A Surprise Dinner: How a Single Visit Revealed the Truth
On an ordinary winter’s day, Emily decided to prepare a little surprise for her husband. She took a free-range chicken—the very one her mother had given her just the other week—roasted it until golden, made creamy mashed potatoes with butter and herbs, then neatly packed the meal into a container. She dressed carefully, wearing a deep burgundy dress that had hung in her wardrobe without occasion for ages. Her hair was styled elegantly, and coral lipstick brightened her lips. She wanted to look beautiful for her husband. Desirable. To astonish him. To bring him joy.
The drive to Edward’s office took just over half an hour. Stepping out of the car, Emily inhaled the crisp air—her chest tight with nerves. She entered the lobby of the corporate building, where a disinterested receptionist barely glanced up. Politely, Emily explained she was Edward’s wife and had come to see him.
“Did you book an appointment?” the woman asked, eyes fixed on her screen.
“No, I just… I’m his wife,” Emily floundered.
“Can’t let you in without one,” came the indifferent reply.
The argument dragged on. Only after ten minutes of pleading was she grudgingly given a visitor’s pass. Emily took the lift to his floor and walked towards his office. As she neared the door, about to knock, she froze. Laughter spilled out—a woman’s voice, then Edward’s.
She recognised his laugh instantly—raspy, slightly nasal. But the words that followed turned her blood to ice.
“Honestly, your Emily is a right circus act!” a female voice sneered.
“Keep it down—someone might hear,” Edward muttered. But Emily heard every word.
“Who cares?” the woman pressed. “How much longer are we keeping this a secret?”
“I told you not to bring this up…”
“Fine, fine,” came a petulant sigh. “Why waste time talking about your little wife?”
Emily clutched her handbag strap until her knuckles whitened. Her chest tightened as if her whole body had locked. But worse was yet to come.
“Fancy a weekend away? Just you and me. A proper break.”
“Can’t. Sophie’s got her school play Saturday.”
“So what? Send her with your mum. She ought to be good for something.”
Emily couldn’t take it. She flung the door open.
Edward froze at his desk, while beside him lounged his colleague—Louise, the woman Emily had met at past office parties. Louise didn’t even blush, just gave her a smug once-over and smirked.
“Well, look who’s here. No warning. Didn’t expect that.”
Edward jumped up.
“Em, this isn’t what it looks like—just let me explain!”
“What *should* it look like, Edward?” Her voice trembled. She set the food container on the desk. “Here. Brought you dinner. Home-cooked. Your favourite.”
“Em, please—”
“No, Edward. Enough. I heard everything.” She turned and left before he could say another word.
Walking outside, everything felt muffled, as if wrapped in cotton wool. Tears blurred her vision. The air was thick, each step heavy with hurt. Everything she’d built, everything she’d lived for—all of it was a lie.
That evening, she went to her best friend’s. Told her everything. Cried. For hours. When she got home, Edward was on his knees.
“Forgive me. I’m exhausted. It’s just a fling. You’re blowing this out of proportion. Don’t do anything rash.”
Emily only smiled dryly.
“You know what, Edward? I don’t need a weak man.”
The next day, she filed for divorce.
Months passed. Emily took out a mortgage and moved. She couldn’t stand living where every corner reminded her of betrayal. She threw herself into work, opened her own boutique, grew her business. And then—she met someone. A man who, like her, was raising a young daughter. They started fresh.
Emily blossomed. She wasn’t afraid of being alone anymore. She realised change wasn’t frightening—sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes, it was the only way to finally start living.