Nobody – Part II

On her way to work one morning, her phone rang. It was a rare occurrence, especially so early in the day. A call at that hour could only mean trouble.

‘Hello?’ she answered, trying to steady her voice.

‘Hello, is this Mrs. Daniels? I apologise for calling so early…’ a nervous male voice stammered on the other end.

She cut in unintentionally, ‘Yes… who is this?’

‘Mrs. Daniels, I, uh… Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just get straight to the point. Your husband is having an affair – with my wife.’ He paused, then quickly added, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself! My name is Jack. Jack Brown. I thought maybe we could meet and discuss this in person. It’s a lot to take in, and I know this is difficult for both of us…’

‘Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Brown,’ she said, cutting him off again. Without another word, she ended the call.

She slipped the phone back into her purse and took a deep breath. For a moment, she stood still, letting it all sink in. Then, she carried on with her day as if nothing had changed. She walked into the office with the same practised smile, shared a routine lunch with her colleagues – Wednesday’s usual grilled meat with potatoes at the cafeteria – and at 5 p.m., she left the office, still wearing that same fixed smile. But instead of heading straight for the train home, she made a detour. So unlike her. She walked into a store and bought just one item: a box of red hair dye. With the purchase in hand, she boarded the next train, found a seat, and closed her eyes. Exhaustion washed over her; the day felt never-ending.

Back home, Joan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflexion. A feeling of unease crept over her. Was it true? Of course it was. She had known for a long time. The late-night phone calls, the unfamiliar scents, the flimsy excuses – they’d all been there. But it had been easier, more comfortable, to push them aside, to bury her suspicions beneath a mask of smiles and routine.

Now, the woman staring back at her in the mirror felt like someone else. Her once-familiar face was framed by bold red hair, a look that radiated strength and confidence – so unlike the person she had been for so long. Could this be the beginning of something different? Maybe this was her chance to stop merely existing and start living, instead of merely drifting along in a crowd of strangers.

The bathroom door swung open suddenly. Her husband walked in, oblivious to any change.

‘Joan, should I help with dinner? The kids are hungry,’ he said casually.

‘No, I’ll be right down,’ she replied evenly.

The door clicked shut behind him. She wasn’t just there – yet.