What are you talking about? Weve been married ten years! What lover? Ive got enough of you already!
Rebecca felt a cold shiver crawl under her skin. She could sense, as if through a secondhand coat, that James was keeping something from her. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and one night she finally gathered the courage to confront him directly.
Is it true or not? she asked, voice trembling.
James stared at her, his eyes flat, and snapped back:
What are you on about? Weve been married ten years! What lover? Ive got enough of you already!
It sounded honest, almost sincere. She saw no flaw in his smile, no lie in his words, no flicker in his gaze, yet a nagging doubt refused to leave her alone.
Rebecca was never one to sit back and hope fate would sort things out; she was determined to get to the bottom of the matter. But how?
She scoured advice forums online and decided the first step was to check Jamess phone. Apart from a few empty chats with former schoolmatesnothing that raised a flagthere was nothing unusual. Hed never set a password on his phone. What could he be hiding? she thought, as if he were an angel in flesh.
Sometimes she convinced herself she was overreacting, but every time James lingered late at work, a sour feeling settled in her stomach.
Her best friend, Claire, would always say:
Its just your imagination, Rebecca! James loves you and would never look away! Your suspicions are ruining everything!
Rebecca wouldnt listen. Something deep inside told her otherwise, and the thought of sharing James with another woman was utterly intolerable.
One afternoon she drove to his office, determined to watch him for herself. The moment James saw her standing in the reception, his face flushed with anger. Youre embarrassing me in front of the staff, he snapped. He apologized profusely later, and, surprisingly, she forgave him quickly.
On the surface their life seemed perfect. A tidy house, two growing children, a steady routine. Yet beneath the calm, Rebecca started looking for an escape, a thrill somewhere beyond the ordinary. As the old saying goes, He who seeks will find, but for her, the answer kept slipping away.
Like many women in their thirties, she feared ending up alone with the kids. She projected a placid exterior, but inside a storm roared. Nothing seemed to give James awayno new cologne, no changed wardrobe, no odd habitsbut she still sensed something off.
If it hadnt been for a chance encounter, Rebecca might never have uncovered the truth. Was it a figment of her imagination or a hardwon reality? The answer would soon surface.
When their younger son started primary school, Rebecca decided she wanted to learn to drive. She enrolled in a local driving school, attending evening lessons after work. Within three months she passed the test and earned her licence.
James was so proud that he bought her a small cara compact hatchback, perfect for her petite frame. He pretended he was buying it for practical reasons, but deep down he hoped she wouldnt ask to borrow his Audi. He warned her it was too early for her to be on the road, that she needed experience first.
One Saturday, before the house was even awake, Rebecca rose early, intending to surprise the family with a savoury aubergine and chicken pieone of Jamess favourites. She rummaged for flour, only to discover the pantry was empty.
Outside, the frost clung to the windows, a hard winter wind howling. Shed learned to drive in snowy conditions, so she set out to the corner shop. She got to the car, turned the key, and it refused to start. Frustrated, she trudged back inside, careful not to wake the sleeping children.
The cold made walking an unthinkable option, so she decided to take a risk: she would take Jamess car without asking. A short, twokilometre drive to the shop would go unnoticed.
She slipped the keys from the hall table, slipped back outside, and as the engine warmed she opened the windows to clear away the frost. Reaching into the glove compartmentshe knew it held napkinsher hand brushed against something that slipped onto the floor. She bent down and picked up a smartphone.
It wasnt the sleek black device she knew James used. The phone was a different make, a bright blue case, clearly not his. A rush of dread flooded her thoughtscould James have secretly taken a second phone? She hesitated, then pressed the power button.
The first thing that lit up was a message from a woman called Lucy:
My love, Ive missed you so much! Come to me soon! Im waiting!
Rebeccas heart hammered. No password protected the screen, so she scrolled through the conversation. The car warmed as she read.
The exchange was long, stretching nearly the length of a novel. It revealed that James worked until five each evening, then didnt get home until nine. Apparently, most nights he drove to Lucys house for an hour, then slipped back home as if nothing had happened. He wrote things to her that he never said to Rebecca.
A photo attached showed a middleaged womanaround fortystanding beside a garden gate. The caption read simply, Home sweet home.
Rebeccas fury erupted like a sudden storm. She was about to leave the car when she saw James stepping out of their apartment block, his briefcase in hand. She had left a note saying shed gone to the shop. He must have seized the moment to send another message to Lucy.
She remembered now how often James would head out to the car in the evenings, claiming hed forgotten his wallet or needed to run an errand. Hed disappear for hours, returning shortly after, leaving her none the wiser.
James spotted Rebecca behind the wheel and barreled straight toward her.
Who gave you permission? We didnt agree on this!
The words hit her like a blow. Anger flared brighter than ever. She slammed the car into reverse, gunned the accelerator, and the vehicle screeched into the rear fence of a garden wall. The metal crunched, a short, sharp release of tension.
She stepped out, eyes blazing, and shouted:
Go back to yours! Ill see how you manage without a house or a car! Stay away from my sight!
In a fit of defiance, she tossed the Audi keys into a pile of rubbish and stormed back inside.
Her two boys, still halfasleep, stared bewildered at the chaos erupting in the hallway. Moments later James tried the front door, but Rebecca had bolted it, refusing him entry.
Get out! Forget this road! she roared, her voice echoing through the house.
James, now in his slippers, a faded bathrobe, and a battered coat, trudged out into the cold, his pride bruised. He headed for Lucys flat, hoping for a warm welcome, but instead found the door shut tight.
Lucy opened the door, and a male voice called from within:
Darling, are you coming? Ive been waiting for you!
It turned out Lucy, too, had a lover of her ownher own secret partner, who visited on weekends. The revelation hit James like a sledgehammer. Lucy gave him a guilty look and slammed the door in his face.
Dejected, James walked back down the street, his steps heavy. He found his mothers house two streets over. Eleanor Whitaker, his mother, opened the door the moment she saw his dishevelled state, instantly understanding. She welcomed him, gave him tea, a hot sandwich, and listened as he poured out the story of a marriage gone sour.
She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said:
Dont worry, son. Who wouldve thought Rebecca would turn out like this? Youll find happiness again, even at thirtyfive. Love will find you one day, I promise.
James stayed with his mother, trying to rebuild his life from the ground up. For a while he felt relief at being free, until Rebecca filed for maintenance. Only then did the reality sink in: starting over would be far from easy. At least his mother hadnt abandoned him.
The drama unfolded, the house still stood, the children still played, and the town whispered about the tangled lives of Rebecca, James, and Lucy.
Stay tuned for the next chapter
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