**”Hope You’re Ready for Life Without Him”**
Emma set her umbrella in the stand and shook the rain from her coat. “You shouldve seen the queue at the GPs today,” she sighed. “Three hours just to get a ten-minute chat about my blood pressure pills.”
“Oh, come in, sit downIll put the kettle on,” Lucy said, rummaging through the biscuit tin. “What did the doctor say?”
“Same old. Keep taking the tablets, mind your salt intake, and try not to stress. As if thats an option at our age.”
The two had been friends since their NCT classes thirty years ago, back when theyd push prams around the park and complain about sleepless nights. Their sons had grown up togethersame nursery, same school, same football teamand their families had spent summers in Cornwall and Christmases swapping terrible jumpers.
“Listen, something odd happened yesterday,” Lucy admitted, sliding a steaming mug across the table. “I was coming back from Waitrose, and who do I see? Henry. Arm in arm with some young woman.”
Emmas eyebrows shot up. “A colleague, maybe? Work drinks?”
“On a *Sunday*? And they were *cosy*, Em. Laughing, her tucked into his side like they were glued together. At first, I thought I was imagining it.”
“And then?”
“Then I got closer. Definitely Henry. Wearing that bloody posh jacket I got him for his birthday, no less.”
Emma stirred her tea, thoughtful. “Lucy has Henry seemed *off* lately? Distant?”
“In what way?”
“Well, remember when we all went to that barbecue at the Smiths? He used to love those. Now its always works mad or Im knackered.”
Lucy frowned. She wasnt wrong. Lately, Henry had either been glued to his laptop or mysteriously “popping out.”
“Maybe its just his age,” Lucy ventured weakly. “He *is* turning fifty-five.”
“Or,” Emma said carefully, “its a midlife crisis. You know how men get. One grey hair and suddenly theyre buying motorbikes and flirting with baristas.”
Lucys cup clinked sharply against the saucer. “What exactly are you implying?”
“Nothing! Just thinking aloud.”
But Lucy *knew* that tone. Emma was holding something backsomething that flickered in her eyes like a dodgy Wi-Fi signal.
“At least Daniels grown and gone,” Emma said breezily. “Imagine if he were still at home, and his dad just left.”
“*Emma!* Who said anything about leaving? Were talking about *one* weird sighting!”
“Of course, of course,” Emma said quickly. “Just hypotheticals.”
They finished their tea, gossiped about the neighbours cat (again), and Emma left with a breezy “See you soon!”only to pause at the door.
“Oh, Lucy? Did you *mention* spotting Henry to him?”
“No. Why would I?”
Emma smirked. “No reason. Just curious what hed say.”
—
Henry came home at six, kissed Lucys cheek, and loaded his plate with shepherds pie. Totally normal. Suspiciously normal.
“How was work?” Lucy asked, casual as a Sunday roast.
“Fine. Budget meetings. You?”
“Oh, Emma popped round. Her GP put her on new meds.”
Henry nodded, chewing. Lucy studied him. *Ask. Just ask.*
“Henry where *were* you yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” He blinked. “Oh, out looking for new brogues. Didnt find any.”
“*All* day?”
“Pretty much. Why?”
“I thought I saw you near Westfield. With someone.”
Not a flicker. “Nope. Mustve been my doppelgänger.”
That night, Lucy lay awake, listening to Henry snore like nothing was wrong.
—
The next morning, Emma rang, breathless: “Can I come over? *Need* to talk.”
She arrived clutching printouts.
“Lucy, I God, this is awful. But you *need* to know. Henrys having an affair.”
Lucys stomach dropped. “How do you”
“Sarah Wilkinsremember her? Works at Henrys firm. Shes seen them *together*. Him and some twenty-five-year-old intern. *Everyone* knows.”
Emma thrust forward photos: Henry (or someone *very* like him) nuzzling a blonde outside a Pret.
Lucys hands shook. “Where did you”
“Sarah took these. Asked me to tell you.”
Emma patted her knee. “Maybe its for the best, love. Youre still fit! You could meet someone *proper*.”
“*Best?!* Weve been married twenty-eight years!”
“If he loved you, he wouldnt be snogging interns in public!” Emma snappedthen froze.
Too harsh. Too *invested*.
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Emma why do *you* care so much?”
“Because youre my *best friend*!”
But Lucy noticed things: Emmas fresh highlights. The new £200 blouse (“A steal at TK Maxx!”). The way shed started “coincidentally” dropping by when Henry worked late
After Emma left, Lucy rang their son.
“Daniel, quick question: does Dads department *have* interns?”
Daniel snorted. “In *accounting*? Its just Dave and Brenda, who still uses a *fax machine*. Why?”
Lucy hung up, heart racing. The photos *were* grainy
That evening, she checked Henrys phone.
**Emma, 9:03 AM:** *Spoke to her. Hope youre ready for life without her.*
**Henry, 9:47 AM:** *Well talk tomorrow.*
—
When Emma arrived the next day, Lucy slid the printed texts across the table.
Emma paled. “This isnt”
“Save it. Youve been texting my husband for *months*. Lets grab coffee. Does Lucy *really* understand you?”
“I *love* him!” Emma burst out. “Hes *miserable* with you!”
Lucy stood. “Fine. Take him. But rememberif hell cheat *with* you, hell cheat *on* you.”
Emma stormed out.
—
That night, Henry took Lucys hands. “Emma confessed feelings. I told her its *you*. Always you.”
Lucy exhaled. Emma had played the long gameand lost.
And as Emma packed her bags (Henry had blocked her number), it dawned on her:
Thirty years of friendship, goneall for a man who still brought his wife tea in bed.
