Betrayed and Betraying
As I walked through the front door of our little London flat, the weight of the day pressed down on me like a sodden overcoat. I kicked off my shoesmud from the drizzle still clinging to the solesand stretched, feeling every knot in my lower back complain. Work had been relentless: urgent amends to the proposal first thing, endless meetings with everyone insisting their ideas were indispensable and had to be included. The looming deadline hung over it all, forever breathing down my neck. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of a long shower, a proper cup of strong English tea, and half an hour with my book, shielded from the world if only for a moment.
The gentle hum of the computer drifted from the studyfamiliar, routine, like so many other evenings. I trudged towards it, exhausted.
“Emily, you home?” I called out, voice echoing slightly down the hallway.
Nothing. I frowned, not thinking too much of it at firstmaybe the computer was drowning out my voice.
But the sight that greeted me as I walked into the study stopped me short. Emily was hunched over at my work deskmy desk. A memory stick jutted from the computer tower, and a file transfer window flickered on the screen. The way she froze, the furtive twist of her neck as she realised Id appeared, sent a cold ripple through my chest.
What are you doing? I asked, trying for an even tone, masking the unease creeping into my voice.
She flinched. Her hand snapped the mouse, clicking the window closed in one sharp movement.
Nothing, really. Just looking for something. She forced breeziness, but I could hear the nerves knotting her words.
I stepped further into the room. The discomfort inside me swelled, an itch I couldnt scratch.
Looking for what, exactly? I kept my voice steady. You know there arent any personal files on there. Its all work stuff. What did you need?
She spun on the chair, her expression changing. A flash of defiance in her blue eyes.
Do I have to give a running commentary on everything I do now? She was rattled, her gaze skating across the carpet.
I hesitated. Was I overreacting? But hell, it was my computerpassword protected, at that. How had she even got in?
No, you dont need to explain yourself. I paused, weighing my words. But thats my work PC. What was on the memory stick? Why were you copying my files?
She bristled, voice sharpening into a near-bark. Does it matter what I was doing? Its none of your business.
It is my business, I replied, more forcefully now, feeling my fists tighten. Thats my computer. My work. Youre sifting through my documents without asking.
Oh, dont go all holier-than-thou on me! she snapped, jumping out of the chaira clear move for an argument, indignation tipping her voice. Youre always at work, never here! What am I supposed to do? My laptops broken so I thought Id use yours. Is that such a crime?
I bit down, jaw tense. The last thing I wanted was a row, but this was heading straight for it.
Its not an excuse to go through my files, I said quietly, holding myself steady. What were you copying, Emily?
Silence. She looked away for a moment, probably deciding if she should bother lying. A sudden, heavy sigh.
Alright. It was the project files. For James.
For James? Youre serious? My mouth moved before I could stop itdisbelief punching every syllable. After everything he did to you?
Serious as ever, she returned, arms folded, stubbornness etched deeply in her stance. Hes in a mess. Hell get sacked if I dont help, and this job Its a one-off. He wont find anything like it again!
I physically stepped back, like her words could somehow be outrun. Betrayal, so simple and raw. Three years, just thrown away.
So you decided to help? I asked, struggling with the wave of anger threatening to break through. And drag me down with you?
So what? Emily shrugged, voice iced over, flint in her eyes. Im tired of living this way, with you. Everythings going nowhere! My lifes slipping through my fingers!
A humourless smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. There was no warmth in it at all.
My lifes slipping through? You think stealing my work is going to give you a new shot at happiness?
I wasnt stealing! Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to stand tall. I was helping someone who really needs it. Someone who, by the way, confessed hes never stopped thinking about me. That he still cares!
I shook my head slowly. Naive. How could she buy into another word James saidafter hed abandoned her, no explanations, just gone? Couldnt she see he was using her?
Of course, I nearly whispered, as much for myself as her. So you leapt to his rescue, never mind the consequences. Did it cross your mind that I could lose my job for this? Worsego to prison?
And have you ever thought about how I feel? Her voice was shaking, fringe trembling as she spoke. Do you really care, Tom? I sit here every night alone while you work and work and James loves me! He was thrilled to see me! I dont give a damn what happens to you anymore. The only man I truly love is James!
Her words landed with a force Id underestimated. I stepped back again, feeling the pulse of fresh wounds beneath my ribs. So that was it. She didnt care.
Im just a standbysomeone to have around while you wait for something real? I asked, more quietly than I intended.
She looked up, a little wild now, as if shed been waiting for me to ask, so she could finally unleash what shed been storing up.
Maybe you are! she tossed at me, not breaking eye contact. With him, I felt alive! You barely notice me! What am Ia trophy for you to dust off when you remember?
I closed my hand tightly around the USB stick. Plastic bit into my palm, grounding me as the last threads tore loose.
I work late because I want a future for us, I said, forcing each word out slowly. I want to propose. To provide for you. For us
My voice faltered, but I clung to composure. The air in the room pulsedheavy, swollen with unspoken grievances.
Provide? For who? Emily laughed, but there was nothing but exhaustion and bitterness in it. You miss the point completely! I need to be needed, to feel wanted. Here. Now. Not in some vague maybe-one-day.
My fingers dug into the stick, details blurring. It dawned on mein stark, painful claritythat our lives had started beating out of sync long ago.
So stealing my work is what gives you purpose? I managed, calm despite the maelstrom inside. Emily, you realise you could cost me everything. Have you thought about that? Even for a second?
I dont care, she snapped, bold as stone, gaze flat and merciless. Let happen what will. The only thing that matters is James and me.
I stared at herher defensive posture, clenched lips, and eyes full of irrevocable certaintyand it hit me. This was a different person than the Emily Id known: the person Id watched movies with, had lazy brunches, shared plans, made inside jokes.
You know what? Im leaving. Unless I decide otherwise, Im not coming back, she announced, already striding away. Nowhats the point? Why would I?
To where? I instinctively moved after her, but she was already by the door.
To James. Or wherever else I want. I can do what I like now. No more lectures from you.
She flung the door open, hesitated as if she expected a last-minute plea, but I stayed silent. What could I say?
I stood in the middle of the sitting room, motionless. The memory stick in my palm was suddenly leaden, burning. I collapsed into the faded armchair, gaze locked on the empty doorway. My thoughts whipped round and round, useless, jabbing. For the first time in years, I saw there were no words left. No magic phrase to undo what was done.
Sleep was elusive that night. I twisted in bed, reliving the argument, every word, every look. When I finally drifted into uneasy dreams, they were a muddle of broken phrases and gray sadness, the sense of emptiness trailing into the morning, heavy as fog.
Getting dressed, I packed up the few things of hers still dotting the placea paperback on the sofa, her makeup bag in the bathroom, scarves by the door. All small traces. I folded them into boxes, sealed them up with tape, not thinking about why I was doing itjust getting it done.
By evening, Id driven across to her mothers semi in Wimbledon. My heart thudded faster, but I knew I had to see this through. She answered the doorsurprise turning to confusion at the sight of the boxes.
Tom? Is everything alright? I could hear the strain in her voice.
I didnt explain. I just gestured at the boxes, keeping my voice flat.
These are Emilys things. Please give them to her.
ButI thought you were living together? Uncertainty mingled with empathy in her eyes.
Not anymore. I left it at that. Goodbye.
I didnt wait for anything else; simply turned and walked back to my car. In the wing mirror, I noticed her at the window, fragile and lost. I refused to look back a second time. Engine started, I melted into the citys grey shuffle.
The drive blurred by. Lights, signs, the Thames threading its way beyond the buildingsnone of it registered. My mind kept spinning: her words, her eyes, her final coldness. My chest ached. This was the endof us, of everything built together, of a future I thought wed share.
At work, routine carried on. Colleagues chatted about dinners out and football, traded stories over coffee. I managed a few replies, robotically leafed through my papers, but inside I was a ghost, watching my own day happen.
At lunch I went for a walkthe drizzle barely noticed. The high street pulsed as usual: busy, noisy, full of life I felt utterly cut off from. I stuck my hands deep in my pockets and wandered in the blur, feeling hollower with each step.
Back at my desk, my gaze snagged on the memory stick. Just a bit of plasticbut more than anything, a symbol of all that had gone wrong. I picked it up, feeling the cold edge, before dropping it in the bin.
Just then Anna poked her head round the door. She paused, eyes flicking to the wastepaper basket, then back to me.
Tom, are you alright? she asked, a softness in her voice.
Fine. Just the usual mountain of work, I said, trying for a smile.
If theres anything I can do Herethese are the reports for the latest project. We need to check the figures.
Her practical tone steadied me a little. I nodded and flicked through the printouts, burying myself in columns and numbersthe only steady ground left, for that moment.
****************************
Meanwhile, Emily was racing towards James place, heart hammering from adrenaline and nerves. In her head she rehearsed how it would go: imagined him meeting her at the door, arms open, promising everything would be different now.
She reached his flat and rang the bell, hurriedly smoothing her hair. The door swung open almost before she finished knocking. James stood there: tense, cold.
Well? Did you bring it?
That was itno hello, no smile. Just the question, clipped and urgent.
Um noTom took the stick. He saw me copying the files and stopped me, she faltered, words tripping over themselves as dread pooled in her stomach.
His face twisted, a sneer of irritation.
So you did nothing? One simple thing, and you couldnt manage it?
I tried I really did she stammered, shrinking from his grip as he pulled her into the flat, shutting the door behind them.
Tried? he mocked, letting her wrist go at last. You don’t get points for trying, Emily. Youre all talk. Useless.
The words were a slap. Emily staggered, searching for warmth, for anything of the James she remembered.
But you said you loved me. That you never forgot
His laughter was cold, metallic. So what if I did? Words are cheap. If you believed me, youre more naive than I thought.
Her knees trembled. You couldnt You said you needed me
I said I needed the files. Not you. He folded his arms, lips curled into something close to disgust. You were convenient, a means to an end. Now, Im done.
Emily wilted, numb. She couldnt movecouldnt retreat, couldnt fight. His eyes were empty, already looking beyond her.
Why? she whispered. Why so cruel?
Because thats how life is, he said with a shrug. You use people, or you get used. Goodbye, Emily.
He moved to the door and yanked it open.
Get out.
She found herself out in the dim corridor, the click of the door behind her as sharp as a full stop. She leaned against the wall, tears welling and slipping down unchecked.
The city was sodden with rain, yellow streetlights reflected in the puddles, everything a blur. Emily walked blindly, the damp soaking her hair and collar. She didnt feel the cold; every fragment of hope, every happy illusion, seemed to have dissolved with the rain.
His words echoed: I never needed you You were just convenient Useless
Emily wandered, not knowing or caring where she went. The traffic, the citys rhythm, it all became a dull roar she couldnt penetrate. Somewhere along the way she ducked into a cramped café, drawn only by the warmth and pale glow. She slumped at a table in the corner, ordered tea, and stared at the curling steam.
Her thoughts tumbled, grasping for sense. She remembered Toms expression the last nightnot rage, but a deep, quiet sadness. He hadnt shouted, hadnt chased after her, just watched as she left. And then James cold dismissal, a strangers contempt.
He never loved me, she thought, and at last it made sense, even as the pain sharpened.
She pulled out her phone, wiping away fresh tears, and called Tom. Her reflection in the dark screen was almost unrecognisable: smeared mascara, red eyes, exhaustion. Her heart pounded as the phone rang, and thenToms voice, steady but distant.
Emily?
She closed her eyes, clutching the phone. Words snagged in her throat.
Tom Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
He waited.
I Im sorry, she forced out after a long pause, her voice shaking. Ill call you again later.
She hung up. Stared at the silent phone, numb and lost. She knew then that calling him would change nothing. After what shed done, what more could she say? Shed wrecked it herselfit wasnt James, or the world. Just her own choices.
The tea had gone cold. She got up, left a tennermore than enoughand slipped back into the rain.
The world carried on: red buses roared by, umbrellas bobbed along the pavements, neon signs bled through the drizzle. Emily kept walking, feet heavy, head bowed, not caring where she ended up. The meaning had gone from everything.
No more Tom. No more James. No more illusions or bright hopes. Just herself, and the echoing emptiness.
She paused at a crossing. Right, left, straight on. Should she go back to the old flat? Someone else lived there, now. Mums? There would only be questionsquestions with no answers. Or just drift through the night, letting exhaustion blur everything further?
She didnt know. Not anymore.
