“Have you completely lost your mind?” Emily waved the papers right under her husband’s nose. “How on earth did I sign away my share? When did I ever agree to this?”

“Emily, calm down,” James reached for her hand, but she snatched it away as if burnt. “Let’s talk about this properly.”

“Properly?” Her voice cracked into a shout. “You tricked me! You told me these were inheritance papers from your aunt, but it turns out I was signing away my half of our house!”

James looked away, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes in the living room, silent. Emily couldn’t stop.

“Twenty-eight years we’ve been together! Twenty-eight! All this time, I thought we were a family! And you were scheming to cut me out!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” James finally spoke. “No one’s cutting you out. It’s just simpler for everyone.”

“Simpler? For who? For your precious Charlotte?”

At the mention of the name, James flinched and met her gaze.

“Charlotte has nothing to do with this.”

“Like hell she doesn’t!” Emily flung the papers to the floor. “I’m not blind! Did you think I wouldn’t notice you whispering on the phone these past six months? Or your new haircut, the cologne?”

James sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette. His hands trembled slightly.

“Emily, life’s complicated. Things don’t always go as planned.”

“Oh, brilliant!” She threw up her hands. “They don’t, do they? And here I was thinking we’d done alright. Raised Sophie, made a home, bought the cottage. Turns out, none of it mattered!”

Emily sank into the armchair opposite him. Anger was giving way to hurt and confusion.

“James, explain it to me. How can someone live thirty years with a woman, then just betray her? How does that happen?”

“I never meant to deceive you,” he exhaled smoke. “Circumstances changed.”

“What circumstances? What did Charlotte say to make you throw your own wife under the bus?”

“She’s not to blame,” James shook his head. “This was my decision.”

“Yours?” Emily scoffed. “You’ve never made a decision in your life! I got you your first job when you couldn’t land one after uni. I pulled strings to secure this house because you were too timid to ask the boss. I even buy your socks because you can’t be bothered to shop for yourself!”

“Exactly!” James suddenly snapped. “It’s always you! You decide everything! What am I, your errand boy?”

“Then decide something yourself!” Emily shot back. “Just don’t lie to do it!”

She stood and began gathering the scattered papers. Her hands shook, the words blurring before her.

“Emily, listen,” James stubbed out the cigarette and approached her. “We’re not young anymore. I’m fifty-three, you’re fifty. Maybe it’s time to admit we’ve grown apart.”

“Grown apart?” She straightened slowly. “When? Yesterday you asked me to make you shepherd’s pie. The day before, you were moaning about your back. When exactly did we ‘grow apart’?”

“Not literally,” James hesitated. “I mean, we’ve become strangers.”

“Speak for yourself,” Emily folded the papers neatly. “I’m not a stranger. I’m still your wife.”

“But you must see this can’t go on?”

“What can’t? Living together or lying to each other?”

James didn’t answer. He marched to the kitchen, clattering the kettle. Emily stayed in the living room, studying the documents.

There was her signature—bold, confident. She remembered the day James brought them home. Said his Aunt Margaret had left him the cottage, but the paperwork needed her signature.

“Just sign here, here, and here,” he’d said, pointing. “It’s a formality, but they won’t process it without you.”

And she’d trusted him. Didn’t even read what she was signing. Why would she? He was her husband.

Now she knew there was no Aunt Margaret. Just a solicitor who’d witnessed her surrendering her share of the house to James.

“Tea?” James called from the kitchen.

“No.”

“Emily, come here. Let’s talk properly.”

She sighed and walked in. James sat at the table with two steaming mugs.

“Sit,” he nodded to the chair.

“I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself.” He took a sip. “Look, I know you’re upset. But let’s discuss this calmly.”

“Calmly?” Emily leaned against the counter. “My husband deceives me, and I should stay calm?”

“I didn’t deceive you. I just… didn’t tell you everything.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not! I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you did. Spectacularly.”

“Emily, understand—I had to handle this somehow. Charlotte’s pregnant.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Emily felt the ground tilt beneath her.

“What?” she whispered.

“She’s having my baby.”

Emily sank onto the chair. Her head spun, vision swimming.

“How old is she?” Her voice sounded hollow.

“Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight,” Emily repeated. “Same as Sophie.”

“Yes,” James nodded. “Roughly.”

“And now?”

“Now… I want to marry her.”

“And me?”

“You’ll… find happiness.”

Emily laughed, a raw, broken sound.

“At fifty? What makes you think that?”

“You’re still beautiful.”

“How charming,” she wiped her eyes. “Touching, really.”

James reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“Don’t.”

“Emily, I never meant for this to happen. It just did.”

“Just did?” She stood abruptly. “You ‘just happened’ to meet a girl? ‘Just happened’ to sleep with her? ‘Just happened’ to get her pregnant?”

“Don’t be crude,” James grimaced. “It was beautiful.”

“Beautiful!” She scoffed. “And thirty years with me—what was that? Ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words. We’d become… comfortable.”

“Comfortable.” Emily shook her head. “Right. Comfort is bad. Better to chase passion with a girl half your age.”

“Age is just a number when you’re in love.”

“Love?” She stared at him. “You love her?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever love me?”

James hesitated.

“Of course I did.”

“Liar,” she cut in. “You wouldn’t have betrayed me if you did.”

“I wanted to handle this civilly.”

“Civil is being honest. Not tricking your wife into signing away her home.”

James stood and walked to the window, watching children play football in the garden below.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, back turned.

“The truth. All of it.”

“Fine.” He faced her. “The truth is I’m tired. Tired of your managing, of you deciding everything. Tired of predictability.”

“Go on.”

“Charlotte… she makes me feel alive. Like a man, not a pet.”

“And?”

“I want a fresh start. To raise my child. To feel needed.”

“And I don’t need you?”

“You do,” he paused. “Just… differently. Like a housekeeper. A nurse.”

“A nurse?” Her voice turned icy.

“Not a nurse. But you know what I mean.”

“I do. You want me to step aside for your new family.”

“Don’t put it like that.”

“How, then? Poetically? Sorry, I don’t speak self-justification.”

Emily grabbed her handbag and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” James asked.

“To a solicitor. To see if I can undo what I signed.”

“Emily, don’t be foolish.”

“The foolishness was thirty years ago,” she turned in the doorway. “When I said ‘I do’.”

Outside, the sun shone. People strolled, children laughed. Life went on. But Emily’s world had shattered.

Walking familiar streets, she remembered their courting days. In this very park, James had proposed—awkward, stammering, but sincere. She’d found it endearing then, his shyness.

Now, that same man had coldly deceived her to steal half her home.

The solicitor’s office was in the city centre. Emily climbed to the third floor and knocked on the door marked “Mr. Thompson, Solicitor.”

“Come in,” said a bespectacled man. “How can I help?”

Emily told the story, handed over the papers. The solicitor examined them, shaking his head at intervals.

“Tricky situation,” he finally said. “Legally, you did sign away your share. But since you were misled, we mightEmily left the office with a sliver of hope clutching the solicitor’s card, knowing the battle ahead would be long, but she refused to let betrayal be the final chapter of her story.