I don’t even want to get married because of this—I don’t trust women! And don’t you dare wreck our family over foolishness, you hear me?

“I dont even want to get married because of this. I dont trust women! And dont you dare wreck your family over some nonsense, you hear me?”

I had just finished my scrambled eggs and was sipping the last of my coffee when my wife, her face reddening, asked me in an awkward, uneasy voice:

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What makes you think”

“Dont lie to me, Simon. I just want to hear the truth from you.”

Now it was my turn to flushsomething that rarely happens to me, only when I cant bring myself to tell the truth but dont want to lie either.

“You dont have to say anything. I already know.”

Stung, I stormed outside. I spent the whole workday tense and furious with myselfthe situation had thrown me off completely, forcing me to make a decision I wasnt ready for. I couldnt lie to my wifeshe meant too much to me.

Yes, there was another woman. Young, beautiful, stunningyoud probably laughI lost my head, testosterone taking over, pouring out of every orifice.

But youd be wrong. She wasnt younger or prettier than my wife. She was an old schoolmate. My first, unrequited love. A loose end, so to speak. I ran into her years later by chance.

“Simon, is that you? I barely recognized you. Look at you, all posh now.”

I froze. Standing there with a mocking smile was Christine.

For a moment, I just stood there like an idiot, feeling utterly ridiculous. She looked me up and downmy tormentor from school, the one whod saddled me with every embarrassing nickname that stuck. “Simon the Simple” was one of them.

“Come on, lets grab a coffee, catch up. A mini-reunion. Theres another old friend joining usshes just finishing shopping.”

Before I could respond, she emerged from the shopSamantha. Blonde, delicate, almost fragile. When she saw me, she smiled.

“Simon Fletcher, is that really you?” she asked in a painfully familiar, melodic voice. “How many years has it been?”

All I could do was smile back, a lump rising in my throat.

Of course, I took them to a café. We had a lovely chat. The next day, overwhelmed by emotions, I met Samantha after work.

She wasnt surprisedshe acted as if shed expected it. We sat in another café, just the two of us this time, and then I ended up at her place and vanished.

The affair lasted six months, and all that time, I lived in two worlds. Onemy family: my children, Oliver and Emily, whom I adored, and my wife, whom I loved and still loved.

Yes, still loved. That love hadnt disappearedit had just dimmed, gone quiet.

The other world was Samanthaa burst of emotion, the thrill of possession, passion. If I could, I wouldve kept diving between those two worlds forever. Which was why, when my wife figured it outtoo soonI wasnt ready.

The only thought I had by the end of the day: I needed a break. A real one, not just for one of them. Time to think and make a final decision.

I was about to call my wife, Charlotte, but she beat me to it.

“Simon, Im taking the kids to stay with my parents for a while. I need time to think,” she said quietly. “Just promise me one thingstay in touch with Oliver and Emily. They love you, and I dont want them upset before they have to be.”

Even more lost, I went home. Id assumed Id be the one making the decisionit hadnt occurred to me that she might make one of her own, and not in my favor. But she had every right.

For days, I thought about Samantha (brighter, fresher, more vivid) and Charlotte (my wife). I only remembered the goodI didnt want to lose either.

I dont know why, but at some point, I felt like calling my old school friend Greg. Wed been close since school, even served in the army together. Once, long ago, wed both been in love with Samantha and both been rejected. Maybe thats why I called.

We arranged to meet. I invited him overit was pouring outside, and neither of us fancied some sterile pub. Greg wasnt married, still living with his parents, and I was temporarily freeif needed, he could crash at mine.

After work, I stopped by the shop, grabbed some frozen dumplings, sausage, and a bottle (what else do men need?), then headed home to wait for him.

“Nice place youve got here! Really cosy. Happy for you, mate. When am I getting my own family nest? Your wife doesnt happen to have any single friends, does she?” Greg grinned, shaking my hand while glancing around.

We headed to the kitchen. Id already set out plates and cutleryjust needed to cook the dumplings.

“Wheres Charlotte?” Greg asked, surprised. “Wanted to pay my respects, but its just you? Why didnt you say? I brought cake and chocolates”

“Dont worry, well eat them. Theyre at her parents just for a bit. Come on, first toast!”

We drank. Then a couple more. Only then did I tell Greg about Samantha, the whirlwind affair, and my predicament. He stayed silent for a long timevery unlike him.

“Why so quiet? You were in love with her too. Or still are?”

“No, no! Definitely not now,” Greg laughed, but it sounded forced. “Listen, Ill be straightthis isnt worth it. I know what Im talking about.”

“What do you know?” I snapped. Back then, she barely glanced at either of us, and latersame story. If this was just gossip, I wasnt interested.

“I lived with her for six months, Simon,” Greg said wearily. “She was already divorced then. Know who her ex was? Nigel Prescottremember him?”

“Prescott? Didnt know. She told me she was divorced, but not who the husband was. Yeah, I remember her paying him attention back then. I even wanted to punch him at one point.”

“Want me to tell you about me and Prescott? Or skip it?”

“No, mate, you startedfinish it,” I said, sobering up fast. Something told me I wouldnt like what I was about to hear.

“Unlike you, I didnt just stare at herI wrote her notes, carried her bag when she let me, even cornered her in the stairwell a couple times. No luck.

She liked Prescott. I was no competition. But Prescott liked girlsnot like us. So Samantha fought for him like we fought for her.

They marriedperfect couple, or so it seemed. Local golden pair! Lived fine at first, till she started nagging him about money.

Didnt want to live with his mum, needed their own flat, furniture, all that. So he went to work in Europedriving old imports. Made decent money, but on his last trip, he crashed. Badly.

All his savings went into putting him back together. Credit where its dueshe stood by him, got him back on his feet. Then suddenly she had a flat. Left him.

We bumped into each other or did we? I was leaving work, and there she was with Christineher mate.

Remember her? No idea what they were doing there, not exactly a shopping district

We had coffee, thenwell, you know. Felt like I was flying! Was planning to propose! Then she says shes going away for two weekswork trip to Manchester. Like an idiot, I believed her.

She comes back with a Mediterranean tan. I ask, she says:

Place was dull, so I hit the tanning salon and spa in my free time.

Jealousy got me. Started following her, especially when she couldnt meet for some reason.

Guess what I saw? A Range Rover pulls up, she gets outnot alone. With some old bloke, sixty-ish. Lost it. Jumped out, swung at himbarely got pulled apart.

Almost went to jailturns out the old guy was some big shot! Only got off because he didnt want his affair with his sugar baby (who just happened to own a flat) going public

Thats my story. Prescott can give you the details.”

Greg didnt seem keen to chat further. He got up to leave. I didnt stop him, but I walked him out.

“Thats why I dont want to get married. Dont trust women! And dont you wreck your family over this, you hear me?” he said as he left.

We shook hands, and he was gone.

A heavy sadness settled over me. I collapsed onto the bed, thinking about lifes fragility, happiness, love. About a