I remember it as though it were a longago winter that never quite left the heart.
Emily, Ive been led astray by a fool, my husband begged, eyes pleading. I have no idea how I ended up here. Forgive me, I beg you! I swear Ill never speak to her again. If you wish Ill change my work. Shall we leave? Please dont abandon me
***
September greeted Eleanor with a crisp yet gentle sun. Yellow leaves spun at her feet, and the air smelled of damp earth and the promise of autumn. She hurriedly packed suitcases. Ahead lay a long journey to the Yorkshire Moors, where her mother, suddenly struck down by illness, waited.
At first it seemed a common cold, but a growing anxiety settled deep in Eleanors chest, tightening with each passing day. The doctors delivered a sudden, terrifying diagnosis that fell on her like an icy shower. Her husband, Charles, stayed behind; he could not accompany his wife. Eleanor had to make the only sensible choice: take her son, Harry, and fly straight to her mother. Thus began their bitter, exhausting struggle for every precious moment.
The first three months were a blur of endless doctor visits, endless tests, and frantic searches for a competent physician. Whenever a brief window opened, Eleanor would return home, only to feel that something had shifted. The house was still tidy, the hearth still warm, Charles still tried to keep the routine, yet Eleanors thoughts seemed forever anchored in Yorkshire. The home wasnt abandonedCharles maintained the familiar comfortsbut Eleanors focus had moved elsewhere.
Just as her mother steadied a little, Eleanor was forced to pack again. Harry, weary from flights and hospital corridors yet obedient, travelled with her. More planes, more doctors, hope that flickered then dimmed. By March there was a modest respite: her mother improved slightly, and Eleanor allowed herself a short break, returning home for a couple of weeks.
During that brief lull, the truth, like a stubborn weed, pushed its way into the light. Harry complained that his phone had slipped into the bath. Eleanor remembered a tip shed read in a womens magazineplace the device in a bowl of rice.
***
She retrieved the phone, turned it on. The screen lit up, showing an incoming message. Charles was dozing peacefully on the settee.
Harry, look, your phones working, Eleanor said, handing him the device.
He lazily scrolled through the notifications and froze.
Whats this? Eleanor leaned in, noticing his sudden stillness. Im falling more and more in love with you. What does that mean?
Charles sat bolt upright, clearing his throat to appear composed, though his hands trembled slightly.
Darling, youve got it all wrong, he blurted, its just a joke, a colleague at work is teasing. Were only fooling around
A joke? Eleanor crossed her arms, feeling a cold creep despite the warm room. Fooling around?
Im being honest, its nonsense. We just work together, nothing more.
You sure? Because such messages arent usually sent by just colleagues, she retorted, studying his face for any hint of deceit.
Im certain. Youre letting your mothers illness get to you. Lets leave this, go for a walk. The suns out, we need fresh air.
He pressed the idea of a stroll with such persistence that Eleanor, exhausted after three months of relentless stress, chose to step back. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, chalking it up to nerves and fatigue. They walked, but the uneasy calm faded quickly.
No sooner had they returned than another message from the same coworker arrived, this one far more explicit. A sting of jealousy shot through Eleanor, yet she decided to speak with Charles first, rather than launch into a scene.
Charles, look at what she sent now. This isnt a joke.
He took the phone, his face paling.
It its a mistake. Ill ask her to stop.
Youll write to her? Or should I? Eleanors voice trembled.
Eleanor, I love only you. Lets not make a mountain out of a molehill.
The cycle repeatedplane, mother, doctors, tests, hospital rooms. Harry remained the one constant amid the chaos. When her mothers condition eased a bit, Eleanor finally exhaled, catching another brief pause.
***
March came again, her mother a shade better, and Eleanor planned another trip home to try and regain balance. But balance never returned. A quick glance at a text thread that day kept gnawing at her. She could not simply forget those words.
She decided not to wait for another excuse and confronted Charles directly.
Charles, I need the truth. I cant keep living with vague explanations.
Ive told you everything! It was just a poorly timed joke. I dont understand why you keep bringing it up.
Because it unsettles me, Eleanor answered firmly.
Charles bristled.
Why are you stirring things up? Everythings already complicated
I spoke to your colleague, Eleanor said, her voice turning icecold, and she reached out herself.
He froze.
She wrote, Eleanor continued, looking straight into his eyes, Yes, I love you. Yes, we had something. What will you say to that, Charles?
He fell silent, his face turning ashen.
Leave, Eleanors voice shook with restrained emotion, pack your things and go.
No, he whispered, youre making a huge mistake! I never did anything with her. She fabricated everything, and you believed some madwoman!
I dont believe you! Eleanor snapped, pulling out her phone to show him the screenshot where the affair confessed everything. Look! This is your joke!
Charles bowed his head. An endless silence stretched. When he finally raised his gaze, guilt and desperation mingled there.
Fine. I slipped. I love only you, Eleanor, always have. Its true.
Slipped? Eleanor laughed bitterly, three years of lies in the face! How could you disrespect a person that way?
Its not a lie, I truly love you! Its just that you werent often around and I
Not often around? Only a coward would behave like that! she shouted, stepping back, Youre a coward!
But I didnt leave, Eleanor, I didnt abandon you! he reached for her hand, Were together
Eleanor withdrew her hand. Whether he stayed or left mattered little now; the pain he caused eclipsed everything else.
You didnt leave? she asked, bitterly, You tormented yourself between us, yet you didnt walk away
I couldnt! I love you!
Love? Eleanor shook her head, You didnt stay because you loved me, but because it was convenient. Im done dissecting your motives. I have to go. Mothers condition worsened.
Again the plane, again Yorkshire, again doctors, again the fightnow with the added weight of Charless betrayal.
***
Her mother passed in August. By New Years Eve Eleanor existed in a haze, mechanically performing daily chores. The house she once called a fortress now felt foreign. Harry was her anchor, the sole reason she didnt dissolve into endless gray.
When the first months of despair passed, she regained a vague sense of self, yet she never fully recovered. Every glance at Charles burned. She could not look at him, hear his voice, see his face. Still, she held on, driven by the need to care for Harry, who seemed to sense her turmoil.
Charles, realizing the depth of his error, attempted reconciliation. He stayed close, offered assistance, begged forgiveness, pleaded for a return to how things once were.
Eleanor, please, lets try again. I made a terrible mistake. I know that. But I never left when you went to Yorkshire. Isnt that proof of my love?
Her mind replayed the messages shed stumbled upon while cleaning her phone, words shed missed in the heat of distress now resurfacing with stark clarity.
You wrote to her, Youre my everything, she recalled, and the reply that haunted her:
Did I tell your wife everything right? Someone should have pushed her. Any other woman would have left, but you youre a rag!
Eleanor watched Harry playing with his building blocks in the corner, his concentration reminding her of her own childhoodbright, inquisitive, deserving a home free from lies.
Charles entered, holding two mugs of tea.
Here, a brew of herbal tea. Please, have a sip.
Eleanor took the mug but did not drink.
I cant, Charles
We agreedtime heals. Give us time. Ill do anything to earn your forgiveness.
Time? she smiled bitterly, Time showed how masterfully you can lie. You stayed because it became inconvenient to leave, not because I was your love. Her words prove it. She wrote to you, I told your wife everything correctly.
It was foolish of her! I told her it was over, I banned her!
You didnt ban her, Charles. You simply chose the easier story to spare me a collapse.
Eleanor inhaled deeply.
I cannot forgive. Not now, maybe never. But I must live, and Harry must live. Well part for a while. Ill send him to his aunt for a fortnight, and Ill stay with a friend. I need to figure out what I want next.
Charles went pale, understanding this was not a mere pause but a genuine threat of loss.
Eleanor, dont do this. Please. Ill see a therapist, any specialist. Ill quit my job if I must. Just dont go.
Im not leaving you, Charles. Im leaving the lie, she whispered, I cant love you now, and I wont live in deceit any longer. Well speak when I returnif I ever return.
***
She never returned. For two months they lived apart, and then Eleanor decided the family would not survive, even for Harrys sake. Charles changed jobs, cut ties with the other woman. Yet Eleanor knows that the young girl will forever linger in both their memories, a ghost she can never reconcile with. And so it remains, unforgotten, a wound that never truly heals.
