**Diary 12May**
Dear diary,
Im still trying to make sense of the absurd call I got this morning. It was Victor Hartley my exhusband on the line, his voice halfhushed, halfexcited, as if he were about to confess a secret crime.
Hey, Nat, love, can you rescue me? he asked, almost breathlessly.
Victor? What are you on about? Do you need money or something? I replied, halflaughing.
No, not cash. I need a favour. I want you to pretend to be my wife not a former one, but an actual wife for just one evening.
My mind raced. Why on earth? Whats happening with you, Victor?
He sighed, his words tumbling out like a badly rehearsed play. Ive started seeing this girl, Lily Bennett. I thought it would be a casual fling, but shes fallen for me and insists we get married. Im not ready for that. Weve been separated for six months; I thought I was free to have a bit of fun, but she wont let me. She wants kids, wants a proper family. I cant give her that.
I could hear the desperation underneath his bravado. Victor, youre a regular Casanova! Did you ever think our marriage was such a burden?
The divorce was your idea, Nat. You said we were different, that the love was gone, that we shouldnt torture each other. You didnt want children either. And now Lily is already dreaming about a baby for me.
I tried not to smile at his melodrama. Well, at least she loves you and wants a child. Thats worth something.
Its not me she loves. Im just the man of her fantasies, a dreamboy. Shes never promised me anything. She comes over like shes at home, cooks, cleans, even pretends Im her husband. And now she thinks Im about to propose.
Thats your problem, isnt it? You want me to play the role of the dutiful wife you once left behind. How am I supposed to do that?
He paced, as if visualising a plot twist. Just say youve been on a work assignment abroad and have just returned. Imagine my shock when I discover the goodfornothing exhusband still there, and youre standing in my kitchen. Shell be devastated, start sobbing, but youll stand firm, saying Hes my husband, end of story. Shell have no choice but to leave.
Youre a dreamer, Victor. Thats a circus youve built and now you want me to be the clown. Why should I oblige? We may have ended on decent terms, but that doesnt give you licence to use me as an actor in your farce.
Nat, please, I need you to get me out of this mess. Ill take you fishing afterward you love sitting by the river with a rod in hand. Well grill some fish like the old days, he pleaded, his voice softening.
Ah, you know how to bribe a girl, I said, amused despite myself. Fine, Ill help you.
He asked, Are you seeing anyone now? A boyfriend, perhaps?
I shrugged. Thats none of your business. Im single. Im looking to get a mortgage on a flat; I cant keep living in rented rooms forever.
And you could live with me, have a roof over your head, money for holidays, all that, he whispered, as if offering a lifeline.
Not my idea of happiness, Victor, I told him. When do you need this wife act?
Friday evening. Bring a few personal items so it looks like you really live there. Tell Lily Ive hidden all my belongings so she wont get suspicious. Ill give her the flats key and say Im stuck at work. Shell show up, find you cooking my favourite carbonara at six oclock. Then Ill walk in, the whole scene will unfold, and youll both leave.
I swallowed. Youve really convinced me. Why am I so generous?
In the days that followed, I couldnt help but feel a twinge of jealousy watching Lily. Victor had never looked at anyone else the way he looked at her. She was the pictureperfect English rosetall, striking, with dark hair and emerald eyes that would make even a runway model blush. Somewhere inside me, a small green seed sprouted.
Victor and Lily had known each other since school; hed adored her, and her friends had always envied her for being with a handsome, smart, notpoor bloke who had inherited a flat from his parents and later built a modest business. After school, Lily went off to university while Victor stayed behind, occasionally popping over to see her, sharing cafés and countryside walks. By the time she finished her degree, shed somehow married Victor. Their marriage was smooth, almost too smoothfew arguments, no drama. Yet, after a few years, the spark faded, and Lily asked for a divorce. Victor, though hurt, agreed; he loved her still and didnt want her to suffer.
People mocked Lilys decisions, calling her foolish for chasing after a man who seemed to drift from one relationship to another. Yet she persisted, insisting on a fresh start. The divorce was swift. Lily moved into a rented flat, a modest salary allowing her to keep up with the rent. She took the car Victor had bought hera parting gift. She imagined a fresh beginning, only to find no suitors lining up; one even remarked that she was just an average woman, not a beauty. It was a blow, considering Victor had always told her she was the most beautiful woman on earth.
Now Lily had Victors attention again, and he seemed eager to move on. I imagined herself looking at Lily and feeling a pang of reliefperhaps this would be the end of the drama.
On Friday, after work, I drove home, packed a suitcase, and headed straight to Victors flat. I hung my clothes in the wardrobe, spread out my creams, perfume bottles, and a few personal knickknacks, recreating the slight chaos that had always been part of our life together. The fridge held the ingredients for the carbonara, and I began to cook.
A knock sounded at the door. Lily stepped in, a vision straight out of a fashion magazinetall, flawless, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes like fresh spring water. I felt a strange stab in my chest.
Victor? she asked, eyes wide. Who are you?
Im his uh, girlfriend, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The lawful one.
She laughed, a little too loudly. Youre his wife? He told me hes single, flying free.
Actually, my wife went abroad for a month on a work placement and just got back. Hes been well, hes been waiting for me. This is my surprisecoming home unannounced! Lily cried, wiping away tears with a handkerchief.
What am I supposed to do now? I love him, she sobbed, her voice breaking.
I forced a smile. Youll have to go home, love. Hes not the man you think.
She looked confused, then angry. I believed in him. I even wanted a child. Victor is a dream. Ive never met a man like himkind, caring, generous. Hes a perfect husband.
Dear, please, stop the details. Im sure you didnt know his situation. Hes yours now, not mine, I said, trying to sound firm.
No, I wont back down, Lily replied, determined. What if he loves me, not you? We could get married, have kids, go fishing, visit my parents in Greece. Hell come back and well see.
She plonked herself onto a kitchen chair, scrolling through her phone, showing pictures of us at the theatre, in the hills, at home. Everything was great until you showed up, she muttered.
My jealousy flared like a match. For the first time, I felt a fierce, possessive love for Victor. The thought that he could be happy with someone else, that a woman so stunning could share his bed, made my stomach churn. I imagined us fishing together, the quiet by the river, the simple pleasures we used to enjoy.
I heard my heart pounding as I realised how much I missed him, how badly I wanted his affection back. My life felt empty, my flat too quiet, my days too long. I could no longer stand the idea of Victor being with anyone else.
Enough! I snapped, pulling Lily towards the door. She struggled, but I was stronger. I flung the door open, thrusting her out.
Dont ever come back, Lily! Victor is mine, I shouted, voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. I slammed the door shut. She fled, clutching her bag, her face a mask of shock.
The flat fell silent. I stood there, breathing hard, feeling a strange mixture of triumph and emptiness. All those years of suppressed emotion surged to the surface; jealousy had finally given voice to what I truly felt. I realised I didnt need anyone elseonly Victor.
Later that night Victor slipped back into the flat, his face brightening at the sight of me in my dress, the table set with his favourite carbonara.
How did it go, Nat? he asked, leaning against the doorway.
Perfect. I tossed her out. She wont be bothering us again. Are you sure you dont love her? he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
Of course not, I replied, my heart racing. Ive never stopped loving you, Victor. I want a son, a daughtermarry me.
He smiled, the plan finally working. I cant forget you, Nat.
Really? I asked, a laugh bubbling up. You still love me?
Always, he said, his eyes softening.
Ive just realised how precious you are to me. Ill never let you go, I whispered. Lets have a family, lets be happy.
He nodded, embracing me. The scheme had worked, and the absurdity of the whole charade felt oddly satisfying. As we sat down to eat, the familiar clink of cutlery and the scent of fresh pasta reminded me of the quieter moments we once sharedmoments I now wanted to reclaim.
I still cant believe whats happened. It feels like Ive taken a step out of a theatre and onto the stage of my own life, with all the drama, jealousy, and love that comes with it. I only hope this time the curtain doesnt fall too soon.
Nat.
