— I can’t believe you changed the locks! — he exclaimed indignantly. — I was stuck outside for half an hour…

I dont get it, did you change the locks? Max started, irritated. Ive been standing there for half an hour

Your things are with Emily, Claire cut in. Go get them if you two are really made for each other.

Max went pale. The knot at the base of his neck tightened, his jaw trembled.

What nonsense? Whos this Emily?

Jenny, youve got the day off today, havent you? Claire raised an eyebrow, looking at the hairdresser whose cheeks were pink from the cold.

Jenny swirled the snow off her bright auburn hair and hurriedly pulled on her coat.

Oh, Claire, a client just rang she needs an urgent wedding updo. She called just an hour ago.

Im on my way, Jenny said, clearly nervous, fumbling with the sleeves of her dress. You dont mind, do you? Ive pencilled it into my schedule.

Claire simply waved a hand. People work, thank God. She loved her little salon precisely for its cosy, familylike atmosphere.

Now it looked like this: Roger was mixing a tricky dye, chatting quietly with a client; Laura and Paula were on a break between manicures, sipping tea with a slice of fruit cake someone had left on the table; Katherine, by the window, was wiping down her tools.

The room was warm, snug, scented with coffee and styling products.

Maxs text buzzed in Claires pocket: Love, Ill be late today. Important meeting with the investors.

Claire smiled a husband who always gives a headsup when hell be late. Thoughtful.

Just the other day hed bought her favourite scones for no reason other than to make her smile.

The front door swung open, letting a gust of cold air in.

Standing on the doorstep was a tall young woman in a coat with a plush fur collar. Her polished boots clicked, and she clutched leather gloves.

Good afternoon, she said coolly, scanning the salon with a keen eye. I need to speak with you.

Claire gave her the usual welcoming smile.

Im listening.

In private, the visitor said, smoothing her perfectly styled blonde hair.

Something in her tone set Claire on edge. She led the stranger to the tiny office they called the managers room.

My names Emily, the woman said, sliding into a chair and crossing her legs. Im here about Max.

Claires heart hammered, but she kept her composure. Years of dealing with capricious clients had taught her to keep a steady face.

Which Max?

Your husband, Emily leaned forward a fraction. Listen whats your name again?

Claire.

Listen, Claire. I know youre ill. Thats why Max is too scared to file for divorce.

He worries hell hurt you, that your mind cant handle it. But it cant go on like this.

Weve loved each other for years. We could be happy if only we werent behaving like this.

Claire stared at her, feeling reality blur into a surreal dream.

Max? The Max who kissed her this morning before work?

The Max who spent an hour yesterday browsing holiday packages, saying, Wherever you want to go, love?

Ive thought a lot, Emily continued, rehearsing her speech. It would be fair to leave you half the flat. You understand that blackmailing your husband is disgraceful, dont you?

Claire exhaled slowly. Her thoughts rang clear as a bell.

I need some time, she said evenly. Can we talk tomorrow?

Emily hadnt expected that reaction. She blinked, her long lashes fluttering helplessly.

Of course Write down my number.

That night Max came home late, just as he promised. He smelled of his familiar aftershave and, faintly, Emilys perfume a scent Claire could now recognise unmistakably.

Fancy dinner? she asked, watching him slip off his shoes with his usual gesture.

I wouldnt say no, he grinned, planting a kiss on her cheek. Whats on the menu?

Seafood pasta. Your favourite.

He ate heartily, recounting his hectic day, asking how the salon was doing.

Everything was as it always had been, only now Claire saw the performance behind every gesture, every tone.

Five years, she thought, the words echoing in her temples. Five years of pretending.

She lay awake that night, listening to Maxs even breathing, recalling how they met, his courtship, his proposal.

When did the lies begin? From the start, or later? And why?

She ran the household, paid the bills, bought gifts for the whole family, even for his elderly aunt. She organised holidays, looked after his health, remembered vitamins and vaccinations.

And he he only paid the car loan for his pricey new vehicle a status symbol, plain and simple.

By morning her decision was firm. As Max kissed her goodbye and headed to work, Claire grabbed her phone and found yesterdays contact.

Hello, Emily? Its Claire. Lets meet today. Ive made my choice.

She methodically folded Maxs shirts, smoothing each crease.

The navyblue checked one, his favourite for important meetings; the crisp white one with French cuffs, a birthday gift from last year.

Five years of marriage now fit into two suitcases and a gym bag.

Emily called back, triumph ringing in her voice.

Im on my way! Taxis downstairs. Are you sure youve thought this through?

Absolutely, Claire replied calmly. If were selling the flat, we need to clear it out first.

Ill pack Maxs things, you take them. Ill speak to him later; hell be at yours this evening.

A pause hung in the line.

You know, Emily said hesitantly, youre rather sensible. I expected you to scream, threaten but youre just reasonable.

Claires lips curled. The selfassured woman who thought the world should dance to her tune.

Life teaches restraint, she replied dryly. The flats worth three hundred and twelve pounds, mind you.

Emily entered the flat in a pink coat, a designer handbag slung over her shoulder, stilettos clicking despite the icy pavement.

Oh, look, its his favourite sweater! she chirped, holding up a piece of clothing. And the cufflinks I gave him for New Years!

Claire froze. Those cufflinks were hers? Max had claimed he bought them on a business trip

Take everything, she said quietly. Including the bedding, its in a separate bag.

Emily hauled the suitcases into a taxi, constantly adjusting her hair, muttering about how Max was miserable in his marriage, how a man like him couldnt live beside she trailed off, casting Claire a judging glance. In any case, were meant for each other. Youll see, hell blossom beside me!

Claire watched in silence as the stranger rummaged through her home. What stories had Max told this new lover?

When Emily shut the door behind her, Claire sank onto the couch. The empty flat echoed with silence.

Five years of shared life had shrunk to a handful of memories and they turned out to be lies.

The phone rang again it was Max.

Love, fancy a pizza tonight? Im starving! 🙂

Claire smiled. Even his emojis were there a caring, attentive husband, the one shed always been proud of.

Friends would envy: Five years together and still like newlyweds!

At seven oclock, the doorbell rang. Max stood on the threshold, dishevelled and bewildered.

I dont get it, did you change the locks? he began, irritated. I couldnt get in for half an hour

Your things are with Emily, Claire cut in. Go collect them if you truly are made for each other.

Max turned ashen. The lump in his throat rose, his jaw quivered.

What rubbish is this? Whos Emily?

Stop, Claire said wearily. She came to the salon yesterday. She told me everything about your love, about my blackmail. By the way, why am I ill? What did you tell her?

Claire, listen

No, you listen. The flat is mine. As for the car, well split it in the divorce; its joint property. And Im perfectly healthy.

She slammed the door on his pale face. His hands shook, but a strange calm settled inside her.

The phone rang almost immediately it was Emily.

What does my flat mean? she shouted. You promised!

I never promised anything, Claire snapped. You decided to split everything here. By the way, have a look at your own prince.

Hed even taken out a loan for his own car his only contribution to the family budget.

She hit end and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Then she walked slowly through the nowquiet rooms, getting used to the new stillness.

Empty shelves stared back from the wardrobe, the bathroom was missing his shaving kit, the kitchen no longer held his favourite mug with the silly slogan.

Five years evaporated, leaving a hollow and an odd, bittersweet relief.

Claire moved to the window. Snow swirled outside, streetlights flickered in neighbouring windows, life went on.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

Jenny? Remember you mentioned a hendo this weekend? Ive changed my mind Ill be there with you.

And as the line clicked, Claire realised that freedom, however painful at first, was the truest kind of love she could ever give herself.