**Tuesday, 12th March**
I paused by the bathroom door, my fingers gripping the frame.
“Alex, are you absolutely sure you haven’t forgotten anything? Shouldn’t you double-check?”
“Angel, it’s all packed. The suitcase is bursting!” His voice carried over the sound of the shower, but there was something off—a hesitation, a flicker of unease.
I stepped back. I’d seen the suitcase, but what exactly he’d stuffed inside? No idea.
“Make me a strong coffee, will you? Black, no milk,” he called out, calmer now.
On autopilot, I headed to the kitchen. Ground coffee into the pot, added water, a pinch of salt. We’ve got a proper coffee machine, but he always asks me to brew it this way—says it tastes like his nan’s. And I do it. Habit. Love.
“Divine smell of a divine drink!” He strode in, running a hand through damp hair before dropping into his chair. “Courier’s coming—sign for the parcel. Ordered new car covers.”
“Didn’t pay upfront?” I sank into the armchair opposite.
“Cash on delivery,” he sighed. “And, bloody hell, this business trip—came out of nowhere. Couldn’t say no, you know how it is. Career first. Senior manager, after all.”
“Who knew ‘senior managers’ still dashed off on last-minute trips…”
He shrugged, grabbed his phone—pretending to work while he had time. Stood. Left.
My eyes flicked to his empty mug—didn’t clear it. Fine, I’d let it slide. He’s frazzled, first business trip, nerves…
Then—ping. A message.
Opened it.
*”Angel, Alex is lying. He’s flying to Greece with Marina Pavlov. Stop him before he does something stupid.”*
Emma. His sister.
I froze. Not a joke. Emma doesn’t joke about things like this. So—truth.
Panic clawed up my ribs. Sinking onto the stool, I drained the glass of water in front of me. Then another. Wanted to scream. Smash something. Instead—silence. Ice in my veins.
He knew. Planned it. Took our joint savings, packed his things, lied about the trip. And me? I brewed his bloody coffee.
I grabbed my phone. Checked the bank app. Twelve grand. Minus three. Already withdrawn. Mostly my money.
Marina… I knew about her. School sweetheart. He’d told me. Emma filled in the gaps. Marina left him, came back, left again. Now—back in the picture. Old ghosts.
Why not just say it? Why lie like a coward?
Action. I’d drain the account. File for divorce. Courier his things. Tomorrow’s presentation? I’ll nail it. Then, holiday. Not Greece. Alone.
He returned, suit sharp, bag in hand.
“Off, then. Thought I’d leave early,” he announced.
“Safe trip,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Angel, what’s with the tone?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Going to miss you.”
“Doubt you’ll have time.”
“Not seeing me off?”
“You know the way. I’ll do the washing up.”
He left. Suitcase wheels scraped the floor. Door slammed.
One thought—change the locks. Tomorrow. Called the building manager—sorted.
Only then did I let myself cry. Raw. Ugly.
Phone buzzed again.
*”Angel, you okay?”* Emma.
Called her.
“Where’d you hear this?” Flat.
“From Marina’s friend. They’re already packing. Couldn’t stay quiet, Angel.”
“Cheers. Didn’t stop him. Let him go. His choice.”
“Christ, what an idiot. Letting her walk all over him again—”
“Let her. Just don’t tell him I know.”
“Course not. And honestly? Can’t even look at him right now.”
“Emma… thanks. Transferring the rest to Mum. Better with her. Then, divorce.”
“Good on you, Angel. Stay strong.”
Hung up. Checked the account—another grand gone. Right. Instant transfer. Every last penny.
“Mum?”
“Angel? Saw Alex off?”
“Transferring twelve grand. Can’t leave it in mine—he’ll claim half in the divorce. This way, it’s safe.”
“What’s happened?”
“He’s in Greece. With her.”
“Oh, love…”
“Done. Free now. He never wanted kids—I do. Have them on my own.”
“Sweetheart… maybe wait? Veronica’s nephew—”
“Mum. Not now. Transferring. Talk later.”
Only after hanging up did I finally breathe. Hurt. But lighter.
