twice by twenty-five.
“Em, thanks! Ill be quicktwo hours max!”
“Lily, you said one!”
“Please, Em! I really need this!”
Lily vanished, leaving Emily with the screaming infant. Helplessly, she pushed the pram back and forth.
James leaned against a wall around the corner. So, not an affair. A nephew. But why the secrecy? Why the lies?
He drove home, needing to beat Emily back. Needing to think.
Pacing the flat, he considered just asking. “Em, where were you?” But shed liehe knew it. Just as hed been lying.
Because he had a secret too.
Charlotte. A colleague from another department. Nothing seriousjust coffees after work, sometimes a film. She laughed at his jokes, listened to him ramble about spreadsheets, looked at him the way Emily used to. Before their life became “buy bread,” “pay the bills,” “pick up your socks.”
With Charlotte, it was easy. She reminded him of the Emily hed fallen for seven years agobright, carefree, hanging on his every word.
The key turned in the lock. James grabbed the remote, flicked on the telly.
“Hey,” Emily peered in. “Youve been home all day?”
“Yep. Couldnt be bothered to go out.”
She moved to the kitchen. James heard water running, dishes clinking. He followed.
Emily stood at the sink, scrubbing a mug. Her shoulders sagged, shadows under her eyes. A stain on her jeansbaby formula, maybe.
“Em.”
“What?”
“Youre exhausted.”
She turned, surprised.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Lets go out. That Italian place we went to for our anniversary?”
“James, Im shattered. Lets just order pizza?”
He nodded, watching her fumble with her phone. Her hands shook.
“Em, whats going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Youve been different. For weeks.”
She froze. The phone slipped onto the table.
“Its just work, James. A lot of work.”
“On Saturdays?”
“Yes! On Saturdays! Why the third degree?”
Her voice cracked. James saw tears welling. He hugged her. She stiffened, then melted, face buried in his shoulder.
“Sorry. Im just so tired.”
She smelled of baby powder and something sourspit-up, probably. James rubbed her back, feeling her heartbeat race.
“Em, if somethings wrong, tell me. Im not a stranger.”
She pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Its fine. Really. Just a rough patch. Itll pass.”
The pizza arrived forty minutes later. They ate in silence, avoiding each others eyes. Emily showered; James stared at his cold slice.
He could say it. “Em, I saw you with a pram. Lilys kid?” But then hed admit hed followed her. And shed ask, “Where were you on those Friday nights?”
What would he say? That he sat in cafés with another woman? That he told her things he no longer told his wife? That sometimes he wondered
His phone buzzed. A text from Charlotte: “Still on for Monday? Want to show you that film.”
James deleted it. No. They wouldnt meet. Enough.
Emily emerged in a towel, hair damp. She sat beside him.
“James, lets stay in tomorrow. Just us.”
“What about work?”
“Blow work.”
He smiled. When had she last said that?
“Alright. Just us.”
She took his hand. Her fingers were cold, despite the hot shower.
“We lost something, didnt we?”
“What?”
“Us. We lost us.”
James squeezed her hand.
“Well find it.”
They woke late. Emily made pancakesfirst time in a year. James brewed coffee, sliced fruit. They breakfasted on the balcony, chilly but cheerful.
“Remember our breakfast in Edinburgh?” Emily said. “On that tiny terrace?”
“Where you nearly dropped a cup on someones head?”
“I did not! It was perfectly balanced!”
They laughed. How long since theyd laughed together?
The day felt oddlike playing newlyweds. They watched telly curled up on the sofa, cooked together (James chopped, Emily stirred), avoided talk of work or money. Just the here and now.
That evening, Emily dozed on his shoulder. James studied her facerelaxed, peaceful. The frown line gone. She looked like the girl whod spilled coffee on him seven years ago. “Sorry! Let me pay for dry-cleaning! Oror buy you another coffee?”
Hed bought her one instead. Then another. Then dinner. Then a ring.
Emily murmured in her sleep. James tucked a blanket around her.
On Monday, he went to Charlotte.
“Hi! Thought you forgot about the film”
“Charlie, we need to talk.”
Her face fell. Smart girlshe knew.
“Your wife?”
“Yes. No. I mean I cant do this.”
“James, nothing even happened.”
“Exactly. And it wont. Im sorry.”
She nodded, turned to her screen.
“Go. Just go.”
Leaving, his chest felt heavy and light. The right choice. Long overdue.
Emily wasnt home. A note on the fridge: “Back by seven. Dinner in the oven.”
James reheated the meal, set the table. Emily arrived on time but twitchy.
“James, I need to tell you something.”
He stilled. Now. Now shed say it.
“Lily has a son. Four months old. The dad left when he found out. Shes aloneno job, no money. Ive been helping. Watching him while she interviews. Or just breathes. Im sorry I lied. Thought youd hate it.”
“Why would I?”
“Well we want kids. And Im looking after hers. Giving her money sometimesmy own wage,” she added hastily.
James stood, hugged her.
“Silly woman. Of course you help. Shes your sister.”
Emily sobbed into his chest.
“Im so tired of lying. Making up where Ive been.”
“No more lies.”
He thought of Charlotte. Of his own deceit. But this was different. It was nothing. Just chats. Just
“James, do you have secrets?”
His heart skipped.
“No. Well Em, sometimes I wasnt at work. Id be at the pub with mates. Just a pint, a chat. Home felt bleak.”
Not the full truth. But not a lie. Charlotte had been there sometimes.
“Bleak,” Emily repeated. “Yeah. I get that.”
They held each other in the kitchen, then ate. Talked about the nephewOliver, apparently. Lily landing a retail job. Visiting properly soon.
“Hey,” James said suddenly. “Lets have one of our own.”
Emily looked up.
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. No
