What Do You Mean? We’ve Been Married Ten Years! What Mistress? You’re More Than Enough for Me!

**Diary Entry 15th November**

Bloody hell. Ten years married, and this is what it comes to? I never saw it coming.

Emily couldnt shake the feeling that her husband was cheating. She *knew* it, deep in her bones. The uncertainty gnawed at her until she finally confronted him.

“Are you seeing someone?” she demanded.

He laughedactually bloody laughed. “What? Ten years married, love. Why would I need anyone else? Youre more than enough for me.”

Jonathan sounded sincere. No hesitation, no flicker in his smile. But something still didnt sit right.

Emily wasnt one to leave things to fate. If there was proof, shed find it. She rifled through his phone firstnothing but harmless banter with a couple of old schoolmates. No password, either. “Nothing to hide,” he always said. Saintly, wasnt he?

Her mate Sarah told her to stop worrying. “Youre imagining things! Jon adores you. Youre sabotaging your own marriage!”

Emily didnt listen. Her gut said otherwise.

One evening, she even showed up at his office, unannounced, to catch him in the act. He was furioushumiliated her in front of his colleagues. She apologised for days, and eventually, he softened.

By all accounts, life was good. A nice house in Surrey, two kids, a stable income. But Emily couldnt let it go.

Then, the turning point.

After their youngest started Year 1, Emily decided to learn to drive. Passed her test first go, and Jon, proud as anything, bought her a little Fiestanothing flash, but perfect for her.

What she didnt know? Hed only bought it so she wouldnt ask to drive his Audi. “You need more experience,” hed say.

One frosty Sunday, Emily woke early to make a chicken and mushroom piethe family favourite. No flour. She trudged out to her car, but the engine wouldnt start.

Bugger it. She nicked Jons keys instead.

While the Audi warmed up, she rummaged for a cloth in the gloveboxand knocked something loose. A phone. Not Jons.

No passcode. She tapped the screen.

A message from a *Jessica*.

*”Miss you, darling! Come over soonIll be waiting.”*

Emily scrolled. Pages and pages of texts. Turns out, Jon *finished work at five,* but never got home before seven. Every day, he stopped at Jessicas first.

The photos showed a woman in her forties. *What does she have that I dont?*

Emilys hands shook. Just as she stepped out, she saw Jon striding toward her.

“Who said you could take my car?” he snapped.

She didnt answer. Just buckled up, reversedand *crunched* straight into the fence.

Jon gaped. Emily tossed his keys into the neighbours hedge.

“Go to *her* then! See how much she wants you without your house and your bloody Audi!”

She stormed inside, bolted the door. The kids were confused; Jon hammered on the wood, shouting.

“Piss off to Jessicas!” she yelled.

So he did.

In his slippers and dressing gown, Jon trudged to Jessicas flatonly to hear *another mans voice* inside.

“Sweetheart, hurry up!”

Turns out, Jessica only saw Jon on weekdays. Weekends were for someone else.

She gave him an apologetic shrug and shut the door in his face.

Jon ended up at his mums. Margaret took one look and sighed. “Oh, love. Who knew Emily would turn out like this? Youre only thirty-fiveplenty of time to find someone better!”

So there he stayed. Free at lastuntil the alimony papers arrived.

**Lesson learned:** If you go digging for trouble, youll find it. But sometimes, the one youre hunting isnt the only snake in the grass.