“I Know All About Your Affairs,” Said His Wife. Victor Went Cold. No, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t e…

I know about your dalliances, Sarah says, her voice steady.

David freezes.

He doesnt flinch. He doesnt turn pale. But inside, he feels like hes been crumpled up, balled in a tight knot, as if hes a scrap of paper being squashed before its tossed away. He just stops, completely still.

Sarah stands at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Its all so familiarher back turned to him, a spotted apron tied at the waist, the aroma of frying onions wafting through the kitchen. The whole scene feels warm, homely. But her tone cuts through the air like the News at Ten.

For a moment, David wonders if he misheard. Maybe she said something about cucumbersI know where you can get a good deal? Or the chap on the top floor, whos selling his car?

But no.

All of your dalliances, Sarah repeats, still not turning round.

Thats when the chill seeps in properly. Because theres no hint of anger in her voice. No sadness. None of the things hes always dreaded: tears, accusations, smashed china. Theres just the truth, delivered as calmly as if shed told him they were out of milk.

Fifty-two years on this earth, and twenty-eight of them spent with this woman. He knows Sarah as well as he knows the back of his hand: the little mole on her left shoulder, the way she wrinkles her nose at soup, that soft sigh in the morning. But he has never heard her sound like this.

Sarah he croaks, but his throat gives out.

He coughs. Tries again.

Sar, what are you talking about?

She turns, finally. Looks at hima long, level gaze, somehow both familiar and strangely distant, as though shes flicking through an old photograph thats faded with time.

Lets start with Megan. From your accounts department. 2018, if Im not mistaken.

Davids knees nearly give way. He isnt exaggeratingthe ground is falling from beneath his feet, leaving him stranded in mid-air.

God. Megan?

Even her face is a blur in his mind. Office party, maybe? Or after? Something brief. Nothing that mattered. Hed promised himself: never again.

And Sophie, Sarah continues evenly. The girl who approached you at the gym. That was two years ago.

His mouth works silently.

How does she know about Sophie?

Sarah switches off the hob. She slips off her apron, careful and deliberate, folds it in half and sets it aside. Sitting down at the table, she looks over at him.

Do you want to know how I found outher voice is perfectly collectedor would you rather know why I stayed quiet?

David says nothing. Its not that he doesnt want to respondhe just cant.

The first time, Sarah begins, was ten years back. You started coming home late from work. Fridays, especially. You came in with a cheerful glint in your eye and a whiff of new perfume.

She offers a short, bitter laugh.

I thought I was imagining it. Maybe someone at your office got a new fragrance; maybe I was being silly. I convinced myself for weeks. And then I found the restaurant receipt in your blazer pocketdinner for two. Wine. Dessert. You and I never went anywhere like that.

David wishes he could say somethingmake an excuse, even lie like he always did. But the words are stuck somewhere between his stomach and his throat.

Do you know what I did? Sarah searches his eyes. I had a cry in the bathroom. Then I washed my face, made us dinner, greeted you with a smile. Didnt breathe a word to our daughtershe was fifteen then, GCSEs coming up, first boyfriend. Why should she need to know her father

She trails off. Her hand brushes over the table, wiping away invisible dust.

I told myself Id get through it. It would pass. Men are all the samemidlife crisis, hormones, silly mistakes. As long as it doesnt jeopardise the family, whats the harm?

Sarah David manages.

No, she cuts him off. Let me finish.

He falls silent.

There was a second. A third. I lost count. Your phones never lockedyou think I dont look? I read the messages. Those foolish texts: Miss you, darling, Youre the best. I even saw the picturesthose ones where youre smiling with them, arms around each other. For the first time, Sarahs voice wavers. But she gathers herself, breathing in deeply.

All the while, I kept asking myself: what am I doing? Why am I living with a man who doesnt love me?

I do love you! David blurts out. Sarah, I

No, she says, unwavering. You dont. You love comfort. A tidy house. Hot food. Shirts ironed. A woman who doesnt ask awkward questions.

She stands, crossing to the window and staring out at the darkness.

Do you know when I finally made up my mind? Her voice is quiet, her back still to him. Last month. Our daughter was home for the weekend. We sat in the kitchen having tea, and she said, Mum, you seem different. So quiet, like youre not really yourself. And I realised she was right. I havent been myself in over a decade.

David stares at her rigid back and, for the first time, truly understands: he is losing her. Not might loseis losing. Right now.

I dont want a divorce, he says hoarsely. Sarah, please

But I do, she answers simply. The paperworks submitted. The hearings in a month.

But why? David flares. Why now?

Sarah turns, meeting his eyes. She smiles, but its a sad smile.

Because Ive realised you never really betrayed me, David. You can only betray someone who matters to you. I was just there, alwayslike air.

And the truth stings.

David perches on the edge of the sofa, shoulders caved in, suddenly looking years older. Sarah stands by the hallway door. Between them lies twenty-eight years of marriage, a shared daughter, a flat where every corner echoes their past. And now, a chasm, vast and unbridgeable.

You understand, he says softly, I cant cope without you.

Youll manage, she interrupts. People do.

No! He leaps up, taking a step towards her. Sarah, Ill change! I promise! No more

David, Sarah raises her hand, stopping him. Its not about them. Not really.

Then what?

She falls silent, searching for wordswords shed wanted to say long ago, but never dared. Or perhaps never believed she deserved to voice.

Do you know what it felt like? Every time you came home from one of your stints with Megan or Sophie, and I lay there next to you, I felt like I didnt exist. You didnt even bother to hide itnever locked your phone, chucked shirts in the wash with lipstick on the collar. You figured I was a fool. Blind.

David crumples, as if hes been struck.

I never meant to

Never meant to? She advances, close enough he can feel her trembling with pent-up ragea rage built over years. You just never thought about me at all. What did you tell yourself, kissing someone else? The wife wont know? Or It doesnt matter?

He says nothing.

Because the truth is worse.

He really hadnt thought about her. Sarah was a given, woven into his life so tightly hed never imagined a day without her. She would always be there.

Youd come home from these little adventures, and everything felt normal to you. Wifes in place. Familys intact. Business as usual.

She turns away.

But I wasnt there. In your version of things. At all.

David takes a step forward. He tries to touch her, to pull her back, to make her stay.

Sarah steps away.

Dont, she says, drained. Its too late.

He grabs her hands.

Sarah, Im begging you! One more chance! I can changeI swear!

She looks down at their linked fingers, up at his contorted, panicked face. And suddenly she sees: he really is scared. But not of losing her.

Hes terrified of being alone.

You know, she says quietly, slipping her hands free, I was scared too. Of ending up by myself. Without you. Without a family. But you know what I realised?

She picks up her handbag and her keys from the table.

Ive been alone for a long time. Even with you hereIve been alone.

And she heads for the door.

Three weeks pass.

David sits in the now-empty flatSarah moved in with their daughter straight awayscrolling through his phone. Megan from accounts. Sophie from the gym. A couple more names that once meant something.

He calls Sophie.

She hits decline.

He messages Meganshe reads it, but leaves him on read.

The rest dont even bother.

Funny thingwhen he was a married man, they all clamoured for his time. Now, when hes technically free

No ones interested.

He sits hunched on the sofathis sofa, in this flat that suddenly feels enormous and alienand, for the first time in fifty-two years, he feels truly alone.

He picks up his phone again. Finds Sarah in his contacts. Stares at the screen, fingers trembling.

He types a message. Deletes it. Types again. Deletes it.

At last, he writes simply: Could we meet?

The reply comes an hour later. Why?

David ponders. What is there to say? Im sorry? Too late. Come back? Ridiculous. Ive changed? A lie.

So he writes the truth.

I want to start again. Please, can we try?

The typing dots flicker. Disappear. Reappear.

Then, her answer:

Come on Saturday. To our daughters, two oclock. Well talk.

David exhales at last.

He has no idea whats coming. Whether shell forgive him. Whether shell ever come back. Whether he even deserves a second chance.

He looks at the wedding ring on his finger.

And for the first time in years, hes ready to truly begin again.

If shell let him.

Was Sarah right to turn a blind eye to Davids affairs all those years? Should she have caused a big scene and confronted him head-on after his very first betrayal? What do you think?