Whats gotten into you? Weve been married ten years! What mistress? Youre more than enough for me!
Charlotte couldnt shake the gnawing suspicion. She could *feel* itlike a cold draft slipping under her skinthat her husband was unfaithful. The uncertainty ate at her. One evening, she finally mustered the courage to confront him outright.
*Is it true or not?*
But he only scoffed.
Whats gotten into you? Weve been married ten years! What mistress? Youre more than enough for me!
Jonathan spoke smoothly, with practiced ease. His smile was unbroken, his gaze steady. No flicker of deceit in his voice, no hesitation in his eyes. Yet something still coiled in her gut, refusing to let go.
Charlotte wasnt one to leave things to fate. She *would* uncover the truthbut how?
After scouring the internet for advice, she started with his phone. Nothing unusualjust idle chatter with a few old schoolmates. Harmless. *So what?*
Jonathan never locked his phone. Nothing to hide, he always said. No secret messages, no deleted conversations. A saint in the flesh.
Still, doubt festered. Whenever he stayed late at the office, her chest tightened.
Her best friend, Emily, rolled her eyes. Youre imagining things! Jonathan adores youhe wouldnt *dream* of straying. Youre sabotaging your own marriage!
But Charlotte didnt listen. Her instincts screamed otherwise, and sharing her husband with another woman? Unthinkable.
Once, she even stormed into his workplace, demanding to know if he was *really* working. He was furious. Humiliating me in front of my colleagues? She spent hours apologisingbut he forgave quickly.
By all appearances, their life was perfect. A lovely home in Surrey, two bright children. They shouldve been happy. Yet Charlotte kept hunting for trouble.
*Seek and ye shall find.* But so far, nothing.
At thirty, with two children clinging to her, the fear of abandonment was paralyzing. Outwardly calm, inside, she was a storm.
No lipstick on his collar. No foreign perfumes. No sudden changes in routine. *Nothing.* Yet the dread lingered.
If not for sheer chance, she might never have known the truth. Imagined or real? Only time would tell.
When their youngest started primary school, Charlotte decided to learn to drive. Evening lessons, three months of practice, and she passed her test first go.
Jonathan was so proud he bought her a carsmall, compact, perfect for her petite frame.
(Though hed never admit it, hed bought it so she wouldnt ask to drive his Audi. You need more experience first, hed said.)
Then came the morning it all unraveled.
A Sunday. She woke early, determined to bake their favoritechicken and mushroom pie. But no flour. Outside, frost bit at the windows, snow heaped on the pavement. Still, shed grown confident driving in winter. A quick trip to Tesco.
Her car wouldnt start.
Back inside, the house slept. She crept, careful not to wake anyone.
Walking in the cold was unthinkable. Sojust this onceshed take his car without asking. *Five minutes there and back. Hell never know.*
She grabbed his keys, trudged back out. As the Audi warmed, she wiped the fogged windows. Reaching into the glovebox for tissues, her fingers brushed something
A phone clattered to the floor.
Not his.
She knew Jonathans phone. This one? A sleek, unfamiliar model. Maybe hed picked it up by mistakehe was always misplacing things.
Her thumb pressed the power button.
The screen lit. A message from *Sophie*:
*Miss you so much, my love! Come over soonIm waiting!*
Charlotte blinked. No passcode. She scrolled.
Messages. *Months* of them.
Turns out, Jonathan finished work at fivebut never came home before seven. Every single day, he stopped at Sophies flat first. *An hour with her, then back to his wife as if nothing happened.*
The words hed written Sophie? Things Charlotte had never heard from him.
Photos showed a woman in her forties. *Why her?*
Rage burned through her.
She flung open the car doorjust as Jonathan stepped out of their house.
Shed left a note: *Gone to the shops.* Hed seized the chance to text Sophie again.
*Now* she rememberedhow often hed forgotten his wallet and dashed to the car at night.
Jonathan froze, spotting her in his Audi.
Who said you could drive it? We *never* agreed
Charlotte buckled up. Reverse gear. A sharp press of the accelerator
The car screeched, slamming into the fence behind her.
She climbed out, trembling, keys clutched in her fist.
Go to *her* then, she spat. See how much she wants you when youve got *nothing*!
With a furious cry, she hurled his keys into a snowdrift and stormed back inside.
The boys were awake, confused. Minutes later, Jonathan pounded at the door
Charlotte locked it.
GO TO HER! DONT COME BACK!
Barefoot in slippers and a coat, Jonathan trudged to Sophies. Surely *shed* take him in.
But the door openedand a mans voice called from inside.
Honey, you coming back? Ive been waiting!
Sophie only gave Jonathan a guilty lookthen shut the door.
*Weekdays were his. Weekends? She had another man.*
Defeated, he trudged to his mothers house two streets over.
Margaret took one look and understood. She fed him, listened to his tale of a heartless wife, then patted his shoulder.
Dont fret, love. Who knew Charlotte would turn so cruel? Your luck will changeyoure only thirty-five! Youll find real love, mark my words.
So Jonathan stayed, plotting his fresh startuntil the child support papers arrived.
*Then* he realised: starting over wasnt so simple.
At least his mother hadnt abandoned him.
Small mercies.
