My Husband Went to Visit His ‘Sick’ Parents, So I Decided to Surprise Him by Showing Up Unannounced…

Every morning Emily awoke to the sound of rain tapping against the window and watched grey clouds gather above the rooftops outside. The weather seemed to suit her moodanxious, uncertain, filled with vague suspicions.
For three weeks now, her husband Simon had been packing his gym bag and announcing,
My parents arent well, Im off to see them for a couple of days.
The first time, Emily understood. Simon’s mother, Margaret, had recently had surgery on her gallbladder; his father, Geoffrey, complained of high blood pressure. At sixty-five, these things could happen.
Of course, go, Emily said. Send them my regards, let them know Im thinking of them.
Simon left on Friday evening and returned Monday morningexhausted, quiet, as if he’d just finished a gruelling shift. His responses about his parents’ health were brief.
They’re better. But still frail.
Whats wrong with your mum? Emily would ask.
Everything aches. She’s getting older, Simon would wave it off.
The story repeated the following week.
Are they still unwell? Emily wondered.
Mum had a fall, hurt herself. Dads worried. I need to go, Simon said, packing clean shirts.
Should I come and help?
No need. Its crowded enough as it is. You stay home.
Emily didnt argueshed always kept a polite distance with Simons parents. Never pushed, never meddled. Margaret was reserved, not particularly warm. Conversations were civil but lacked intimacy.
Simon left home again the next weekend.
What is it this time? Emily asked as Simon folded jeans and a jumper into his bag.
Dads really poorly now. His blood pressures all over the place; Mum cant cope alone.
Did you call a doctor?
We did. But you know what GPs are like these daysprescribed some tablets and went off.
Simon spoke convincingly, but something in his tone made Emily uneasy. It all sounded too rehearsed, lacking the genuine concern of someone with sick parents.
Simon, perhaps they should be in hospital, if its that bad?
They dont want to. Theyre afraid. Homes more comfortable.
He zipped his bag and kissed Emilys cheek.
Dont worry. Ill try to be quick.
After Simon left, Emily was left alone with her growing discomfort. She tried to recall the last time shed chatted with Margaret on the phoneit had been about a month ago, when Margaret rang to wish one of Emilys friends a happy birthday.
Her mother-in-law had sounded lively then, asking about Emily’s work, sharing stories about gardening. No mention of ill health at all. Quite the oppositeMargaret had been proud of her tomatoes and making plans for winter.
Thats odd, Emily muttered, staring into the autumn drizzle. If Margaret was so poorly, surely shed ring? She always did before.
On Monday, Simon came home gloomier than ever.
How are your parents? Emily asked.
Dads better. Mums still weak.
What did the doctor say?
Which doctor? Simon looked confused.
The GPyou said you called him.
Oh. Right. He said to keep an eye out. Take her in if it gets worse.
Simon changed clothes quickly and sat at the computer, clearly avoiding further conversation.
That evening, while Simon showered, Emily picked up his phone. Shed never checked his calls before, but something told her she had to look.
No calls to or from his parents. None, at all, in the last two weeks. No contact with Margaret or Geoffrey.
How can that be? Emily whispered. If Simon is staying with them, why call?
Normally, if Simon travelled somewhere, his parents would ring Emily at least once to check in, pass along a message, ask after their son. This time: silence.
Friday came. Simon packed again.
Back to your parents? Emily asked.
Yeah. Mums caught a fever. Think shes got a cold.
Simon, perhaps I should come with you and help out.
Why burden yourself? Simon replied sharply. Youve got enough on your plate.
It wouldnt be hard. Theyre your parentsmine too, really.
Em, no, it’s crowded enough. You dont want to catch something.
He spoke with urgency, avoiding her gaze, hastily throwing things into his bag.
What train are you catching? Emily quietly asked.
Just the local one. Seven oclock.
Shall I walk you to the station?
No. Ill be fine.
Simon kissed her goodbye, bolted out, and Emily was left in a flat full of unanswered questions and strange coincidences.
Saturday morning was spent turning over her thoughts. Emily chided herself, Am I really just a paranoid wife? Maybe Simons parents are genuinely ill and Im worrying unnecessarily?
By midday, she made up her mind. If Geoffrey and Margaret were unwell, theyd surely appreciate her help. Emily baked a homemade apple pie, bought some fruit and juice, and packed a basket of treats to take to visit Simons parents.
Ill surprise them, she thought. And Simon too.
The kitchen was filled with delicious chaos. Emily kneaded pastry with her mums famous recipe. While the pie baked, she went to the shop for oranges and bananas.
By three, she was readythe fragrant pie cooling, fruit packed, and Emily dressed in her favourite frock, a touch of lipstick, ready for the journey.
She smiled as she took the train, imagining Simons surprise. He would open the door and see her, hands full with gifts, blinking in confusion before bursting into a smile.
Em? What are you doing here?
I came to check on you all. See how youre coping.
The journey to Simons parents home, nestled in a small town near Cambridge, took an hour and a half. Emily knew the place wellSimon grew up in that two-storey house with the garden.
Emily walked up to the familiar gate and pressed the doorbell. After a moment, Margaret answered.
Emily? Margaret said, startled. What brings you here?
She looked perfectly wellrosy cheeks, bright eyes, no hint of illness. She wore a comfy tracksuit and had her hair neatly pulled back.
Hello, Margaret, Emily stammered. I came to visit. Simon said you werent well.
Not well? Margaret laughed. What on earth? Weve never felt better! Where did you hear that?
Emily felt her face flush. Her heart raced; the bags suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
But Simon said hes been looking after you. Said youre ill.
Looking after us? Margaret shook her head. Emily, we havent seen Simon for over a weekmaybe longer!
Geoffreys voice echoed from inside.
Margaret, whos at the door?
Its Emily! Margaret called back.
Geoffrey appeared in the halla solid man, seventy, hair silver, still strong, wearing work trousers and a checked shirt, obviously fresh from his shed.
Oh, our daughter-in-law! Geoffrey beamed. What brings you here? You dont visit often!
Geoffrey, wheres Simon? Emily asked.
How should I know? Geoffrey shrugged. Hes probably at work. Or home with you.
He told me he was staying with you, looking after you both.
Geoffrey exchanged a glance with Margaret.
Emily, neither of us is ill. And Simon hasnt been here in ages. Last time was when, Margaret?
St. Peters Day, Margaret recalled. Back in July, for Geoffreys birthday.
Thats right. Havent heard from him since, Geoffrey confirmed.
Inside, Emily felt something collapse. Every explanation, every trip to sick parents had been a lie. A clear, deliberate lie.
Emily, whats wrong, dear? Margaret asked, concerned. You look pale. Come in, have some tea.
No, thank youI should go, Emily murmured.
How can you leave? Youve just arrived! And youve brought pie, I see! Margaret protested.
Another time. Emily handed over the bags. These are for you. Enjoy.
Wheres Simon, then? Geoffrey wondered. Why isnt he with you?
I dont know, Emily replied honestly.
Margaret and Geoffrey escorted Emily to the gate, exchanging confused glances. Emily walked to the bus stop, numb.
She stared out the window as the bus wound through the damp September countryside, trying to piece together her thoughts. Each of Simon’s visits now felt like mockery. Each explanationa cynical manipulation.
So, while I worried about his parents, he Emily couldnt finish the thought.
On the train back, she considered calling Simon, but then changed her mind. What would she ask? Where are you? With whom? Why are you lying?
It would be better to wait at home. Look him in the eye when he was forced to explain another lie.
Emily arrived home by eight. The flat was quiet, empty. She waited, unmoving, on the sofa.
Simon returned Monday morning, as usual. Keys rattled, the door opened. He entered, rumpled, tired, gym bag slung over his shoulder.
Morning, he muttered, heading for the bedroom. How was your weekend?
Fine, Emily answered calmly. And yours?
Tough. My parents are really unwell.
Really? What exactly is wrong?
Mums got a fever, Dads blood pressure all night. Were all exhausted.
Simon spoke without meeting her eyes, dropped dirty laundry in the basket, rummaged in his bag for medicines.
Simon, Emily said quietly. Look at me.
He raised his head; a flicker of anxiety crossed his face.
Where were you these past days? Emily asked, her voice steady.
Where else? At my parents. I told you.
Your parents are fine. They havent seen you for a week.
Simon froze, shirt in hand.
What are you talking about?
I went to see them yesterday. Wanted to help. Margaret laughed when I mentioned illness.
His face went pale.
You went there? Why?
Because I believed you. Thought they needed help.
Emily, you dont understand
What dont I understand? Emily cut him off. That youve been lying to me for a month? Used your parents as cover?
Its not a lie
Then what is it? Emily stepped forward. Where have you been spending your weekends? With whom?
Simon turned to the window.
I cant explain right now.
Cant or wont?
Emily, trust meit’s not what you think.
What do you think Im thinking? Emily asked flatly.
That that theres someone else.
And is there?
Simon was silent. The silence stretched for a minute, then another. Finally, he sighed.
There is, he admitted softly.
Emily nodded. Oddly, she felt no angeronly emptiness and clarity.
I see.
Emily, its not serious! It just happened
A month ago?
No, before that. I didnt know how to tell you.
So you lied about your sick parents?
I needed time. Wanted to sort myself out.
Did you?
Simon was quiet.
Im asking: did you work out what you want?
I dont know, he answered honestly.
But I do, Emily said. I want someone who doesnt lie. Who wont hide behind sick parents for an affair.
Its not an affair
Call it what you likethe results the same. You lied to me for a month.
Emily strode to the bedroom, pulled a small suitcase from the wardrobe.
What are you doing? Simon panicked.
Packing. Emily folded essentials into the case. Ill stay with a friend. Until we sort things out.
Sort what out?
You with your feelings. Mewith the divorce papers.
Emily, dont rush this! Lets sit and talk!
What is there to talk about? How you tricked me for a month? How I fretted over your very healthy parents?
I didnt mean to hurt you
So you hurt me more.
Emily took documents from the safe, put her mobile and charger in her bag.
If you want to explain, ring me. But I doubt you could ever justify a month of lies.
What about our home? Our family?
Family is trust, Emily answered. Home can be settled by lawyers.
She headed for the door.
Wait, Simon pleaded. Perhaps we could try again? Ill end it, we can start fresh
Start with what? Another lie about ill parents?
I wont lie. I promise.
Simon, Emily paused at the threshold, you promised to be a faithful husband. See how that turned out.
Emily left, closing the door behind her. The hallway was silent, distant music drifting from upstairs.
Outside, drizzle began, just as it had a month ago, when everything started. Emily pulled up her collar and set off for the Underground.
Her phone rang as she descended. Simons name glowed on the screen. Emily declined the call, tucked away her phone.
Her mind was made up. She couldnt live with someone who for a month used supposedly sick parents as a cover for cheating. Trust was gone; so was the marriage.
Ahead lay solicitors, dividing up the flat, a new life. But at least that new life would be honestno more lies about sick parents, no more secret weekends with another woman.
The tube carried Emily away from her past towards an uncertain, but truthful, future.