I Don’t Even Want to Get Married Because of This—I Don’t Trust Women! And You Better Not Be Foolish Enough to Ruin Our Family, 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 something stupid, you hear me?”

Id just finished my scrambled eggs and was sipping the last of my coffee when my wife, flushed and awkward, asked the question Id been dreading:

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What makes you think”

“Dont lie to me, Simon. Just tell me the truth.”

Now it was my turn to go redsomething that rarely happened, reserved for moments like this, when I couldnt tell the truth but refused to lie.

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

I bolted outside like Id been scalded. Spent the whole workday fuming, completely derailed, forced 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 laughmy brain had checked out, leaving only testosterone leaking from every orifice.

Exceptyoud be surprised. Not younger, not prettier than my wife. An old schoolmate. My first, unrequited love. A closed chapter, or so I thought. Then I bumped into her by chance.

“Simon, is that you? Bloody hell, look at youproper London gent!”

I froze. Standing there with a smirk was Christina.

For a moment, I just stood there like an idiot, feeling about two inches tall. She gave me the once-over, the same tormentor whod made my school years hell with cruel nicknames (Simon the Simple, among others).

“Come on, lets grab a coffee, catch up. Mini reunion! Theres someone else youll want to seejust popped into the shops.”

Before I could respond, out she cameEmily. Blonde, delicate, ethereal. She saw me and smiled.

“Simon Whitmore, is that really you?” Her voice was like a melody Id never forgotten. “How many years has it been?”

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

Of course, I took them to a café. We had a lovely chat. The next day, powerless against my emotions, I waited for Emily after work.

She wasnt surprised. Took it like it was inevitable. We sat in the same café, just the two of us, then I ended up at her place and vanished.

Six months of sneaking around, living in two worlds. Onemy family: Jack and little Lily, who I adored, and my wife, whom I loved (still loved, actuallylove doesnt just disappear, it only fades a bit).

The other worldEmily. A rush of emotion, the thrill of possession, passion. If I could, Id have kept diving between them forever. Which was why, when my wife caught me off guard, I was completely unprepared.

The only thought I had by days end: I needed a break. A real onenot just from one of them. Time to think, to choose.

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

“Simon, Im taking the kids to my parents for a while. I need space,” she said, voice steady. “Just promise me youll stay in touch with Jack and Lily. They love you, and I dont want them upset before its necessary.”

Even more lost, I walked home. When I imagined making a decision, I hadnt considered that my wife might make one tooand it might not favour me. Fair enough.

For days, I thought about Emily (too fresh, too bright) and Elizabeth (my wife). Only the good memories. I didnt want to lose either.

No idea why, but I suddenly wanted to call an old school friend, George. Wed been thick as thievesschool, army, you name it. Once, long ago, wed both been in love with Emily and both struck out.

We met up. I invited him overpouring rain outside, not pub weather. George was single, still living with his parents. Me? Temporarily free. If he needed to crash, he could.

After work, I grabbed some frozen pies, sausage, and a bottle (what else do blokes need?), then headed home to wait.

“Nice place! Cosy! Really happy for you, mate. Whens it my turn? Your wife got any single friends?” George grinned, shaking my hand while eyeing the place.

We headed to the kitchen. Id already prepped plates, forksjust needed to boil the pies.

“Wheres the missus?” George frowned. “Wanted to compliment her. Youre alone? Why didnt you say? I brought cake and chocolates!”

“Dont worry, well eat it. Shes at her parents for now. Cheers!”

We drank. Then drank some more. Only then did I tell George about Emily, the whirlwind affair, my current mess. He went quietuncharacteristically so.

“What, cat got your tongue? You fancied her too. Still do?”

“Nah, not now,” George laughed, strained. “Just trust me, mate. You dont want this.”

“And whys that?” I snapped. “You think I care about gossip?”

“I lived with her for six months, Simon.” George sighed. “She was divorced by then. Know who her ex was? Nathan Carlisle. Remember him?”

“Carlisle? Didnt know. She said she was divorced, never mentioned him. Yeah, she had a thing for him back then. I nearly thumped him once.”

“Want me to spell it out?”

“Go on.” I sobered up fast, bracing for the worst.

“Unlike you, I didnt just stare at her. Wrote notes, carried her bag when she let me, even cornered her in the stairwell a few timesno luck. She wanted Nathan. And Nathan wanted everyonenot like us schmucks. So our Emily fought for him. Won, too. Picture-perfect couple.”

“Lived well enough, till she started complainingnot enough money. Didnt want to live with his mum, wanted their own place. So he went off to Europe, driving second-hand cars for cash. Made decent money, till one tripmassive crash. Took months to put him back together.”

“Emily spent every penny fixing him. Credit where its dueshe got him walking again. Then suddenly she had a flat. Left him.”

“Ran into her by chanceor not. I was leaving work, she was with Christina. Remember her? No idea what they were doing therenot exactly a shopping hotspot.”

“We had coffee. Then well, you know. I was over the moon! Ready to propose! Then she says shes off for two weekswork trip to Birmingham. Like an idiot, I believed her.”

“She came back with a tan. Place was dull, she says. Spent my free time at the tanning salon.”

“I got suspicious. Started following her. Thenbingo! Range Rover pulls up, out she hops. Not alonesome silver-haired bloke, sixty if he was a day. Lost it. Charged at himnearly got arrested. Turns out he was some bigwig. Only got off because he didnt want his little affair going publicflat bought and all.”

“Thats me. Nathan could tell you more.”

George stood, heading for the door. I didnt stop him.

“Thats why Im not getting married. Dont trust women. And dont you wreck your family over this, you hear?”

We shook hands, and he left.

I collapsed onto the bed, drowning in self-pity. My beautiful dreamEmilyhad been like a little silver boat bobbing on an emerald sea under a summer sun.

Now? The sea was a puddle. The boat? Cardboard, sinking fast.

Next morning, under a cold shower, I knew: it was over.

Miraculously, my father-in-law called at lunch.

“Simon, got a flat tyrestranded a mile from your office. Any chance you could help? Backs killing me.”

I went. He barely spoke. When we were done, I asked:

“How are they?”

“Fine. Kids are greattheyll be fine,” he said, then hesitated. “Liz not herself. Quiet.”

“Can you lend me £2,000?” I blurted.

“Why?”

“Want to take the family to Spain. Got some savings, need a top-up.”

He brightened.

“Brilliant idea! Needed, too. This break isnt doing you any favours. Familys everythingdont throw away what youve got. Ill sort the money!”

That evening, I shopped, cleaned, and next morningSaturdaycollected my family. The kids hugged me, thrilled, as I announced loudly:

“Were off to Spain on Monday! Home nowpack! Quick, or well never be ready!”