Im stuck with you, love, the bloke pleaded, eyes wide. I swear I didnt plan any of this. Please forgive me, I beg you! I promise Ill never speak to her again. Ill even change jobs if you want. Shall we leave? Just dont ditch me
***
September greeted Poppy with a crisp but still gentle sun. Yellow leaves spun around her feet, and the air smelled of damp earth and the promise of autumn. She was hurriedly throwing clothes into suitcases. Ahead lay a long trek up to the Lake District, where her mother lay bedridden with a sudden illness.
At first it seemed a simple bout of the flu, but an unease settled deep in Poppys chest, growing each day. The doctors delivered a bleak diagnosis that hit her like a cold splash of water. Her husband, James, stayed at home he couldnt accompany her. So Poppy made the only sensible choice: grab their son and fly straight to her mother. Thus began their grueling, exhausting battle against precious time
The first three months were a blur of endless doctor visits, lab tests and frantic hunts for a competent physician. Whenever a tiny window opened, Poppy would dash home, but a feeling that something had shifted lingered. The house was still tidy, the fireplace still crackling, James still trying to keep the routine, yet Poppys mind seemed stuck in the Lake District. The home wasnt abandoned James kept up the cosy vibe, but Poppys focus had been pulled elsewhere.
Just as her mum began to stabilise, Poppy was forced to pack again. Their son, a bit weary from flights and hospital corridors but obedient, rode along. More planes, more doctors, more hope that kindled then fizzed out. By March, there was a slight breather: mum felt a tad better and Poppy managed a short twoweek return home.
It was during that brief lull that a persistent truth, like a stubborn weed, poked its head. Tommy complained that his phone had taken a dive into the bath. Poppy recalled a lifehack from a womens magazine to bury the gadget in a bowl of rice.
***
She fished the smartphone out, switched it on. The screen lit up with a new message. James was snoozing peacefully on the couch.
Tommy, look, your phones back on Poppy said, handing it over.
He lazily flicked through notifications and froze.
Whats this? Poppy leaned in, noticing his stiff posture Im falling for you more and more. What does that even mean?
James sat bolt upright, clearing his throat, trying to look unruffled, though his hands trembled a touch.
Love, youve got it wrong, he blurted, its just a joke, a colleague at work was having a laugh. Were a bit mischievous sometimes
A joke? Poppy crossed her arms, feeling a chill despite the warm flat youre kidding?
Im being serious, its nonsense. We just work together, nothing more.
Are you sure? Because messages like that arent usually signed just a colleague, Poppy retorted, scanning his face for any hint of deceit.
Absolutely. Youre overthinking it because of mums illness. Lets drop it, go for a walk. The suns out, we need some fresh air.
He was so eager to change the subject that Poppy, exhausted from three months of nonstop stress, simply gave in. She chalked it up to nerves and fatigue. They stepped out, but the uneasy calm didnt last long.
No sooner had they returned than another message from the same colleague popped up, this time far more explicit. A pang of jealousy stabbed Poppy, but she decided to confront James first, not to stage a fullblown scene.
Tommy, look at what she just sent. This isnt a joke.
James snatched the phone, his face paling.
Its its a mistake. Ill tell her to stop.
Youll write to her? Or should I do it? Poppys voice wavered.
Poppy, I love only you. Lets not make a drama out of nonsense.
Then the cycle resumed: another flight, another stint with mum, doctors, blood tests, hospital rooms. Their son remained the sole constant in the chaos. Mums condition eased a bit, granting Poppy a fleeting sigh of relief.
***
March rolled in. Mum felt a shade better, and Poppy managed another trip home to try and rebalance. Yet balance proved elusive. A string of SMSes she skimmed that day kept nagging at her. She couldnt simply brush away those words.
Poppy decided not to wait for another excuse and asked James straight what was going on.
Tommy, I need the truth. I cant live with your vague explanations.
Love, Ive already explained! It was just a badtimed joke. I dont see why youre digging it up again.
Because it gnaws at me, Poppy answered firmly.
James tightened his shoulders.
Poppy, why are you making a mountain out of a molehill? Everythings already a mess
I spoke to your colleague, Poppy said, voice turning icy she actually got in touch herself.
James froze.
She wrote Poppy continued, staring him dead in the eye Yes, I love you. Yes, we had something. What do you have to say to that, James?
He stayed silent, his face turning ashen.
Leave, her voice trembled with suppressed fury pack your things and go.
No, he whispered, youre making a huge mistake! I had nothing with her. She fabricated everything, and you fell for some lunatic!
I dont believe you! Poppy snapped, thrusting the phone forward to show a screenshot of the incriminating chat Heres your joke!
James lowered his head. An eternity of silence stretched on. When he finally looked up, guilt and desperation swirled in his eyes.
Fine. I slipped up. I love you, I always have, Poppy. Thats the truth.
Slipped up? Poppy laughed bitterly three years of lies straight to the face! How do you even disrespect someone like that?
Its not a lie, I truly love you! Its just that you werent often around and I
Not being around? Thats cowardice! Poppy shouted, stepping back youre a coward!
But I never left, Poppy, I never abandoned you! he tried to grab her hand were still together
She pulled away. Whether he stayed or left no longer mattered; the pain he caused eclipsed everything else.
You didnt abandon me? she asked, sourly you were torn between us, but you didnt walk away
I couldnt! I love you!
Love? Poppy shook her head no, you stayed because it was convenient, not because you loved me. Im done analysing your motives. I have to go. Mums condition worsened.
Another plane. Another trip to the Lake District. More doctors, more wards. Now Poppy carried not only her mothers illness but also the weight of Jamess betrayal
***
Mum passed away in August. By New Years Eve, Poppy moved through life like a daze, mechanically ticking off daily tasks. The house she once called a fortress now felt foreign. Their son was her anchor, the only thing keeping her from dissolving into endless grey.
When the first months of despair faded, she woke up a little, yet never fully recovered. Every glance at James seared. She could not bear to see his face, hear his voice. Still, she held onfor the sake of their son, who seemed to sense his mothers turmoil.
James, finally grasping the depth of his misdeed, tried to mend things. He stayed close, offered help, begged forgiveness, pleaded for a fresh start.
Poppy, please, lets try again. I made a terrible mistake. I know. But I never left when you went to Mums. Isnt that proof of my love?
Her mind replayed the messages shed glimpsed while cleaning her phone. The words shed missed in the heat of panic now resurfaced with stark clarity:
Youre my everything, hed written to the other woman.
And her reply, etched into memory:
Did I tell your wife everything? Someone shouldve pushed her. Any other woman wouldve left, but you youre a rag!
Poppy watched her son build a tower of blocks in the corner, his concentration reminding her of herself as a childbright, clever, undeserving of a home built on lies.
James entered with two mugs of tea.
Here, a nice herbal brew. Have a sip.
Poppy took the mug but didnt drink.
I cant, James
Love, we agreed time heals. Give us time. Ill do anything to earn your forgiveness.
Time? she gave a bitter smile time showed youre a master liar. You stayed because leaving was inconvenient, not because Im your love. Her words prove it. She wrote youd told her everything.
That was stupid of her! I banned her, I said it was over!
You didnt forbid her, James. You just chose the easier line to keep me from falling apart.
Poppy inhaled deeply.
I cant forgive you. Not now. Maybe never. But I have to live. And our son has to live. Well separate for a while. Ill take him to his aunt for a couple of weeks, Ill stay with a friend. I need to figure out what I want next.
James turned a pallid shade. He realised this wasnt a pause; it was a real chance of losing everything.
Poppy, dont do this. Please. Ill see a therapist, any specialist. Ill quit my job if I must. Just dont go.
Im not leaving you, James. Im leaving the lies, she whispered I cant love you now, and living in a lie is something I wont tolerate any longer. Well talk when Im back. If I ever come back
***
Poppy never did. Two months apart, then she finally decided the family wouldnt survive, not even for their son. James changed jobs, cut off the affair. Yet Poppy knows that the young woman will linger in his and her memory forever, and shes not ready to accept that. Never.
