“Husband Returns with a Surprise”

“What’s the meaning of this, David?” Theresa’s voice trembled with outrage. “Do you honestly expect me to tolerate this… this stranger in my home?”

“Love, just let me explain,” David fidgeted with his car keys, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“What’s there to explain?” Theresa jabbed a finger toward the young woman lingering by the front door, suitcase in hand. “You’ve brought your mistress into our house! After thirty years of marriage!”

The girl shifted awkwardly, eyes glued to the floor, clearly wishing she could disappear.

“Theresa, she’s not my mistress,” David sighed. “This is Emma. My daughter.”

Theresa froze as if struck by lightning.

“Your what? What on earth are you talking about?”

“Sit down. There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

But Theresa remained rooted to the spot, glaring at her husband.

“David, I don’t understand. What daughter? We have Christopher—that’s it! We don’t have any other children!”

“I do,” he said quietly. “She’s twenty-nine.”

Theresa’s legs threatened to give way. She slumped onto the hallway bench.

“Twenty-nine? But… we were already married then!”

“We were.”

David moved toward her, but she recoiled.

“Don’t touch me. Spit it out. Now.”

Emma, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up.

“Maybe I should go? I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Theresa snapped. “If you’re here, you’ll hear it all. I want the truth.”

They shuffled into the living room. Theresa perched in her armchair, David flopped onto the sofa, and Emma hovered uncertainly by the door.

“Sit down, love,” Theresa said suddenly, softer than before. “Don’t look so scared.”

Emma cautiously took the farthest edge of the sofa.

“Start talking,” Theresa demanded.

David took a deep breath.

“Remember when I went to Birmingham for that three-month project? Christopher was little, always poorly—you were exhausted.”

“Of course I remember. What of it?”

“Well… I met Sarah. Emma’s mum. She worked at the project office. We… grew close. I never planned it, Theresa. It just happened.”

“Nothing ‘just happens,’” Theresa said icily. “You made a choice.”

“I did. When the job ended, I came home—to you and Christopher. I swore I’d never cheat again.”

“But she had your child.”

“Sarah only told me six months after Emma was born. Sent a letter to my office. Said she didn’t want anything from me, just thought I should know.”

Theresa turned to Emma.

“Did you know about us? About your father’s real family?”

Emma nodded. “Mum told me when I turned eighteen. Said Dad lived in another city, had his own life. That he was a decent man, but… things just turned out this way.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Honestly? Angry. I wanted a dad, like everyone else. But Mum said adults make mistakes, and everyone pays for them.”

Theresa shot David a furious look.

“So, you’ve known about her for thirty years and said nothing?”

“I knew. But what could I do? Destroy our family? Leave you with a toddler?”

“You could’ve told the truth!”

“Maybe. But I didn’t.” David stood and walked to the window. “I sent money. Every month. Not much, but I helped.”

Theresa narrowed her eyes. “Where’d that come from, then?”

“Odd jobs. Remember when I ‘worked late’ or had ‘weekend jobs’ for mates?”

“You said it was odd DIY work.”

“It was. But the cash went to Emma and Sarah.”

Theresa buried her face in her hands. It was too much to process.

“And why’s she here now?” she asked, gesturing at Emma.

“Mum died,” Emma whispered. “A month ago. Cancer.”

“Oh, love… I’m sorry.” Theresa’s tone softened despite herself.

“Yeah. It… it’s been hard. Just us two, no other family. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Emma called me at work,” David added. “Said Sarah asked her to reach out before she passed. Gave her my number.”

“And you just… what? Rushed off?”

“I went to the funeral. Told her I wouldn’t abandon her.”

Theresa paced the room.

“So, your ‘business seminar in London’ was actually you burying your ex-lover?”

“…Yes. I’m sorry, Theresa.”

“Sorry for what? Thirty years of lies? Spending our money on another family? Or bringing this girl into my home?”

“Emma’s not to blame,” David said firmly. “She’s got no one—no job, no savings, nowhere to live.”

“No husband? Boyfriend?”

Emma shook her head. “No. I was caring for Mum. Never had time.”

Theresa stopped in front of her.

“Listen, Emma. I’m sorry about your mum. And I know you’re not responsible for whatever mess these two made decades ago. But you’ve walked into a catastrophe.”

“I know. I even suggested a hostel, but Dad insisted I stay here temporarily.”

“Dad!” Theresa scoffed. “You call him ‘Dad’?”

“Well… he is my father.”

“A father who missed thirty years of your life!”

“He still helped,” Emma said quietly. “Money, birthday cards. Mum showed me his letters.”

Theresa whirled on David. “You wrote to her?”

“Now and then.”

“When’s the last time you wrote me a letter? Even a sticky note?”

David sighed. “Theresa, it’s different—”

“Different? You’re home every night, shovelling dinner, glued to the telly! When do we ever talk? The weather? Grocery prices?”

“Mum, what’s going on?” Christopher appeared in the doorway. “Heard shouting from upstairs.”

Theresa and David exchanged glances. Their son knew nothing about a sister.

“Sit down, love,” Theresa said wearily. “You’ve got some news too.”

Christopher frowned at the stranger. “Who’s this?”

“This is Emma,” David said. “Your sister.”

“My what?”

“No jokes, son. Your father’s been hiding another child for thirty years.”

Christopher dropped into a chair.

“Wait—so, Dad cheated on you?”

“It’s complicated—”

“Did you or didn’t you?”

David swallowed. “I… did.”

“And she’s the result?”

“Yes.”

Christopher rubbed his temples. “Blimey. I need a minute.”

“We all do,” Theresa muttered. “But your father dropped this bomb without warning.”

“Mum, how do you feel?” Christopher asked.

“How do I feel? My husband’s been living a double life. Lying daily. Funnelling our money to his secret family!”

“Not secret,” David cut in. “Emma’s my daughter.”

“She’s a stranger to me,” Theresa shot back. “And to you!”

“Don’t speak for me,” Christopher said. “If she’s my sister, I’d like to know her.”

Emma stood abruptly. “Maybe I should go? I don’t want to cause more trouble.”

“And go where?” Theresa asked. “Got savings? A job?”

Emma shook her head. “No. Everything went to Mum’s funeral. But I’ll find work.”

“Doing what?”

“Nursing. But the pay’s rubbish—not enough for rent.”

Theresa studied her properly—thin, pale, dressed plainly. A life of struggle.

“Qualifications?”

“Nursing diploma. Wanted to study further, but Mum got sick.”

Christopher turned to Emma. “What do you like doing?”

“Reading. Classical music. Cooking—Mum taught me.”

“Alright.” He faced his parents. “We can’t chuck her out. She’s still family.”

Theresa groaned. “And what do I tell the neighbours? They’ve seen your dad bring a young woman home with luggage!”

“Mum, who cares? If anyone asks, we’ll explain. Rest can gossip all they like.”

Emma hesitantly stood. “Theresa, can I make dinner? Least I can do.”

“Fine. Let’s see your skills.”

As Emma and Christopher disappeared into the kitchen, Theresa and David were left alone.

“Theresa,” David began, “I know you must hate me—”

“I don’t hate you. That’d mean I still care. I don’t.”

“Then what now?”

“No idea. I need time—to decide if I can forgive you. Or even want to.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Divorce. Sell the house. Split everything, go our separate ways.”

David winced. “Theresa—”

“Go. Get to know your daughter properly. Thirty years late, but better than never.”

As he left, Theresa staredAs the smell of Emma’s cooking filled the house—something surprisingly comforting—Theresa realized, with a quiet ache, that life would never be the same again, but perhaps, in time, it could still be good.