And whos that your husband is with in this photo? my friend exclaimed, eyes wide. Are you sure thats really my Tom?
I never did like it when Tom was away for long stretches. Back when we were making wedding plans, we used to dream that wed always be together, that wed never have to part even for a day. But then Tom was offered a rotational job offshore with a very attractive pay. He didnt say no. He came home, eyes wide as saucers, and told me that soon wed save up for our dream house and could finally think about having children. I tried to dissuade him, but hed made up his mind. There was no changing it.
Sophie, just think about it, hed say, full of enthusiasm. Two, three years at most. After that, well have a place of our own, with a garden like you always wanted. Our kids will have somewhere to play, well set up a gazebo. The time will fly by; youll hardly notice. No matter what arguments I put forward, it was pointlessTom was resolute. In the end, I agreed. Hed be gone for nearly three weeks out of every month, and wed only get about ten days together, when I wasnt at work or on weekends.
You could quit your job if you want, he offered. Then we could spend all ten days together, never apart for a second. I cant tell you how much I miss you when Im away… but I keep thinking, its just temporary, and that helps me through.
Dont be daft, I always replied. If I quit, Id go mad stuck between these four walls. No, you hurry and quit yourself instead!
Eventually that day arrived when Tom, just back from his shift, declared wed saved enough. A few more trips, he said, and hed hand in his notice. Then wed sell the flat, pool everything we had, and start house-hunting. I was over the moon. It felt like wings had sprouted from my shoulders.
With Tom away, I marked off the days on the calendar till his last shiftthe day Id finally have my husband back from that job that split us apart, as I called it. One gloomy autumn evening, I lounged in my favourite armchair, laptop on my knees, daydreaming as I scrolled through pictures of houses online. I wanted to see *the* onea house so perfect that Id know, just by looking, thats it. Id always read that if you really want something, you need to see it in your mind first, imagine it vividly, fix your attention on it, and trust that it would come true. Tom and I would often imagine our house: two stories, wooden beams, a balcony off the bedroom overlooking a patch of woodland or garden. Just then, I spotted the very house Id pictured for so longa timber home with panoramic windows, opening onto a lush green wood.
I spotted this photo in a local group on the most popular social media site of the moment. Intrigued, I clicked through to the owners profile, hoping to see more of the dream house. To my shock, amid the palatial homes photos, were pictures of Tom*my* Tom! There he was, lying on a sun lounger by a swimming pool, cocktail in hand. There he was again, waving from a balcony on the second floor. Captions read: My darling. And thenmy breath caughta photo of Tom and a radiant blonde by a blue sea, under which was written: Our honeymoon. My vision spun with pinpricks of colour. Terrified something was happening to my eyesight, I shut the laptop, paced the room, then sat back, trembling, before phoning my friend.
Clara and I shared everything, from childhood on; wed sat together at school, gone to college together, even now worked at the same firm. Without her, Id have completely wilted in Toms absence. She was always on handcoming over for a cuppa, inviting me for a film, or bringing her crafts round to show off. She lived with her grandmother and needed to be near, but sometimes Id help out where I could too. Now, I rang Clara and begged her to pop over.
Ill just get Gran her bath and be right down, she promised, and the forty minutes I waited felt like an eternity.
I kept sneaking looks at the laptop, half convinced it was all a mistake. That couldnt be my Tomit must just be someone who looked very like him.
So, whats all this? Clara burst in, breathless. Everyones alive? Good. The rest is fixable.
Clara, have a look, I said, pointing a shaky hand at the laptop, palm pressed to my forehead.
Whos your hubby with in these photos, then? Clara arched an eyebrow. Family of his, maybe?
Are you sure its my Tom? I asked, biting my lip.
Well, she said, pausing, unless hes got an identical twin you never mentioned, Id say thats your Tom. You having doubts?
Wouldnt you? Hes meant to be offshore, but these pictures were posted just the other day!
Lets see, Clara said, pulling up a chair and scrolling fast. In the comments under the honeymoon photo, someone asks when they managed to get married, and she repliesThats not important. As soon as Tommys official divorce goes through and hes free from that accidental marriageemphasis on accidentalwell formalise everything. For now, its our honeymoon, because its so deliciously sweet for us to be together.
She snapped the laptop shut and planted her fists on her hips.
Well, that takes the biscuit! And to think everyone at works green with envy over your lovely husband! I wonderdid he find himself a rich woman, and spends his time with her instead of working, or is it the other waygot a house out there, and decided he needed a new wife too?
I dont know, Clara, I sobbed. The worst thing is, hes completely out of contact. He told me hed be up north, no phone signal, but clearly he just didnt want to be distracted by me around this beauty.
Oh, dry your eyes, Soph, Clara hugged me, rubbing my back. I dont believe it for a second. What would he bother coming back for, for those ten days every month? Would she be fine letting him go like that? Or perhaps… perhaps he lied to her as well. Men! Sometimes Im grateful Ive none of that trouble.
But Clara, we were happy! He seemed so genuinehow could he fake it?
I dont know, Sophie. But lets not jump to conclusions till hes back. When hes home from the offshore, you can clear the air. In the meantime, try to keep your chin up! Ive got to dashneed to make Grans dinner for tomorrow. Keep your spirits up!
I nodded, tearful but grateful for her support.
Left alone again, I replayed every moment, searching for hints. Tom had never slipped uphe behaved impeccably. But really, in the age of mobile phones and WiFi, shouldn’t there be *some* signal, somewhere? He insisted there was nothingeveryone just wrote letters, posted off by helicopter. And yet, he scoffed at written letters as hopelessly outdated. When I asked him to write, hed say words were better left for when we were face to face. Suddenly, that seemed suspicious. Besides, he never brought back any gifts, nothing from the far north. When I asked for arctic berries or a sprig of real pinegifts Id read about in novelshe always said, I dont work in Scotland, Sophie, its just rock and ice up there. No woods, no berries. Now, I doubted every word.
That night, I barely slept. The next day, after work, I decided to visit my mother-in-law. I bought a nice cake and rang her bell, feeling anxious.
Sophie! Lovely to see you, she beamed, ushering me in. If only youd called ahead, Id have baked something. Oh well, this cake will go down a treat with a cuppa, and I dont mind breaking my routines today!
I hesitated, not wanting to distress Toms mother, who had high blood pressure, with my suspicions, but needing to knowdid she know anything about this blonde?
I do miss Tom so, Mrs Foster. If there were just some way to keep in touch… its so hard, not knowing how hes doing.
She sighed. It worries me too, not hearing his voice for weeks on end. But Tom said hes quitting soon, thank goodness! Ill be so glad to see him more. I cant wait to have grandchildren, but with work like that well, you know.
Yes, a baby would be lovely, I replied. Mrs Fosters face clouded at that, and she quickly changed the subject.
Oh, Sophie, would you like to see Toms baby photos? I found his old album recentlydid you know he had an identical twin?
She fetched the album and began to show me snapshotsfamily holidays, trips to the seaside, days in the park. Then a tiny, yellowing photo slipped out, showing two beaming boys.
Mrs Fosters eyes shone with tears as she clutched the photo.
Whats wrong? I asked, alarmed.
Oh, its nothing, she said softly, sliding the photo back in. But Id seen ittwo smiling little boys.
Mrs Foster, did Tom have a brother?
She nodded, voice trembling. He did. I had twins, but his brother was so weak. The doctors didnt give him a chance, recommended we leave him but we wouldn’t. We went to all sorts of specialists, but he only lived a year and a half. Tom never knew; we thought it was better not to tell him so young, and then well, there didnt seem a right time after that.
Does that mean we might have twins? I smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
Only if its meant to be, my dear. Whoever were blessed with, well be grateful.
But inside, I thoughtperhaps it wouldnt be *me* having Toms child after all.
I took my leave and thanked her for her kindness.
On the walk home, Mrs Fosters tale cheered me a little. What if Toms brother had somehow survived and it was him in those photos, not Tom? Sometimes you read about things like that. But deep down, I knew I was just clinging to any excuse, any possibility that my family wasnt about to fall apart.
At home, I wandered aimlessly, then stopped there it was: Toms wool jumper, the one with the diamond pattern Id given him for his birthday. He was wearing it in that photo with the blonde. That was the end of hopeTom had been lying, and lying well.
The hurt threatened to overwhelm me. Part of me wanted to seek out the blonde and have it out with her, but really, was it her fault Tom had stopped loving me? If he ever really had? Hed never been a man of words, but I thought I could read it in his eyes, his smile, his touch. Clearly, Id been wrong.
Ten long days remained until Toms supposed return home, and the wait was torture. How to learn the truth? Should I message the blonde, say Tom neednt keep up the charade, he could come collect his things, and we could get it over with?
The next day, at lunch, I poured out the story to Clara.
Just message her, Clara said, echoing her grans famous phrase. Theres no harm in asking head-on!
At the coffee station, our colleague Helen came over. Sophie, you said you and Tom wanted to buy a place, right? My friends are practically giving away their house as they need to emigrate urgently. I can get you first dibs.
Her words stabbed. Wed so wanted that house and now, nothing.
Im not sure anymore, I said with forced brightness, then hurried back to my desk.
All afternoon, the draft message swirled in my mind. That evening, I went home and typed out, with shaking hands: I accidentally came across your profile. Tom is my husband and Im willing to grant him a divorce. Theres no need for him to wait for the end of his shift.
The blonde was online, but didnt reply right away.
Shes probably conferring with Tom, I thought as the notification bell pinged. Hesitating, I opened her reply.
We are both grateful youre being understanding. Thank you for not making a scene. But we wont be cutting our honeymoon short. Please do file for divorce yourselfTom doesnt need to attend in person. You can do it all online. Gather his things; hell pick them up when needed. Dont hold it against uswe deserve happiness too.
I shut the laptop and collapsed onto the sofa, face down, sobbing But my tears were spent.
The next morning, I went to the registry office, filed for divorce, and that weekend I packed Toms things. My heart broke, knowing my husbandand our lifewas gone. I still loved him, despite this brutal betrayal.
The days trudged by like a film in slow motion. One morning, I peeked out of my window: the city was blanketed in a crisp, white snow, delicate flakes twirling down from the skythe very scene when Tom and I first met. Wed walked through falling snow, and hed walked me home, saying, I hope this wont be our last meeting. Id never been happier. How could it have ended so quickly? My stomach twisted with distress.
In the hallway Helen called to me, Have you decided about the house? You dont want to miss out.
No, Helen. Im divorcing Tom, I said, barely keeping my composure.
Really? Her hands flew to her cheeks. And I was so jealous! Honestly, the moment these blokes get a bit of cash, they think theyre kings. Dont you forgive himnot for that!
An hour later, my colleague Vera sidled over. Sophie, I heard. Did Tom really cheat?
For her, it was a sensitive topicshed caught her own husband twice, but always forgave him. I nodded faintly.
Did you catch him red-handed? she pried, almost pleased not to be alone in her misery.
Not quitefound some photos online.
Vera dismissed me with a wave. Oh, thats boring! You know you can fake photos online nowadays. You cant trust anything in this day and age, not even your own eyes and ears!
But I also exchanged messages with the blonde.
Still, its no big deal. I could write you any old nonsense! Vera stood to leave, but I grabbed her arm.
Listen, if youre so sure, how do you explain the photos?
Could be anyonesomeone jealous, trying to sabotage you, or someones after Tom. Or maybe a secret admirer, wanting to get you divorced. Fedor in IT is always eyeing you, and hes a whiz with computers. Think about it! Anyway, dont rush into divorce. Work out who really stands to benefit here!
Vera laughed and walked off. I looked over at Fedor, but quickly dismissed the idea. He was an upstanding man, hardly likely to start messing about with photos for revenge.
In the break room, Helen chatted away, Did you hear, my old school friends best mate just ran off with her blokecancelled their big anniversary do altogether. You cant trust anyone these days!
Something made me glance at Claras desk. She wasnt inoff taking her gran to the doctor. What if it was Clara? But no, shed never stoop so low.
Home again, I baked my favourite yogurt cake and took it up to Claras flat. She answered the door, suggesting I put the kettle on while she saved her work. But when I went after her into the lounge, she hurried to shield her laptop screenand I saw myself in an image, one I didnt remember.
Whats this, Clara? I asked quietly. Did she have a hand in the whole sorry business?
Its a surprise! she flustered. Im learning this new computer program. Youll see very soon!
What kind of program? I pressed. Not artificial intelligence, by any chance?
She glanced up sharply.
How do you know about that?
Word gets around, I said icily. So, I was rightAI
Well, Sophie, you were going to find out soon enough. Shame, though, my surprise is ruined.
And did you really think hed leave me for you? Did you?
Excuse me? Clara began to blush.
At least youre embarrassed, I thought grimly. Out loud: Stop pretending. I know the score now. Two plus two is still four.
Will you stop talking in riddles? Clara was getting angry.
Thats it. Youre no friend of mine. And I took your advicewrite to her, you said, what harm can it do I hope you enjoyed yourself.
Could you just speak plainly for once?
But I turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
If anything, I felt even lower than when I thought Tom had cheated. Id trusted Clara with everything, treasured her advice, and shed betrayed me. The sting of that was worse than anything, but knowing Tom hadnt actually been unfaithful gave me some small relief as I prepared dinner for his expected homecoming. Still, the hours dragged, and by nine Tom hadnt arrived. His phone was off, and I crept back to check the blondes profileanother photo posted that evening: Tom with her, captioned, Taking my man to meet the parents!
If Clara had done all this, why continue when I already knew? If Tom wasnt home, then what was the truth?
I rang Mrs Foster, who launched into anxious concern.
Sophie, what happened? Tom came here drunkIve never seen him drink. I was about to call you. He wont say a word!
I took a taxi and rushed over as fast as I could.
I fed him and put him to bed, she said quietly. Ive no idea whats happened.
I told her everything.
Poor girl! I cant believe hed do such a thing. Let me see his phone.
Out in the hall, I checked Toms coat and passed Mrs Foster the device. She scrolled, stopping at a photo message from an unknown senderan image of *me* in Fedors arms, looking compromising.
My hand flew to my mouth.
So it *was* Clara! I breathed. Please, Mrs Foster, explain everything to Tom when he wakes. I need to have words with someone
I taxied back, stormed up the stairs, and pounded on Claras door. She opened it, knotting her dressing gown tight.
What on earths the matter? she hissed. Grans just dozed off.
Oh, dont worry, Im not here to argueIm about to set everything straight! How could you? Some friend you turned out to be. Couldnt get your own, so you go after mine?
Dont be ridiculous, Soph. Remember who introduced you two?
Yes, you introduced uswhen he had nothing, and now you regret it because hes better off!
Come back when youre thinking straight, she said, trying to close the door, but I slapped her cheek. Cow! I snapped. Think about what youve done. Then I fled down the stairs.
Tom came home at dawn, creeping into the bedroom with a bouquet of red roses. He covered me in kisses.
Forgive me. I was such a fool. You wouldnt believe what I went throughcame off the plane, finally got signal, and saw all those photos And youwhat you mustve suffered, I cant imagine. Mum explained everything. Who couldve hated us that much?
It was Clara, I said numbly, though I could hardly believe it myself.
Our Clara? Tom was stunned. No, love, thats impossible. Shes like a sister to meeven if wed broken up, shed be the last person Id look at romantically.
Well, maybe she didnt feel the same I admitted, suddenly unsure.
I took a day off work, and Tom and I just held each other. He promised to cancel his last shift.
Enough. Weve waited long enough. Tomorrow Ill hand in my notice, join Zacharys firmless money, but with what weve saved, were set to buy a house, and we can earn the rest.
That evening, the doorbell rangClara was on the step.
It was Helen, you know. She set you up. No need to thank me!
She turned to leave, but I clutched her sleeve.
Clara, Im so sorry! Please forgive me!
She hugged me back. Sophie, youll always be my best matecheeky slaps and all!
Stay for dinner? Tom offered.
Ive got to feed Gran, but I can stretch to a cuppa.
Around the table, Clara confessed that, by process of elimination, shed figured out it was Helen. Shed been poking for gossip, concocted the story about the house to get close, and, after my outburst, Clara asked Fedor for help. He traced the fake social media account to Helen, matching her log-ins to the office CCTV. Shed also asked Fedor how to fake more realistic photos.
So she wanted to break up the two of you, Tom mused, and frame Clara? Why?
Come to the office tomorrow, youll see, Clara winked.
We did, and the moment Tom saw Helen, he turned pale.
Thats Helenshe was obsessed with me at school, leaving secret notes all the time. Lets get out of hereI dont want to run into her.
Clara grinned. Sophie talked you up, showed off your photosguess Helens old flame just flared up! She envied our friendship too, so tried to destroy both. But she failed.
Tom pulled us both into a hug, and we headed off for lunch.
Well, since its a day for honesty, Clara announced with a cheeky look, Fedor asked me to marry him! Turns out, it was me he fancied, not Sophie. I said yes! So wedding invites on the way!
After our lunch, we walked back arm in arm, happy. Helen watched from the window, then grabbed her coat and left, resigning the next day. No one heard from her again.
Tom and I realised our dreamwe bought a house. At the housewarming, Clara gifted us a huge painting of Tom and me having tea in the garden, dressed as a viscount and a lady.
That was the surpriseI was only trying to get your faces right! she laughed, hugging me. And by the way, husbands can be good friends, too.
Yes, I agreed. Theres nothing more precious than true friendship.
And thats what I learntreal love, real loyalty, and true friends endure any storm.
