Mike said he had a meeting, but I caught him at the restaurant.
Emily, sometimes I feel like Im losing my mind, I said, tapping my spoon against the rim of my mug, not even noticing the coffee spreading over the napkin. The boss has sent the report back for revisions for the third time. Third! And he never tells me what to fix, just frowns and mutters something about lacking detail.
Claire gave a sympathetic nod, dabbing the coffee stains with a napkin.
Maybe he doesnt even know what he wants, she offered. Remember our old manager? He nitpicked everything just to have something to gripe about. Turned out he was the one getting hauled off to the directors office.
Honestly, could he just be straight with me? I threw my hands up. I havent been sleeping properly for a week. Even Mike noticed.
Does he usually notice when youre on edge? Claire teased.
I sighed, pushed my mug aside and slumped back in my chair.
Its not that he doesnt notice its just that hes always got his own dramas, especially these past few months. You know, the promotion, the new responsibilities. Hes constantly in meetings, briefings, negotiations.
Look at the upside! Claire perked up. Mike always wanted to move up. I remember him at your wedding saying hed be sitting in a corner office overlooking the city centre in ten years. Well, hes finally getting it.
I managed a weak smile, thinking of those lofty conversations. Mike has always been ambitious, driven, and thats what first attracted me his confidence, his push to get better for himself, for us, for the family were building.
Yeah, he got it, I conceded. But now I hardly see him. He leaves before me, comes home late. Sometimes I only hear his breathing in the night and wonder if hes even there.
Just a rough patch, Claire placed her hand over mine. Hell settle into the new role and things will smooth out. Youve been together eight years, right? Not the first hiccup in a long marriage.
Eight, I corrected automatically, glancing at my watch. Eight years, three months and about twelve days.
Claire laughed. There you go! Counting the days means youre still on track.
Probably, I said hesitantly. Listen, were stuck here a while. I still have to rework that cursed report. How about we meet on Friday? Maybe grab a drink and unwind?
Sounds perfect, Claire replied. I know a lovely spot. Theres a new place on Camden Street called Silent Cove. Supposedly they serve amazing Mediterranean dishes and have live music in the evenings.
Silent Cove? I asked. Is that the one with the private booths that look like ship cabins?
Thats the one! Have you been?
No, but Mike mentioned it. He said they were planning a corporate night there.
Even better! Youll finally see the place hes been raving about, something to chat about next time you two meet, Claire winked, and we both burst out laughing.
The rest of the week was a blur. I finally sorted the report after a chat with a colleague, discovering the boss just wanted more charts hes a visual thinker and hates walls of text. Mike, as usual, arrived late, and our interactions were limited to a few quick words over breakfast.
Ill be late again, he said Friday morning, gulping his coffee. Important meeting with potential partners new contracts for the whole next year.
Got it, I replied, trying to sound upbeat. Ill be late too; Claire and I are heading out to celebrate getting through this nightmare week.
Good idea, Mike said, halfdistracted, scrolling on his phone. Alright, Im off. Dont wait up if Im really delayed.
He planted a quick kiss on my cheek and rushed out, leaving a faint scent of aftershave and a weird sense of unfinished business thats been nagging me lately.
That evening Claire and I met at the entrance of Silent Cove. The restaurant lived up to its name dim lighting, soft music, warm tones. The booths really were like ship cabins, with round portholestyle windows and wooden beams overhead.
How do you like it? Claire asked as we were led to our table.
Cozy, I said. Exactly what I need after a week like this.
We ordered and slipped into easy conversation. The tension in me started to melt away as the music played, wine flowed, and the company felt right.
When the hot dishes arrived, I excused myself to the ladies room. As I walked past the booths, I took in the décor and the other diners mostly couples, a few groups of friends. Then I slowed down. In one of the private booths, a man sat alone, looking oddly familiar. Same jawline, same hairstyle, the habit of rubbing his chin when deep in thought. He had a glass of amber liquid likely whisky in front of him, glancing at his watch every few seconds.
My first instinct was to walk over and ask what he was doing there, but something held me back. I lingered in the shadows, watching.
He checked his watch again, then the door. His face was unusually serious, almost solemn. A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind from the mundane to the terrifying. Who was he waiting for? A business partner? A friend? A woman?
The worst idea hit me first: a woman. Thatd explain his constant lateness, his distracted air. A secret romance, meeting in a place with private booths where no one could see them.
My throat tightened, tears threatening. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Should I walk away and pretend I didnt see anything? Confront him? Wait for the other person and stare her down?
Before I could decide, an elderly lady in a crisp navy suit appeared at the entrance, hair neatly styled. I recognized her instantly Irene Thompson, Mikes mother. The host escorted her to the booth where her son was sitting.
I froze. Mike stood, kissed his mother on the cheek, helped her to her seat. They talked, both looking unusually serious.
Shaken, I retreated to the ladies room, staring at my reflection, trying to piece it together. Why had Mike lied about a meeting? Why was he meeting his mother secretly at a restaurant?
Wed always gotten along with his mum. Irene was poised, a bit reserved, never meddling in our marriage. We visited her on Sundays, called her regularly. No drama, no secrets.
Back at the table, I tried to focus on Claire, but my mind kept drifting back to what Id just seen. You look spaced out, she finally said. Something happen?
I hesitated. Should I tell her? To my best friend, of course.
I just saw Mike here, I whispered. He said he had a meeting, but hes here with his mother.
His mother? Claire asked. Did she just turn up unexpectedly? Or does she have an issue?
I dont know, I shook my head. Why lie? Why not just say Im meeting mum?
Maybe he wanted to surprise you? Claire suggested. Your anniversarys coming up, isnt it?
Right, our eighth anniversary is next week. Could he be planning something? But why keep it under wraps?
Maybe, I admitted, still unsure. But this isnt like Mike. He never likes surprises; hes always straightforward.
People change, especially after a promotion, Claire shrugged with a smile. Youll see, itll turn out to be something simple.
I wanted to believe her, but the uneasy feeling lingered.
I got home around eleven. Mike wasnt there yet. I took a shower, brewed a mug of herbal tea, and tried reading, but the words smeared. My mind ran through endless scenarios.
Around midnight the front door clicked. I tensed, listening for the familiar sounds his shoes, the coat being hung, footsteps down the hallway, the bedroom door opening slowly.
Cant sleep? he asked, peeking in. How was the catchup with Claire?
Fine, I forced a smile. How was your meeting?
He hesitated a beat, then replied, Productive. Looks like weve sealed the deal on all the main points.
He headed to the bathroom, the water running, and I felt my heart pound. He was still slipping lies, not even trying to explain the restaurant.
When he came back and slipped into bed, I pretended to be asleep. I didnt know what to ask, I just needed time to think.
In the early morning I was the first to wake. Mike lay sprawled across the bed, his face soft and almost boyish in sleep. I watched him, feeling a mix of affection and fear. What if something truly was off? What if there was a growing gap we hadnt noticed?
I slipped into the kitchen and started making breakfast. A Saturday morning, both of us at home, seemed the perfect moment for a proper chat. I could just ask, Why were you at the restaurant with mum when you said you had a meeting?
As I was frying eggs, Mikes phone buzzed on the countertop. I glanced at the screen Irene Thompson. My motherinlaw never called that early.
The phone kept ringing. I hesitated. Answer? It felt intrusive, but maybe something urgent?
On the fifth ring, a sleepy Mike shuffled in.
Whos up at this hour? he mumbled, spotting the name and frowning. Mum? Everything okay?
He answered, Hello? Mum, everything alright? Yeah, I havent looked at it yet. Hold on
He opened some app, his face lighting up. Got it! It worked! Mum, can you believe it? He turned to me, eyes bright. Tanya, Ill call you back in a sec. Thanks, mum!
He hung up, looking a bit flustered.
Tash, I said quietly, I saw you yesterday at Silent Cove with your mum.
Mikes eyes widened. You were there? Why didnt you come over?
Because you told me you had a meeting, I tried to stay calm. Why lie?
He ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit ruffled. I didnt want you to find out too early. It was meant to be a surprise for our anniversary.
A surprise? I asked. What kind of surprise?
He took a deep breath. Remember that country house we looked at last summer? The one with the big veranda and the apple orchard? You said it was your dream home.
I nodded slowly. Of course I remembered. Wed driven past it on a barbecue at a colleagues place and saw the listing. It was beautiful but out of our reach then.
They put it back on the market a month ago, he continued. For a much lower price. I took a loan, put my bonus into it, and Mum sold some of her shares to help. Yesterday we met to iron out the final paperwork. This morning the documents arrived. Its ours now. I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary, but I got stuck in the coverup.
I stood there, stunned, a warm feeling mixing with a pinch of sadness.
Thats incredible, I said. But why keep it secret? Why the meetings?
Because I was scared it might fall through, he admitted. There were so many redtape hurdles, and I didnt want to raise your hopes only to let them down. When it finally clicked, I thought it was too late to change the story. Im sorry, Tanya. I should have been honest.
Yes, I shouldve just asked instead of spiralling, I replied.
You thought I was having an affair? he laughed softly. I was terrified for a second. Then I saw your mum and got completely confused.
I looked down, a little embarrassed. Just a flash of imagination. It didnt help.
He pulled me close, grinning. Silly goose. My only romance is with you and now our new house.
Speaking of the house, I smiled, when can we see it?
Even today, he said, planting a kiss on my forehead. I was about to suggest a weekend trip to check it out, see what needs fixing, what furniture we need.
Then lets have breakfast and get ready, I said, feeling the tension ease. And we must thank your mum properly for her help.
We sat at the kitchen table, sketching plans for the new place, and I felt the weight of the past weeks lift. Sometimes the smallest untruth hides the biggest gift. The trick is to trust each other and not be afraid to ask straight questions.
