Returning Home Early, Zoe Overhears Her Husband’s Conversation with Her Sister – And Is Stunned

Returning home unexpectedly early, Susan heard her husband talking with her sisterand she was stunned

Susan left the medical centre earlier than plannedthe appointments were cancelled because the doctor had fallen ill. Well, that was a stroke of luck! She hadn’t had such a treat in agesa whole evening to herself, time to make dinner properly instead of throwing something together in a rush, as usual.

She turned the key in the lock as quietly as she couldshe didn’t want to wake David if he was napping after work. But apparently, he wasn’t asleep.

Voices drifted in from the kitchen.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lucy. Hiding every weekend…” David’s voice sounded exhausted.

“And what do you want to do? Just come out with it all?” That was her sister, Lucy. When had she managed to sneak over?

Susan stopped by the slightly open kitchen door. Something inside her lurched.

“If Sue finds out, everything falls apart,” David continued miserably. “Thirty years of marriage down the drain.”

“You’ve got to make a choice,” Lucy said more firmly, “are you going to keep going over there every Saturday?”

Over there?!

“How can I stop? She’s got no one else. I’m all she’s got.”

“And what about your wife? Does she not count?”

Susan gripped the doorframe so tightly her hands hurt. Her heart hammeredshe could barely breathe.

Sono fishing trip, after all.

So he wasn’t driving off to lakes with John, his old mate.

Soher husband had a secret “her,” and he saw her every weekend.

“If I confess now, she’ll hate me for lying,” David sighed. “But if I don’t…this guilt is eating me alive.”

“Guilt,” Lucy snorted. “Where has your conscience been all these years?”

“It was easier before. But now…she’s really struggling.”

“Look, maybe it’s time you just told Susan the truth,” Lucy pressed.

“Are you mad?” David sounded frightened. “She’ll kill me! Or worsekick me out. Where would I go at sixty?”

Susan stumbled back from the door.

Thirty years she’d been making him meatballs for his “fishing trips.” Ironing shirts, scrubbing his boots. Worrying every time he came home late. All this timehe was driving off to someone else.

And Lucy knew!

Her own sister knewand stayed silent.

My God.

How blind she’d been.

“Anyway,” Lucy said, “I’ve got to dash. Just thinkhow much longer can you keep it up? Sooner or later, she’ll find out.”

“I know. I know myself,” David replied heavily.

Susan heard footsteps approaching the halland darted into the bathroom.

She needed time.

Time to figure out what to do with this truth.

Time to decide how to go on.

And maybedid she even want to go on?

In the bathroom, Susan stared into the mirror and barely recognised herself. Was she really Susan Matthews, the model wife?

More like the model fool.

She composed herself and stepped out to David, wearing her usual expression. He was at the kitchen table, flipping through the paper. So familiar, so domestic.

“Oh! Sue, you’re home early,” he greeted her a bit too cheerfully.

“Clinic cancelled,” she replied.

“Lucy dropped by, says hello.”

Liar. Lucy passed on far more than just a hello.

“Dinnerare you hungry?” Susan asked evenly.

“Of course! What’s cooking?”

“Meatballs. As always.”

The next week felt like hell. Susan watched David’s every move, every word. The lies were everywhere. How he hid his phone. How he tensed up every Friday. How he packed up his “fishing gear.”

By Saturday morning, she cracked.

“David, why don’t I come fishing with you today?” she offered innocently.

He went pale.

“What for? You always say it’s dull out there.”

“I’d like to give it a go. Might enjoy it.”

“No, no,” he flapped his hands, “it’s cold, there’s loads of midgesyou’d be miserable. Best to stay home.”

And off he went. Guilty face and all.

Susan remained alone, swirling in tormenting thoughts.

On Monday, she sought out Lucy.

“Lucy, we need a chat.”

“What about?” Lucy bristled.

“Oh, you know. A proper catch-up, just us.”

They met at a café, neutral ground. Lucy was jittery, twisting her ring on her finger.

“How’s things?” Susan began gently.

“Fine. And you two?”

“We’re alright. David’s taken to fishing with real passion.”

Lucy coughed into her coffee.

“Really? How often?”

“Every Saturday. Practically obsessed.”

“Men, eh,” Lucy mumbled, “always with their hobbies.”

“But do you know where he actually fishes?”

“Me? How would I know?”

But her eyes darted. Lying.

“I just think maybe I should go along one Saturday. See what all the fuss is.”

“Susan, why bother?” Lucy suddenly snapped. “Let the man have his space. Everyone needs a bit of privacy.”

Privacy! Was she justifying an affair?

“Lucy,” Susan leaned closer, “do you know something?”

“I know nothing,” Lucy shot back. “And don’t want to, either. And you’d do well to leave it alone.”

She got up and left.

Leaving Susan bitterly certainher sister was covering for him.

At home, Susan launched her own investigation. She rifled David’s pockets, checked his wallet, searched the car.

And she found it.

In the glove compartmenta sheaf of receipts. Regular payments. £350 every month.

Private care home “Hope Lodge.” In Brighton.

A care home?

Not a cottage, not a fishing cluba care home.

Susan sat with the receipt, realising her world had truly collapsed. Care homes were for the ill, for those needing support.

SoDavid had someone sick. Someone he supported. Someone he visited every Saturday.

A wife? A lover?

She slept not a wink, thoughts circling darker and darker.

In the morning, she made her decision.

She’d go herselfto Brighton, and see for her own eyes what secrets her husband was hiding.

On Friday, she took the day off work. Said she had a doctor’s appointment.

The drive to Brighton took three hours. Three hours to work herself up. Three hours imagining the worst.

The care home was small and cosy. A sign: “For Adults with Special Needs.”

Disabled residents.

Her heart skipped. Did David have a disabled relative she didn’t know about?

“Who are you visiting?” the nurse at the desk asked.

Susan hesitated. “Could I askwho is here from David Matthews?”

“You family?”

“I’m his wife.”

The nurse checked the register.

“Emma Matthews, room twelve. Go on through.”

Matthews!

She has his surname!

Susan stood before room twelve, unable to push the door. Behind it was the truththe truth she’d feared and sought.

Emma Matthews.

She nervously reached for the handle.

“May I come in?”

The room was bright, filled with the scent of medicines and flowers. By the window, a young woman sat in a wheelchair. Perhaps thirty-five, slim, dark-haired.

And so very like David.

“Hello, are you here to see me?” she asked, voice gentle but weak.

“Yes,” Susan swallowed. “Im Susan. Are you Emma?”

“I am. Do we know each other?”

Did they? How to answer that?

“Im David Matthewss wife.”

Emma’s face turned white, eyes wide.

“Oh God…” she whispered. “You know everything?”

“I do now,” Susan stepped closer. “Will you tell me?”

“I cant, he begged me not to,” Emma cried softly. “Dad said you didnt have children, and youd be so upset if you found out about me.”

Dad.

Susan nearly fainted, dropping into the chair by the bed.

“He’s your father?”

“Yes.” Emmas tears spilled freely. “I’m sorry. Mum died of cancer two years ago. Dad supported us all this timehe sent money, visited. When Mum died, he got me into Hope Lodge. I have cerebral palsy, cant manage alone.”

Susan sat in silence, absorbing it all.

Her husband had a daughter. A sick daughter hed cared for, and she’d never known for thirty years.

“Hes wonderful,” Emma sniffled. “Comes every Saturday. Brings groceries, medicine, chats about you. Says youre amazing.”

“He talks about me?”

“Yes, he loves you desperately. Always says ‘my Sue, my Sue.’ You’re the best wife in the world.”

Susan let out a bitter laugh.

“The best wife he lied to for thirty years.”

“He didnt really lie,” Emma protested. “He was scared! So scared youd leave if you found out. Im notwell, I’m a burden.”

“Youre not a burden.”

“To some people, I am. My mum used to say, Wish you’d never been born. But Dad never did. He said, You’re my daughter, Ill always care for you.”

A knock. The nurse poked her head in.

“Oh, Emma, visitors! Good. Jill was just saying how lovely it is youve met your aunt Sue.”

Aunt Sue.

“Yes!” the nurse beamed. “David always raves about you. Says youre kind and understanding.”

Kind and understanding! Meanwhile, Susan had been playing amateur detective, convinced her husband was cheating.

The nurse left, and Susan sat closer.

“Tell me about your mum,” she encouraged.

“Mum was beautiful. Dad dated her before he met you. When they found out I was disabled, Mum said he shouldnt have to stay with us, not with a sick child. So she let him goto find someone healthier. You.”

“And he left?”

“He wanted to stay, marry Mum. But she wouldnt let him. Said if he loved someone else, he should go to her. You.”

“And after?”

“After, he married you. But he never abandoned us. He helped, sent money. As I got older, he started visiting. Mum allowed iton the grounds you should never find out. She worried the truth would break your marriage.”

Susan sat, thinking. Shed spent years envying women with children. Cried over failed IVF rounds. All along, David had a daughter. He always had.

“Why didnt he tell me?” she whispered.

“He was frightened. Said you had such dreams of children, and if you learned he already had oneand a disabled oneyoud hate him.”

“Hate him for what?”

“For lying. For spending money on me that could’ve been for your children. For giving up his time.”

Emma was quiet, then added softly:

“Every time he comes, he says, How do I tell Sue? How can she understand? And I say, Dad, maybe shell understand?”

Footsteps approached in the hall.

David.

“Oh no,” Emma whispered, “he doesnt know youre here!”

The steps stopped outside the door.

“Hello, darling!” David’s voice floated through.

Susan turned.

David was there with a bouquet and bag of groceries. When he saw his wife, the bag fell to the floor.

“Sue?” he choked. “How did you?”

“I decided to meet my daughter,” Susan replied calmly.

David paled, bracing himself against the wall.

“How did you find out?”

“Not exactly the worlds best sleuth, are you.”

He entered, closing the door. Sat in a chair, defeated.

“Well,” he murmured. “Its done. You know.”

“I do.”

“Do you hate me?”

Susan looked from David to Emma.

“Im not sure yet. Im trying to understand.”

“Whats there to understand? Lied for thirty years. Pretended to fish. Spent family money this way.”

“Dad, please!” Emma cut in. “Aunt Sue, hes not a bad man. He was just scared.”

Susan stood up and gazed out the window.

Outside was a typical English courtyardtrees, benches, paths. Ordinary life.

But insideher life had exploded and was piecing itself back together.

“I need time to think,” she finally said.

For three days, Susan didnt speak to David. At all. He drifted through the house like a ghost, trying to talkshe stayed silent. Cooked, cleaned, acted as if he wasnt there.

And all the while, she thought.

Thought about living in the dark for thirty years. About her stepdaughter. About a husband who feared the truth more than lies.

By Wednesday evening, she gave in.

“Sit down,” she told David. “We need to talk.”

He sat, hands folded, awaiting a verdict.

“I visited Emma again,” Susan said. “We had a proper chat.”

“And?”

“And I realised something: youre a fool, David.”

He flinched.

“A fool for thinking Id reject a sick child. A fool for carrying this alone all those years instead of sharing it.”

“Susan”

“Don’t. Im not finished.” Susan paced the kitchen. “You thought I was such a cow that Id kick you out over this. That I had no heart…”

“No! I was terrified to lose you!”

“And you almost did.”

David hung his head.

“Im sorry. I know I dont deserve forgiveness. But please…forgive me.”

“Stand up.”

He obeyed.

“Tomorrow, were going to see Emma. Together. And I want to speak to the doctorssee if we can move her here.”

David blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me. If shes my daughtershe is now, anywayshe ought to live with family.”

“But shes disabled, shell need care.”

“Well hire help. Convert a room. Well manage.” Susan took his hands. “Do you know what I wanted most these last thirty years?”

“A child?”

“A real family. Now I finally have one. A silly husband and an extraordinary daughterbut a family.”

David broke down sobbing. Susan couldnt remember ever seeing him cry.

“Are you sure? Youll accept her?”

“I already have. I bought her new pyjamas and shampoo yesterday. Well take them tomorrow.”

He hugged her, tight.

“I dont deserve you.”

“No, probably not,” Susan conceded. “But youre stuck with me now. Just one thingno more lies. Ever.”

“Promise.”

“And one more. I want Emma to call me Mum. If Im Mum, I want the real deal.”

A month later, Emma moved in. She took the old box rooma bit small, but bright. Susan picked out the wallpaper, curtains, and bedspread herself.

“Mum,” Emma said that first evening, “are you sure? Wont I be a burden?”

“If you say burden once more,” Susan threatened playfully, “Ill give you what for. Youre my daughter. End of.”

And late that night, after Emma had gone to bed, Susan and David sat in the kitchen, sipping tea.

“You know,” Susan said, “lifes only just begun.”

“At sixty?” David smiled with wonder.

“Exactly. A real family now. Not just the two of us quietly growing old. Were parents. Weve got our girl to support.”

David nodded, tears shining.

“Thank you.”

“Dont thank me. Just never be afraid to tell me the truth.”

“I wont.”

And from Emmas room, the sound of laughter drifted throughshe was watching a comedy on her tablet.

And to Susan, it was the best sound in the world.