June82026
Dear Diary,
Its been ten years since Emily and I said I do, yet today she burst into the kitchen shouting, What are you talking about? Weve been married a decade! Whos this other woman? Im more than enough for you! She could feel, as if through skin, that I was being unfaithful. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and finally she confronted me outright.
She asked, Is it true? I simply replied, What are you talking about? Weve been married ten years! Whos this lover? Youre all I need! It sounded honest enough, and she didnt spot any deceit in my smile, my words, or my eyes, but something still kept her uneasy.
Emily isnt one to leave things to fate; she resolved to uncover the truth. After scanning advice forums, she first decided to check my mobile. The device held nothing more than idle chatter with a couple of old schoolmatesnothing that set off alarms. Id never set a password, so there was nothing to hide. No secret chats, no distant messagesjust a clean slate, like an angel in flesh.
Sometimes she wondered whether she was imagining things, yet every time I lingered late at work she felt a knot forming. Her friend often said, Its just your imagination, James loves you and would never look elsewhere! Your doubts are ruining everything. Emily ignored that, her gut insisting otherwise. She refused to imagine me sharing a bed with anyone else.
One afternoon she mustered the courage to follow me to the office, hoping to catch me in the act. The moment I saw her, I bristled, embarrassed to be seen by the staff. I apologized profusely, and she eventually forgave me, though the tension lingered.
On the surface our life seemed fine: a tidy terraced house in Leeds, two kids growing up, a comfortable routine. Yet Emily kept seeking excitement elsewhere, as if chasing a fifthhour thrill. He who searches always finds, they say, but she hadnt struck gold yet.
She worried, as many women in their thirties do, about ending up alone with two children. Outwardly she appeared calm, but inside a storm raged. I noticed nothingno lipstick on my shirt, no foreign perfume, no change in my styleyet she sensed something amiss.
If not for a chance encounter, Emily might never have uncovered the reality. Would it be a fabrication or truth? Time would tell.
When our younger son started Year1, Emily decided she wanted to drive. She enrolled in a local driving school, attending evening classes after work. Within three months she passed the test and earned her licence. Proud of her, I bought a small hatchbacknothing fancy, but perfect for her petite frame and easy to park.
I didnt admit it, but I bought the car to keep her from pestering me about rides. Youre still too young to drive, Id tell her, you need experience first. And thats how it went.
One Saturday, Emily woke earlier than usual, planning to bake a savoury eggplantandchicken pie for the family. With the frost still biting the streets, she wanted to dash to the shop. She stepped out, tried to start the car, and it refused. The house was still quiet; the children slept. Not wanting to wake anyone, she slipped back inside, then, thinking it harmless, decided to take my car without permission for a short spin.
She fetched the keys, turned the engine over, and while it warmed up she opened the windows and rummaged in the glovebox for a tissue. Her hand brushed something and a phone slipped onto the floor. It wasnt my number. Curiosity getting the better of her, she switched it on.
The first message read: Darling, I miss you so much! Come see me soon, Im waiting! It was from a woman named Olivia. No password protected the phone, so Emily began scrolling through the messages.
The thread was longfar longer than a days worth of conversation. It revealed that I regularly left work at five, didnt get home until seven, and often spent an hour with Olivia before returning, as if nothing had happened. Photos showed a woman in her early forties, a stranger to me.
Emilys anger flared. She had just stepped out of the car when she saw me returning from the driveway. Id left a note saying Id gone to the shop, likely intending to send Olivia another message. She recalled how often Id come home late, claiming Id forgotten my wallet or something else.
Seeing me in the drivers seat, she slammed the brakes, put the car into reverse, and crashed it into the back fence. The impact startled me, and she shouted, You never asked permission! This isnt how we agreed to live!
Her fury drove her to toss the keys of my Audi onto the lawn and storm out. Our boys, still halfasleep, didnt understand the chaos. I tried to get back inside, but shed locked the door.
Leave! Forget this house! she yelled, sending me out in my slippers, housecoat, and jacket. I trudged to Olivias flat, hoping for some refuge, only to find the door opened by her mother, Marina, who greeted me with a weary smile.
Marina, having lived two streets away, took me in, fed me, and listened as I lamented my bad wife whod driven me from my own home. She patted my shoulder and said, Dont worry, lad. Who could have guessed your Em would turn out like that? Youll find love again; youre only thirtyfive. Theres a bright future ahead.
So I returned to my mothers house, resolved to rebuild my life. I felt a strange relief at being free, though Emily soon filed for maintenance. Only then did I realise that starting over isnt as simple as it sounds. At least my mother didnt abandon me completely; otherwise, I might have vanished altogether.
**Lesson:** Trust, once shattered, is hard to mend, and honesty must be the foundation of any partnership. If you ignore the quiet warnings of those you love, you may lose everything you think you own.