Testing His Feelings
Is it bad if your husband doesn’t get jealous at all? wondered Emma, absent-mindedly pressing her fork into a slice of Victoria sponge, barely touching her food. I used to love how much we trust each other, but now I keep thinking, maybe it isn’t that simple…
Sitting opposite was Charlotte, who leaned her chin on her hand and studied Emma with a furrowed brow, genuine puzzlement in her eyes.
Not even a hint? she asked, leaning in. He doesnt get anxious if youre late from work or ask who youre meeting up with? Doesnt wait up if youre home later than usual?
Emma forced a weak smile and shrugged.
Exactly, she sighed. I walk in, he greets me cheerfully at the door, like he hadnt even noticed I was gone. Always smiling, always friendly. Hell make a lovely cuppa, ask me about my day, then suggest a bit of telly together. Not the faintest whiff of jealousy or worry.
She gazed down into her tea mug, as though searching for answers in the dregs. Her voice was low, uncertain:
And you know, I used to think it was perfect. I was proud of our trust. But now now I sometimes catch myself thinking, what if it means he just doesnt care?
Sophie leaned back, arms crossed, a wistful smile on her lips just months ago, shed gone through a messy divorce caused by her exs raging, ridiculous jealousy.
Honestly, I envy you, she said, shaking her head. Protect him, Emma, they dont make men like that anymore. You should submit him to the National Trust! Imagine having to account for every step, every conversation, explaining being five minutes late. Yours… Well, he trusts you thats precious.
Emma just stirred her cooling tea with a distracted half-smile but Charlotte jumped in, sitting up, her expression abruptly serious as if delivering a lecture.
Dont be daft, she interjected, shaking her head. If he loves you, there should be *some* jealousy! Not loads, not like Sophies ex, but a little! Otherwise, hes basically saying he doesnt care where you are or who youre with.
Sophie opened her mouth, but Emma said quietly:
Maybe William just doesnt love me
The words hung like a slow-falling tear in the room. Charlotte immediately leaned across the table:
Dont be hasty! she exclaimed. Sometimes men need a nudge, Emma, sometimes you have to gently prod them to bring out their feelings. Why dont you test him? Then youll know for sure.
Emma looked at her, surprised.
A test? What sort of test?
Charlotte’s lips curled up in a conspiratorial grin, her eyes sparkling:
Tell him youre meeting an old friend, maybe linger after work for once, make up a reason. If he feels anything for you, hell show at least a flicker of concern anything! If he doesnt… she paused dramatically, then well take it from there.
Sophie shook her head, clearly disapproving:
Oh Char, always sending people to battle. Why not just talk to him, honestly, openly?
But Charlotte simply brushed this aside:
Its fine to talk, but actions speak louder than words. Youll see Emma, itll all be clear after our little test.
Emma cocked her head, intrigued yet hesitant.
So what am I supposed to do?
Charlotte straightened up, now brisk and excited.
Well, you told us you got a promotion, didnt you? You supervise a team now, mostly blokes? Bring it up with him.
Emma considered, frowning.
But I told him already. He said well done, took me out for dinner to celebrate. It was well, normal. Maybe too normal.
Charlotte wouldnt be deterred, waving away Emmas doubts.
No, no, complain a bit! Drop into the conversation that youre working with young men, say theyre quite good-looking and maybe add how theyre always flirting around the office. Say, You know, Will, I dont find it easy working with them! Theyre more interested in flirting than doing their jobs. Thatll get a reaction from him!
Emma twirled her spoon, watching the sunlight flash across the metal. All these possible conversations buzzed through her mind. The idea felt childish, almost like a secondary school ploy for attention, but also what if it worked? What if she finally saw some sign William wasnt as indifferent as he seemed?
She looked up at Charlotte, uncertainty and faint resolve in her eyes.
Ill try Emma murmured, testing the words. But Im just not sure its right.
Sophie, whod been quietly observing, put in gently:
Maybe its not worth the risk? What if he takes it the wrong way and starts worrying over nothing? Couldnt you just tell him plainly?
Charlotte, eyes alight, shrugged off this caution:
Oh Soph, youre always the careful one! Sometimes you need to tip the scales a bit to see whats underneath. Just try it, Emma youll know where things stand right away.
******************
Charlotte practically burst into the café, spotting Emma in her usual quiet corner. Shrugging off her coat, she leaned in at once:
Well? Howd it go? Did William react to all that stuff about the young male colleagues?
Emma set down her cup with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped, and confusion clouded her eyes. She paused, then replied in a low voice:
He just sympathised and told me to be firmer at work. Gave me some actual good advice, if Im honest… Used it yesterday and it really helped.
Charlotte pursed her lips, biting back criticism. Trying to be gentle, she finally said:
Not quite the reaction we hoped for though, is it? Never mind! Lets try something else. Listen start locking your phone. Act more secretive. If he enters the room, hush your conversation. Constantly message text us, if you like. That way, well guide you as you go!
Emmas fingers shook as she brushed a stray hair from her cheek.
And if he still ignores it? she asked quietly. What then? Maybe hes just…that placid by nature?
Charlotte wasnt having it, determination glinting in her eyes.
Then, and only then, will we rethink things! For now, stick to the plan. You want answers, dont you?
Emma studied her teacup, thoughts tumbling. What if Charlotte was right? Could these little provocations reveal what William truly felt? But an uneasy, shadowy fear lingered what if the answer wasnt what she hoped?
She glanced up at Charlotte resolve and fear, mixed.
Fine Ill try. But if nothing changes
Well cross that bridge, Charlotte smiled, nodding encouragement. Dont give up. Well get it sorted, youll see!
So Emma went along, at first awkward, faintly ashamed as if this was some ridiculous game from her schooldays. But uncertainty and anxiety about her marriage drove her on.
She started idly picking up her phone more often, checking for messages. Then, shed set her phone in plain sight on the kitchen counter or by the bed, always screen up so every glowing notification could be seen.
Her friends joined into the act with enthusiasm, texting her emojis or Hey!s just to spark up the notification light.
Each time William walked in and saw her phone flash, Emma held her breath. Kept a close eye on his face did he frown, did he look suspicious, did he ask any questions?
One evening, as her screen pulsed with a new message, William tea in hand glanced over, then asked calmly:
Whos texting you this late, Em?
Oh, just work, Emma replied breezily, striving for casualness. Need to sort out a couple things.
He nodded, no hint of concern:
Alright. Dont stay up too late.
Next night, it was almost the same. William, passing by as her phone buzzed again, simply said:
Still work?
Yup, urgent stuff, Emma replied, disappointment swelling inside.
Okay, shout if you need a hand, he said, already halfway out the room.
Watching him amble off to the living room, Emma felt hollow. Shed hoped for a flash of worry, a sign, anything. But he just carried on, unruffled.
He really doesnt care, she thought bitterly, staring at her phone as Charlottes update? pinged across the screen. Her friends tried gamely, conjuring new ideas, but it was no use. William remained ever calm, ever pleasant, absolutely untouched by her suspicious behaviour.
Emma set her phone down with a deep sigh. This game, suggested by her friends, suddenly felt anything but funny. Instead of giving her answers, it spawned doubts. And instead of relief, it gave her a leaden unease about her marriage…
**********************
Charlotte perched cross-legged, gesturing animatedly as she revealed the next big plan, clearly relishing her mastermind status.
Time for something bolder, she declared, after Emma recounted her latest failure to spark jealousy in William. Youll stay over at mine. Once a week. No, make that twice! Tell William I need emotional backup say I broke up with someone, all dramatic. Whenever he asks, just look away, drop into silence, act on edge let him stew a bit, really make him wonder whats up.
Emma, absently spinning her teaspoon, looked sceptical the thought of staying out all night seemed drastic now, bordering on reckless. She half-opened her mouth to object when Sophie cut in.
To that point shed mostly watched on, head slowly shaking, as if weighing them from a distance. But now, her tone was gently firm:
Just one question, Em whose flat do you live in?
Emma blinked, puzzled.
Williams, obviously. Why?
Sophie leaned in, more serious:
Im worried youll soon be flat-hunting, she said with a dry smile, no real warmth in it. Youre playing with fire! Even the calmest people, one day snap. Imagine if William found out? How would you explain you were just testing him, not having an affair?
Emma felt a tightness inside. She wanted to answer but no words came. Sophie pressed on:
And believe me, our witness statements wont matter. William will just think were covering for you. Are you sure you want to push it this far?
Charlotte, so sure before, faltered a second. Her mouth twitched but she fell silent under Sophies calm gaze.
Emma stared at the table, cloth clenched lightly in her fingers. Was Sophie right? Maybe she was going too far. But, how else could she know if William really loved her? Was his calm just a mask for indifference?
She let out a shaky breath.
So what do I do then? Just wait?
Sophie gently laid a hand over hers.
Maybe just be honest? Tell him you feel overlooked, you worry when hes so easy-going. Some people show love differently doesnt mean they dont feel it.
Charlotte dismissed this with a casual flick:
Oh, dont be so dramatic! Honestly, theres no hard proof of anything dodgy! He cant accuse you without reason, and theres none to be found. This is just to stir him a bit, wake up his feelings!
She leaned back, folding her arms with stubborn determination. Sophie only shook her head no use arguing now.
Charlotte turned back to Emma, eyes shining.
So, whats it to be? Continuing, or have you chickened out? she teased with a raised brow.
For a moment, Emma sat frozen. A storm of doubt and fear raged inside her. Sophie was so sensible surely trust mattered more? But Charlotte radiated confidence, and Emma couldn’t accept that cold indifference, not yet.
Her fists curled unseen under the table, voice a little shaky but determined as she found her answer:
Lets do it.
There wasnt much conviction in her tone, more a desperate hope. Charlotte grinned, clapping her hands:
Now were talking! Well start right away. I know exactly what to say…
Sophie just sighed, eyes downcast into her tea. She didnt protest again; but worry shadowed her features as if she could already see where this road led, but knew she couldnt change Emmas mind.
*************************
I sat there on the ancient wooden bench just outside the house, arms wrapped tight around myself, bracing against more than a chillan icy sort of emptiness inside. Three battered suitcases stood beside me, bulging so full of my things that the zips barely held. I stared at them, not believing it had come to this.
Where exactly did it all go wrong? I wondered bitterly, replaying that final row with William over and over.
It had all started after those nights staying at Charlottes. Id done as we planned: said Sophie needed me, acted secretive, dodged questions, pretended on edge. The first two times, William just nodded, told me not to worry about Sophie too much. But the third time, when I let myself in late, I froze in the hallway.
Suitcases. My suitcases.
William stood not far off, leaning against the wall, watching me with the sort of overly calm expression that means more than a shout ever could.
Ive known you five years, he said, when I stuttered out my explanationthat it was all a silly test
He halted me with a gesture.
Youre a clever woman, he said, shaking his head. You wouldn’t be so daft as to pull something like this. Provoking jealousy? Thats not logical, Em. You shouldve come up with a better excuse.
My throat tightened. Id meant only to see if he cared at all. But William had already turned away, walking toward our bedroom.
All your things are packed. Please take them, he said over his shoulder, voice level. And dont lie to me.
But Im not! Its true! I cried, eyes stinging. You never cared where I went, or who I saw and I I just wanted to know if I mattered to you at all.
He faced me, hands deep in his pockets. Unreadable. Only that faint line between his brows gave him away.
I dont buy it. Thats teenage nonsense, not the actions of a professional manager. Enough. If Im too emotionless for you, find someone else. Sophies ex, maybe! She ran from jealousy while you ran towards it.
His words stung, like a slap. I wanted to protest that I wasnt looking elsewhere, I just lost my bearings but he turned his back. Silently, he took the suitcases, carried them outside in three quick trips, never pausing, as if hed made peace with it already.
At the door he paused didnt even look at me:
Ill file for the divorce myself.
And he left. The door snapped shut, the last thread of our life together cut.
I stood there in the empty hallway, listening to the thick silence. Slowly, I sank to the floor and let tears run as they would. Over and over one thought circled: Why did I ever think I needed provable jealousy
I remembered how it started: friends, a silly idea, the first hesitant attempts, the rising dread. It all seemed like a harmless game a way to rouse my husbands feelings. Now, pressed against the cold hall floor in a silent house, I realised I hadnt woken his love Id buried it.
If only Id spoken to him, just said that I needed more of his attention, that I was worried But its too late now. The bags were by the door, William was gone, and Id no way to set things right.
Night crept through Londons streets outside. I hugged my knees, listening as children played, a dog barked somewhere far off, the usual city bustle now distant and strange. I was left with nothing but regret, and a question that would never be answered.
What should I do now…
Personal lesson: If theres anything Ive taken away from this mess, its that honesty always trumps games. When you chase reassurance by putting someone to the test, you risk breaking what youve built. Next time if there is a next time Ill speak my mind rather than try to manipulate someones heart. Sometimes trust is just trust, and not a lack of love at all.
