The Secret Behind the Closed Door: A Tale of Betrayal and Heartbreak
Emily returned to her flat in Manchester, exhausted after a long day. In the hallway, she was met by her husband, James, his expression tight with tension.
“Where were you?” he snapped, crossing his arms.
“I went to see your mum—dropped off some roast and shepherd’s pie,” Emily replied calmly, hanging up her coat.
“I told you not to go round there!” he shot back, irritated.
“She rang me, asked me to come over,” Emily explained, surprised by his tone.
“What did she say?” James’s voice grew harder.
“Nothing much,” she shrugged.
“Don’t lie to me! Did she let something slip about my secret?” he blurted out.
“Secret? What secret?” Emily froze, staring at him as unease crept in. “What are you on about?”
Emily had spent Sunday preparing dinner in their spacious flat, inherited from her late mother. Roast beef—James’s favourite—along with mashed potatoes, veg, and a proper Yorkshire pudding. She’d packed leftovers into containers for the week ahead.
James had gone to his mum’s the day before. That evening, he’d called to say he’d stay over—too late to come back. Emily hadn’t minded; her mother-in-law was getting on, and she needed help. Emily had lost her own mother seven years ago, and this flat was all she had left. Three bedrooms, a decent neighbourhood—perfect for them. The kids were grown now—their son married, their daughter at uni in another city. They rarely visited—work and studies kept them busy.
But lately, something had changed. James had become distant, brooding. When she’d suggested a trip to the seaside, he’d refused, claiming he was tired. Even a cinema trip was met with disinterest. He’d started visiting his mum more often, sometimes staying for hours. Emily had offered to have her move in—there was plenty of space—but James had snapped, saying they’d never get along. His mum was forgetful, he said, prone to making a mess.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone. It was her mother-in-law. Odd—she usually only called James.
“Emily, love, hello,” her voice was frail but warm. “Haven’t seen you in ages. You haven’t made a roast by any chance?”
“I have,” Emily smiled. “James loves it.”
“So do I, but it’s a faff now. Pour me some in a tub, will you? James can bring it over. He’s probably still asleep?”
“Asleep?” Emily frowned. “Is he there?”
“No,” her mother-in-law sounded puzzled. “Haven’t seen him in weeks. Pops in now and then, then off he goes. Ask him to bring your roast.”
“Alright,” Emily replied, bewildered. “I’ll put it in a flask so it stays warm.”
“Thanks, love. James is lucky to have you.”
Emily hung up, a knot forming in her stomach. If James hadn’t been at his mum’s, where had he been? Dark thoughts swirled. Was he lying? Stop it, don’t jump to the worst, she told herself. But the unease lingered.
James came home.
“Jim, your mum asked if you’d bring her some roast,” Emily said carefully.
“What do you mean?” He frowned. “I just came from hers.”
“She rang, asked for the roast,” Emily repeated, watching him closely.
“I told you not to answer her calls!” he barked. “She just goes on and on! What else did she say?”
“Nothing,” Emily said, her stomach tightening.
“I’ll take it next time,” he muttered. “She’s got a whole roast there already.”
“Right. Come eat then.”
“Not hungry, had mine at Mum’s.”
“Let’s go for a walk—it’s nice out,” Emily suggested.
“Walked enough already,” he cut her off. “Three hours in the park with Mum, legs are killing me. You eat, I’m having a lie-down.”
James was asleep in minutes. Emily sat, watching him, dread gnawing at her. His mum said one thing, he said another. It was an hour’s drive, but Emily decided to go. She’d take the roast and find out the truth. Was his mum really forgetful, or was James hiding something?
She called a cab and slipped out quietly.
Her mother-in-law opened the door before Emily had even knocked properly.
“Emily?” She looked surprised. “Thought you were James.”
“You don’t ask who’s at the door?” Emily frowned. “What if it’s strangers?”
“Was expecting James,” her mother-in-law smiled. “Who else would it be? Come in. Where is he? Not coming again?”
“He’s busy,” Emily dodged. “Brought you the roast, some leftovers. Have you eaten?”
“Just a bite,” the older woman said. “You promised you’d send James.”
“Eat up, it’s hot, brought gravy too,” Emily moved to the kitchen. “I’ll put the rest in the fridge.”
The fridge was bare—no sign of the roast James had claimed was there. Hardly any food at all.
“Your fridge is nearly empty,” Emily noted. “Let me pop to the shops for you?”
“If it’s no trouble,” her mother-in-law brightened. “Wanted to go to the park with my friend, but she’s poorly. Fancy joining me?”
“Course,” Emily nodded.
The more she saw, the weirder it got. No roast, his mum hadn’t been out, and she spoke perfectly clearly—no forgetfulness.
“Glad you came,” her mother-in-law said as they walked. “Need new shoes, hate shopping alone.”
“We’ll find some,” Emily agreed.
They spent three hours out—too long shoe-shopping to make the park. Emily tried to pay, but her mother-in-law insisted. They sat on a bench outside her house.
“Best be off,” Emily said.
“Come again,” her mother-in-law smiled. “Don’t need the roast, just the company. Plenty of money, my late husband left me comfortable. Why doesn’t James visit? Cross with me? He asked me for money—you buying a flat for your son?”
“No,” Emily was taken aback. “They’re getting a mortgage.”
“That’s what he wanted it for,” she sighed. “Don’t have that much. This place’ll be yours eventually, he can do what he likes with it then.”
On the way home, Emily’s mind raced. James had asked his mum for money? Why hadn’t he told her? Debt? Gambling? Worse—an affair? He’d been on edge, vanishing, lying. At least his mum hadn’t given him anything.
“Where’ve you been?” James met her in the hallway, eyes blazing.
“I know everything,” Emily said quietly, holding his gaze. “We need to talk.”
“Where were you? With some bloke?” he shouted. “I’m your husband! Father of your kids! You can’t just—”
“What are you on about?” Emily was stunned.
“Tell me who you were with! Some young lad? Or an older one with cash?”
“Why are you talking about affairs?” Her voice trembled.
“You found out about mine, didn’t you?” he spat. “I have a right to know too!”
“WHAT?!” Emily felt the floor drop beneath her.
Her theory about gambling collapsed. An affair? Which was worse—a gambler or a cheat? Her thoughts spun.
“Are you joking?” She clenched her fists. “What’s funny about this? You think I’ve got someone?”
“Why not?” he said coldly. “You had me. Now—no one but the kids. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Emily, wait,” James stepped closer. “Think about it. What will the kids say? I’m your husband. And that other woman—it’s over.”
“Especially since you didn’t come home last night,” she said bitterly.
“I was at Mum’s!”
“I WAS at your mum’s! You weren’t there!” Emily yelled. “Nothing to say? Pack your bags. You’ve got an hour.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” he looked helpless. “We fell out. It’s complicated. Wanted to buy a flat, Mum wouldn’t lend me the deposit.”
“You just admitted it,” Emily said coldly. “Well done.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s in the past. Won’t happen again. But you’re partly to blame.”
“*I’m* to blame?!” Emily choked on the words. “For what? Bad cooking? Gaining weight? I’m fine—look at yourself! You’ve got fifty minutes left.”
“Where do I go?” his voice cracked.
“To your young, pretty girlfriend.”
“She’s got a tiny room in a dingy flat,” he muttered.
“Congratulations on the upgrade,” Emily said flatly. “ClockJames moved out, his mother’s disapproval weighing heavy on him, while Emily found peace in the quiet of her home, knowing she’d made the right choice.
