“Emma! We need to have a serious talk…”
My husband walked through the door, still in his coat and shoes, and blurted it out before even stepping properly inside. “Emma! We need to have a serious talk…” Then, without pausing for breath, his eyes wide as saucers, he rushed on: “I’ve fallen in love!”
*Well, well,* Emma thought. *So the midlife crisis has finally come knocking. Hello there…* But she kept quiet, fixing him with a looksomething she hadnt done properly in years.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when youre about to die. Well, Emmas whole marriage started replaying in her head instead. Theyd met the usual wayonline. Emma had shaved off three years from her age; her future husband had added three centimetres to his height. A bit of harmless fibbing, but it had just been enough to fit each others search criteria.
She couldnt remember who messaged first, but she knew his opening line had been free of sleaze and laced with self-deprecating humoursomething shed liked instantly. At thirty-three and with looks she knew were nothing special, she was realistic about her marital prospects. She wasnt quite at the back of the queue, but she wasnt far off either. So for their first date, shed bitten her tongue, kept her ears open, put on rose-tinted glasses (and lace lingerie), and tucked a homemade batch of biscuits and a battered copy of *Pride and Prejudice* into her handbag.
Surprisingly, the evening went smoothly (*so much for dressing the part*), and their romance took off at a dizzying pace. They got on so well that after six months of steady datingand relentless pressure from parents whod given up hope of ever seeing grandchildrenhe proposed.
They introduced their families in a hurry, agreed on a small wedding, and, being terrified someone might change their mind, booked the first available registry office slot.
Life together was good, Emma thought. Their marriage was like a temperate climateno scorching dramas, just steady warmth, respect, and comfort. Wasnt that happiness?
Her husband, being a typical bloke, had ditched his tight-fitting “sensitive-romantic-handyman” act within weeks of the wedding, revealing himself as what he really wasa straightforward, hardworking chap in comfy joggers.
Emma, being the more complicated of the two, had loosened the corset of her “demure-sexy-housewife-intellectual” persona more graduallyuntil pregnancy sped things up. Within a year, she, too, had shed the straining act with relief, slipping into a cosy dressing gown instead.
The fact that neither had run for the hills after dropping the pretence only confirmed to Emma that shed made the right choice. It strengthened her belief in what theyd built.
Raising two kids back-to-back had rocked the boat now and then, but theyd never capsized. After every storm, theyd steadied themselves and sailed on through married life.
Happy grandparents helped where they could. At work, theyd climbedslowly but surelyup the ladder. They travelled, pursued hobbies, made time for each other, all while staying firmly within the bounds of normal.
Twelve years married, and not once had her husband ever been caught cheatingor even flirting. Not that Emma was the jealous type; he couldve got away with it. She imagined him trying to charm someone and nearly laughedthe picture in her head was ridiculous.
Early on, after a few failed attempts at traditional compliments, hed given up and switched tactics. Now, he just staredwide-eyed, like a startled owlletting his expression do the talking. Over the years, Emma had learned to read his emotions by the size of his eyes: wild admiration, mild approval, surprise, confusion, outrage.
So she pictured him now, batting his eyelids at some *rat*, widening his eyes further and further
Her throat went dry. Smiling nervously, she croaked, “So whats her name, this rat of yours?”
His eyes practically popped out of his head. He fumbled, stammering, “Whhow did youhow on earthyou *knew* it was a rat? Bloody hell You shouldve seen herI took one look and couldnt resist. Shes perfect, soft, gorgeous just like you!”
From inside his coat, he pulled out a tiny grey rat with pink, translucent ears, a twitching pink nose, and beady black eyes.
