A Game of Fire: A Tale of Misunderstanding and Reconciliation
Emma finished preparing supper and collapsed onto the sofa in her cosy flat in Bristol. Her husband was due home from work in an hour, so she decided to relax. Picking up her phone, she lazily scrolled through her social media feed—news, funny videos, recipes—until a post titled *”How to Prank Your Husband”* caught her eye.
*”I wonder how Oliver would react?”* she thought with a mischievous grin.
She quickly sent him a message: *”I know everything! How could you?!”*
*”Now he’ll start pestering me about what I know,”* she chuckled, waiting for his reply.
Within a minute, her phone buzzed. Emma opened the response and gasped: *”Em, I’ll be home soon. I’ll explain. I’m so ashamed. Forgive me.”*
She sat frozen, staring at the screen. Heat rushed to her face; her heart hammered wildly. *Ashamed? Begging forgiveness? What on earth did he mean? Had he been hiding something all this time?* Her thoughts spun like a storm.
Had he been unfaithful? Was there another woman? Or something worse—an illness he’d kept secret? Perhaps he couldn’t father a child and had been afraid to tell her. They’d been married three years, dreaming of starting a family, but had no luck. Oliver had always been so caring, so loving—their home was happy and full. Could all of it have been a lie?
Emma forced herself to breathe. *”Think logically,”* she whispered. He always came straight home after work, so an affair seemed impossible. Unless—had he been seeing someone during the day? A new colleague had joined his firm recently—young, pretty. Had he fallen for her?
Though Emma was young and attractive herself, a pang of insecurity struck. Men strayed all the time, and wives remained none the wiser. Now, it seemed, she was one of them. He must’ve thought she’d uncovered his betrayal and was scrambling for excuses. But Emma refused to tolerate deceit.
*”How could he…?”* she murmured, gripping her phone. *”I’ve done everything for him—made his favourite scones, bangers and mash, even bottled blackcurrant jam! And this is how he repays me?”*
She leapt up, furious. She wouldn’t stay married to a traitor! Divorce—no second thoughts. She’d move back in with her parents, rebuild her life. Storming into the kitchen, she hurled the scones and supper into the bin. *”There’s your dinner!”* she fumed silently.
Then she marched into the bedroom, snatched a pair of scissors, and began slashing Oliver’s shirts and trousers apart. *”See how it feels to betray your wife!”* she seethed, tearing through fabric. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. Thank goodness for that silly post—it had exposed his lies. Who’d have thought her Oliver—
Exhausted, she crumpled onto the pile of shredded clothes and sobbed.
*”Em… I’m so sorry,”* a voice said softly.
She flinched. Oliver stood in the doorway, pale-faced, guilt written in his eyes. She hadn’t even heard him come in.
*”You don’t deserve forgiveness!”* she cried, jumping up. *”How could you do this to me? You liar!”*
*”I thought you’d never find out,”* he admitted quietly. *”I didn’t want to upset you. It won’t happen again, I swear.”*
*”You’re joking!”* Her voice shook with rage. *”How could I ever trust you again? Was it worth it? Sneaking around behind my back?”*
*”It was brilliant, honestly,”* he said, dropping his gaze. *”A dream come true. But I knew you’d disapprove, so I kept it quiet. I didn’t think you’d take it so hard. But… why’d you ruin my clothes?”*
*”A dream, was it?”* Emma’s breath caught. *”And you had the audacity to enjoy yourself? Have you no shame? Did your mates know too?”*
*”They did,”* he nodded. *”I told them not to tell their wives, but I suppose someone slipped.”*
*”Everyone knew except me?!”* She clenched her fists. *”That’s it—I’m done!”*
*”Wait… Who told you about the motorbike?”* he asked suddenly.
*”What motorbike?”* Emma froze. *”Is that your code word for it?”*
*”For what? A motorbike’s a motorbike.”*
*”Oh, very funny!”* she nearly shrieked. *”Now you call your little flings *motorbike rides*? I should’ve known! Had a grand old time on your *motorbike*, didn’t you? What’s her name?”*
*”Whose name?”* Oliver looked baffled. *”I went riding with Jack and Ben. On motorbikes. Hang on—what are you on about? What message?”*
Emma gaped.
*”So… there’s no other woman?”* she whispered.
*”Of course not!”* He stepped closer. *”Do you think I’m that low? I’ve got the most beautiful, clever wife—why would I look elsewhere? I love you!”*
*”Truly, Oliver?”* She searched his face, still disbelieving. *”Then what were you sorry for?”*
*”For sneaking off last year to ride motorbikes with the lads. I told you I was visiting my parents. You always said it was dangerous, that my mates were reckless. So I hid it. I thought you’d found out…”*
Emma stared, her face burning.
*”So… it was really about a motorbike? Not another woman?”*
*”What woman?”* Oliver laughed. *”I’m talking about bikes, and you’re on about some girl! Why’d you text ‘I know everything’?”*
*”It was a prank,”* she admitted, lowering her eyes. *”Saw a post about tricking your husband. Wanted to tease you… I almost ruined everything… *and* your clothes…”*
Fresh tears spilled—tears of shame and relief.
*”Clothes can be replaced, love,”* Oliver said, pulling her close. *”I need a new wardrobe anyway. Now—where’s supper?”*
*”I… threw the scones and mash away,”* she sniffed. *”In a rage.”*
*”Ah, well,”* he smiled. *”Get your coat—we’ll go to the pub. A proper date. And later, I’ll remind you just how much I love you. And *stop* reading nonsense online!”*
Emma hugged him tightly, then dashed off to get ready. What a relief—she’d been wrong! It was just a silly bike! From now on, she’d never stop him from riding. Let him enjoy himself!
Nine months later, their son Thomas was born. A little joke had turned into their greatest blessing.