Ah, my dears, gather close and I shall tell you a tale that was passed down to me by an old friend in this rest home where they’ve tucked me away. With naught else to do but listen, I’ve heard many a story in my time, and this one comes from a neighbour’s daughter. So listen well, for this is what befell Emily and her husband, Thomas.
They lived, the pair of them, in a cosy little flat on the outskirts of London, five peaceful years together. Emily was lively as a sparrow, always flitting off on business trips for the event company she worked for. Thomas, on the other hand, was quiet as a church mouse, spending his days hunched over his computer, writing code. Oh, they got on well enough, though they bickered now and then, as all married folk do.
But one day, my dears, everything went pear-shaped. Emily was meant to fly off to some conference, but as luck would have it, the day went awry. Her alarm never sounded, the cab was late, and at the airport—queues longer than a Sunday sermon. By the time she reached the gate, the plane had flown without her. Fuming, she rang Thomas, but there was no answer. «Blast it, he’s got those ruddy headphones on again,» she muttered and decided to head home. The conference could wait.
When Emily returned, she opened the door to find—good heavens!—a strange coat on the rack, pink as candyfloss, and a leopard-print scarf she’d never owned. From the kitchen came laughter—girlish and bright—and Thomas chattering away. Silent as a shadow, Emily crept closer, luggage still in hand, and peeked in. There sat a young woman, no more than twenty-five, in a tight-fitting dress, sipping tea from Emily’s favourite cup—the one with the kittens. And Thomas, in his ratty old jumper, grinning like it was Christmas.
«What in blazes is this?» Emily roared, storming in like a tempest.
Thomas near leapt out of his skin, nearly dropping his phone, while the girl—some Charlotte—just gaped, teacup frozen in her hands.
«Emily! You—you were meant to be away!» Thomas stammered, pale as flour.
«Aye, I was! But lucky for me, I came back early!» Emily slammed her suitcase down with a thud. «Who’s this? And why is she drinking from MY cup?»
Charlotte fidgeted, setting the cup aside. «I—erm—I’m Charlotte. Just popped by—»
«Just popped by?» Emily’s eyes narrowed to slits. «Into my home? While I’m gone? For a nice cuppa, was it?»
Thomas floundered. «She’s a colleague, Em! Just came to fetch a flash drive, I’d promised her some files!»
«A flash drive?» Emily let out a bitter laugh. «And for that, she’s giggling away like she owns the place? Think I’m daft, do you, Thomas?»
Charlotte, red as a beet, scrambled for her bag. «I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I’ll go.»
«Oh, aye, off with you!» Emily snapped, pointing to the door.
The moment Charlotte scurried out, Emily rounded on Thomas. «Right then, out with it! How often do these little ‘colleagues’ drop by for tea while I’m away?»
Thomas mumbled something about it being the first time, but Emily wasn’t having it. She snatched his phone, scrolling—and there they were. Messages from Charlotte: «Alone? 😏», «Fancy a visit?» Well, that was the last straw.
«Alone? Fancy a visit?» she shrieked, hurling the phone onto the sofa. «Five years together, and this is how you repay me?»
Thomas babbled excuses, but Emily, tears streaming, shouted that she’d trusted him, and he’d turned their home into a blasted train station. The neighbours surely had an earful, but Emily didn’t care. She grabbed her suitcase and stormed off to her mother’s.
«See how you like it without me! And without your precious Charlotte—I’ll make sure she regrets ever stepping foot in my company!» The door slammed so hard the windows rattled.
Thomas stood there, staring at that kitten-patterned cup, thoughts whirling. Meanwhile, Emily sat in a cab, texting her friends: «Maggie, gather the girls. I’ve a plan for revenge.»
And what do you think happened, my dears? Emily wasn’t bluffing. She sent screenshots of Charlotte’s messages straight to her supervisor. Thomas tried calling, begging forgiveness, but she’d already filed for divorce. Six months later, they say she met a dashing pilot—joked she’d never miss a flight with him.
Ah, such is life, my dears. Love’s a fragile thing, like that little cup with the kittens. So cherish what’s yours, lest it all go pear-shaped before you know it.