I found two tickets to the Maldives tucked in my husbands jacket pocket. My name wasnt on either of them.
Victoria was pulling her husbands shirts into the washing machine when her fingers brushed a thick piece of paper in the inner pocket of his charcoal blazer. She slipped the find out, unfolded a crisp envelope, and gasped at the two airline tickets inside. The flight was scheduled for two weeks from now, the return in ten days, business class. The first ticket bore the name Andrew Scully her husband. The second read Poppy Scully.
Her heart stuttered. Poppy? There was no Poppy Scully in their family tree. Twentyfive years of marriage, and suddenly a Poppy.
Could it be a mistake? A typo? the thought fluttered through her mind, but the name on the second ticket was printed cleanly, without error. It wasnt Victoria Scully, it was Poppy.
She slipped the tickets back into the envelope, returned it to the blazer pocket, and felt her hands tremble. Her throat went dry. Andrew would be home from work within the hour; she needed to collect herself.
She shuffled into the kitchen, poured herself a mug of tea, and perched by the window. In a quartercentury together theyd weathered arguments, cold spells, and endless misunderstandings, but infidelity had never even whispered its way into her thoughts. Andrew had always seemed steadfast, reliable. Their love had begun on a group trek up Ben Nevis, and from there theyd roamed the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales, and later, the coast of Cornwall. After the wedding the trips grew fewer work, bills, the ordinary grind.
Their last joint holiday had been three summers ago, a twoweek escape to the Cornish cliffs. Andrew had promised a foreign adventure the following summer, but life kept pulling them in opposite directions: first a deadline for Victoria, then a project for Andrew. Now it seemed he was planning a Maldives escape but not with her.
She dialled her old friend, Olivia.
Oi, Liv, can you talk? her voice trembled.
Victoria? Whats wrong? Olivias tone sharpened instantly.
I found two Maldives tickets in Andrews jacket. One in his name, the other in a Poppy Scullys.
A pause, then Olivia asked gently, Maybe its workrelated? A corporate trip?
What corporate trip to the Maldives? Victoria snorted, bitterly. And why would a Poppy Scully be on the same reservation?
Youre right, thats odd, Olivia agreed. What will you do?
I dont know, Victoria sighed. Should I wait for him to explain?
And if he doesnt? Olivia replied softly. Youve been together forever, but people change, especially men of a certain age.
Andrew isnt that kind of man, Victoria insisted, though doubt flickered inside.
Everyone says that until reality knocks, Olivia said, sighing. Why not just ask him straight away? Show him the tickets, demand an answer.
But what if he lies?
Youve lived with him twentyfive years. Youll know when hes not being truthful.
Victoria stared at the ceiling, the tea cooling beside her. She remembered how lately Andrew lingered later at the office, mentioned important meetings on weekends, and had started caring about his appearance fresh shirts, a pricey cologne, a haircut at a trendy salon. Hed never been that meticulous before.
She shook herself out of the reverie. Speculation would not bring facts. She walked to Andrews study, a room she rarely entered because they respected each others privacy. Still, the situation demanded an exception.
The study was immaculate, as Andrew liked things orderly. She sat at his desk, typed the familiar password the date of their wedding and opened his email. Nothing alarming: work correspondences, newsletters, a message from an old university mate. She clicked through the browsing history and found a string of searches: Best couples resorts Maldives, Romantic Maldives getaways, What to pack for the Maldives, and the final query, Gift for beloved woman in Maldives.
Her breath caught. Beloved woman. Not wife, but beloved woman. She closed the browser, turned off the computer, and swallowed tears that threatened to spill. She could not let Andrew see her break.
When Andrew finally returned, she had managed to calm herself and had even set the table. He slipped off his coat, kissed her cheek, and sniffed the air.
Whats cooking? he asked, delighted by the aroma.
Chicken casserole with mushrooms, Victoria replied, trying to keep her voice steady. Your favourite.
Brilliant, Im starving, he said, heading for the bathroom.
They ate, chatting about the weather, the news, weekend plans. Victoria watched him like a hawk, seeking any flicker of guilt. He talked about work, asked about her day, laughed at her jokes.
So any trips coming up? she asked nonchalantly while pouring tea.
Nothing set yet, he shrugged. Why?
Just thinking maybe we could get away together. Its been ages since weve had a proper break.
He gave her a strange look, as if a secret lingered on the tip of his tongue, then said, Yes, its been a long time. Well have to think of something.
A knot tightened in Victorias chest. He was lying, right then, staring at her as if she were a stranger.
What about the Maldives? she ventured, keeping the tone light. Ever thought of going there?
Andrew flinched barely, a tiny twitch she caught.
Maldives? he said, forcing a nervous grin. Why the Maldives?
Just an example, she shrugged. People say its beautiful. Would you like to go?
I dont know, it sounds expensive and far.
Lies, lies, Victoria muttered, a lump forming in her throat.
Whos Poppy? she asked suddenly.
Andrew froze, tea cup midway to his lips.
What Poppy?
Poppy Scully. Do you know her?
He opened his mouth, then shut it. Victoria, whats happening?
She rose, fetched his blazer, slipped the envelope from its pocket, and placed it on the table.
I found this while doing laundry. Explain, please.
Andrew stared at the tickets as if they were foreign objects, then met her eyes.
Victoria, its not what you think.
What do I think, Andrew? she whispered. That youre flying to the Maldives with another woman? That twentyfive years mean nothing to you?
No! he snapped, standing abruptly. Its not like that at all!
How? she asked, tears finally breaking free. Who is Poppy, and why are you lying to me?
He moved to embrace her, but she stepped back.
Dont. Just tell me the truth.
He sighed heavily. Alright. The truth is I booked these tickets a month ago. Theyre for us.
Victoria glanced at the screen of his laptop. An email from a travel agency listed two tickets to the Maldives, hotel reservations for Andrew and Victoria Scully.
But why does it say Poppy? she demanded.
Andrew scrolled down. Read this: Dear Mr. Scully, an error occurred when processing your tickets. Your spouses name was entered incorrectly. We apologize. New tickets will be issued within three business days. This arrived this morning. I didnt have a chance to tell you.
She read the message over and over, disbelief warring with relief.
So these tickets are for us? her voice trembled.
Yes, for us! I wanted to surprise you for our silver wedding. Twentyfive yearsour silver anniversary. Ive been planning this for months, saving, picking the perfect resort.
Then why the secrecy? And where did Poppy come from?
I wanted it to be a surprise, he said, guilt softening his smile. As for the name, I have no idea. Must have been a system glitch, perhaps mixed with another booking.
Victoria stared, trying to piece together what shed imagined. Had she built a drama out of a phantom?
Im sorry, she whispered. I look foolish.
No, I understand, Andrew brushed her cheek. I know how it could look. But I would never with another woman.
She admitted, Youve changed latelynew shirts, a haircut, staying late. I let my mind run wild.
Ive been polishing my image for the trip, he replied. Those extra projects at work funded the tickets.
Shame flushed her face. She had let doubt poison the love shed tended for a quarter of a century.
Im sorry, she said, hugging him tightly. Did I ruin everything?
Nothing is ruined, he answered, holding her close. The surprise may have flopped, but well still go together. You do want to go to the Maldives, dont you?
With you, anywhere, she smiled through tears.
That night sleep eluded her; Andrews steady breathing filled the room while she stared at the ceiling, pondering how a single suspicion could crumble a house built stone by stone.
The next morning, after Andrew left for the office, Victoria called the travel agency. A polite woman confirmed the clerical error and promised new tickets would be couriered today.
Do you know where the name Poppy came from? Victoria asked.
The system sometimes jumble data when its overloaded, especially during promotional periods, the operator explained. There were many Maldives bookings that day, so a name overlapped.
Victoria thanked her and hung up, feeling a lightness replace the earlier heaviness.
That evening, Andrew returned to a table set with candles and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.
What are we celebrating? he asked, surprised.
We, and our upcoming Maldives trip, Victoria replied simply.
Andrew smiled, pulled a fresh envelope from his pocket.
Here are the new tickets, definitely in your name.
Victoria opened it, saw two tickets addressed to Andrew Scully and Victoria Scully.
Thank you, she said, meeting his gaze. For everything.
And thank you for believing in me, he replied, earnest. For the past twentyfive years, and for the next twentyfive.
They clinked glasses as snow fell outside, blanketing the city in white, while warmth and comfort filled their flat. Victoria thought how lucky she was, and how fragile happiness could beone misstep, one misplaced name, and it could shatter like thin ice.
Two weeks later they boarded a plane bound for the Maldives. As the aircraft ascended, Andrew took Victorias hand.
I was scared youd refuse to go, he confessed. You never like surprises.
I love you, she answered simply. Everything else is background.
He squeezed her hand, and they smiled, watching the endless sky beyond the windowvast as their love, tested by time and doubt, now soaring free.
Back at home, in a drawer of Andrews desk, lay another envelope containing a diamond ring, a gift for their silver anniversary, intended for the sunset on a Maldivian beach. He was certain this surprise would finally land.
That Maldivian day became one of the happiest of their lives, but that is a story for another time.
