What? We’ve already been married ten years! A lover? I’m more than satisfied with you!

28April2026 London

I cant shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Ten years of marriage, two kids, a roof over our heads, and yet Ian keeps laughing off my doubts as if theyre just the ramblings of a nervous wife. What are you on about? Weve been married ten years! What lover? Ive got enough of you! he snaps back at me, as if his words could erase the knot tightening in my stomach.

Im not the sort to leave everything to fate, so I decided I had to find the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. I scoured the internet for tips and the first thing that seemed sensible was to look at Ians mobile. He never sets a password, so I expected an open window into his day. All I found was a few empty chats with old schoolmatesnothing that raised an eyebrow.

Still, the unease didnt leave me. Every time he stayed late at the office, a cold shiver crept over me, and my best friend Megan would sigh, Its just your imagination, Harriet. Ian loves you; youre ruining everything with these suspicions. I cant listen to that any longer. My heart tells me otherwise, and I refuse to imagine my husband sharing a bed with anyone else.

One afternoon I followed him to his workplace, hoping to see if he was truly engrossed in work or slipping away for someone else. He spotted me and turned as red as a beet, muttering that I was embarrassing him in front of his colleagues. He apologized profusely, and I accepted, though the sting remained.

Our life seemed normal on the surface. The house was full, the children were growing, and the routine was comforting. Yet I kept hunting for an escape, a thrill that had gone missing. As the saying goes, If you look hard enough, youll find something. So far, my searches had come up empty.

When our younger son started Year1, I enrolled in a driving course. After three months of evening lessons, I passed the test and earned my licence. Ian was proudso proud that he bought a small, sensible hatchback for me, insisting it was just in case I needed a ride. He pretended I was too young to drive, urging me to gain experience first. I laughed it off; the car suited my petite frame perfectly.

One Saturday I woke early, determined to bake an eggplant and chicken pie for the family. I gathered the ingredients, but the pantry was bare. Snow lay thick outside, and though I could have trudged to the shop, I decided to take the car instead. I slipped into the drivers seat, turned the key, and nothing. The engine refused to start. I walked back into the house, careful not to wake the kids, and stared at the silent car.

I could have waited, but the cold was biting and the thought of a quick ride nagged at me. I took the keys, opened the bonnet, and rummaged through the glove box looking for a spare rag. My hand brushed something on the floora sleek black phone I didnt recognise. Ians handset was a bright blue; this one was a deep charcoal, the screen still dark.

My mind spiralled. Could Ian have hidden another phone? Ignoring the warning voice in my head, I pressed the power button. The device lit up, displaying a message from Olivia:

*My love, I miss you terribly! Come to me soon, Im waiting.*

My breath caught. No password protected it, so I scrolled through their chat. The conversation stretched on for what felt like an eternity, full of affectionate nicknames and plans to meet after work. Ian claimed he left the office at five and arrived home at seven. Yet according to Olivia, he was with her almost every evening, driving back home as if nothing had happened.

The pictures sent by Olivia showed a woman in her early forties, elegant, with a silvergrey bobhardly the woman I knew. Anger boiled inside me, hot and sharp.

Just as I was about to slam the car shut, I heard Ians boots on the stairwell. Hed come home early, perhaps hoping to slip another message. I left a note on the kitchen table saying Id gone to the shop, then slipped out with the keys, intent on confronting him.

Ian saw me behind the wheel and shouted, Who gave you permission? We never agreed on this! My blood ran cold, but the surge of rage made me slam the accelerator. The hatchback screeched as it crashed into the garden fence, the metal crumpling with a deafening clang. I stepped out, heart pounding, and hurled at him:

*Go back to your mistress! Ill see how you manage without a house or a car! Dont let my eyes ever find you again!*

I tossed his Audi keys into a heap on the driveway and stormed back inside. Our boys awoke bewildered, unaware of the turmoil. When Ian tried to enter, I slammed the door shut, bolting it with a heavy latch.

Leave! I shouted, my voice echoing through the hallway. Dont come back here!

He trudged out in his slippers and an old housecoat, heading straight for Olivias flat on the other side of town. When he knocked, Olivia opened the door, and a muffled male voice called from inside:

*Sweetheart, are you coming? Ive been waiting for you!*

It turned out Olivia, too, had another loverher own secret. The irony was staggering. I felt a strange, hollow relief as the truth unfolded.

Defeated, Ian walked back to his mothers house two streets away. His mother, Margaret, opened the door, instantly understanding his plight. She welcomed him, fed him, and listened to his story with a weary smile. Dont worry, love, she said. Who would have thought your Harriet would turn out like this? Youre only thirtyfive; love will find you again, I promise.

Now Ian lives with his mother, planning a fresh start. He seems oddly content, yet the reality of alimony looms over his headValentinas claim will hit him hard once the paperwork is filed. Im left here, diary in hand, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of a marriage that once felt unbreakable.

Perhaps the next chapter will bring a little peace, or perhaps it will just be another storm to weather. Only time will tell.

Harriet.