Dear Diary,

Nothing can be resolved in an instant; everything must be done gradually… It’s essential to prepare to avoid losing half of what you’ve built up over time.

As I made my way home, I felt the weight of a small box nestled in my bag. Inside lay a beautiful watch for Matt—elegant and expensive, chosen with utmost care.

For months, I had saved a little from each paycheck to craft this special gift.

Tomorrow is Matt’s birthday. He’ll turn forty-two—not a milestone, but I wanted to make it a day to remember. We’ve been together for fifteen years now.

I still recall the first time we met at a gathering for a mutual friend, how we struck up a conversation and talked until the early hours, leaning against the entrance of the apartment building.

The lift in our block has always been temperamental. Old, dating back to the days of the council estates, its walls covered in the graffiti of yesteryears.

I pressed the call button. The cab creaked as it slowly descended, making noises as if it were exhausted from the task.

At last, the doors opened, the light flickering inside. I stepped in and pressed the worn button marked “8.”

The doors slid shut, and the lift began its slow ascent.

I imagined how tomorrow would unfold, spending the day with Matt while friends and family gathered in the evening.

Suddenly, the lift jolted and came to an abrupt halt.

I pressed the button for the eighth floor again, then tried others—no luck.

“This is the last thing I need!” I muttered to myself, sighing. “What awful luck.”

I hit the intercom button. Static crackled, followed by a young woman’s voice:

“Lift Operator here.”

“I’m stuck between the first and second floors,” I explained.

“I’ve notified maintenance. Help is on the way,” she replied.

“When exactly?” I asked, but silence followed. The connection dropped.

I pulled out my phone. The signal was weak—only one bar.

I tried calling Matt, but he didn’t answer. He was probably caught up in a meeting or riding the tube home.

Twenty minutes slipped by. I crouched against the lift wall.

My phone was nearly dead, so I decided to turn it off.

Just then, I heard voices outside the door.

A woman’s, bright and slightly hoarse.

It was Jenna—the lively girl from the second floor. Always elegant, with her heels clicking confidently on the pavement. We exchanged pleasantries but nothing more. Once, I helped her with her shopping bags, and she offered me a cup of tea, but that was the extent of our acquaintance.

“You promised!” she exclaimed, her tone urgent. “How long can you keep putting this off? I can’t take it anymore!”

A male voice responded, too quiet for me to catch what he said. But I sensed the defensive, slightly irritated tone.

“Your promises mean nothing!” Jenna continued. “I can’t keep listening to this! You’re a grown man, yet you behave like a child!”

I listened with growing curiosity. A family disagreement?

Typically, I’d feel awkward eavesdropping, but boredom and despair pulled me into the conversation.

“What do you want from me, Jenna?”

The male voice grew louder, and I froze.

The tone, the inflections… it couldn’t be.

Matt should be at work. Or at home. Not in our neighbour’s flat.

“I want you to finally tell her the truth,” Jenna’s voice shook with indignation. “You need to get a divorce. How much longer will this drag on? How long can you stall?”

“Nothing can be resolved immediately, you know,” I knew it was Matt now. His voice rang with familiarity. “I need to prepare. If I divorce, I’ll lose half of everything: the flat, the car, the cottage…”

“And what about our son? Have you given him any thought?”

The world spun around me, and I felt like I might collapse. Our son? What was she talking about?

“He’ll be one soon,” Jenna continued, her voice laced with reproach. “He only sees you on weekends, and even then, not always. How can you call yourself a father if you’re never around?”

I wanted to scream, beat on the lift doors. I wanted to shout that I heard every word. But my body felt frozen, unwilling to obey.

I froze like I’d fallen into a chilling abyss. Thoughts and memories tumbled through my mind, colliding and scattering.

“Just wait a little longer,” Matt’s voice sounded drained. “I’ve thought everything through. It will all be resolved soon.”

“What exactly have you thought through?” Jenna scoffed, skeptical. “You always say the same thing. You always have excuses.”

“I’ve started moving money to another account,” he replied in a businesslike tone. “I’ve put the car in my brother’s name. Soon, I’ll tell her I’m going on a business trip, and I’ll file for divorce. It’ll be easier for everyone.”

“Why not now?” There was clear disbelief in her voice.

I sank slowly to the floor of the lift, gripping the watch box tightly as if it might prevent my fall into the void.

Thoughts tangled and collided, ripping apart one after the other. How did this happen? When? We had been so happy! We were even planning to build a new shed at the cottage this summer.

Matt always seemed so attentive, so caring. Was it all just a mask?

Then I recalled my mother’s words before our wedding. She took my hands and said solemnly, “Matt is a noticeable man. Girls will always flock to him. Be careful not to let him ruin your marriage.”

I had laughed then, finding her warning amusing and unfounded. How wrong I was…

The voices outside faded. It seemed the entire building had fallen silent, leaving me alone.

My mind raced with questions: How long had this been going on? Did the other neighbours know? And most importantly—what should I do now?

If Matt planned to betray me like this, I would make the first move. I decided to reveal his truth on his own birthday. Let him discover the price of his lies.

Moments later, a knock came at the lift door.

“Hey, is anyone in there?” a male voice called.

“Yes, I’m here!” I replied, struggling to stand. My legs had gone numb from crouching.

“I’m opening up now, don’t worry!”

There was a scraping of tools, and finally, after a couple of minutes, the lift doors swung open.

Standing there was an older maintenance worker in a blue jumpsuit with the company logo. Grey hair, a weathered face, and rough hands.

“Ah, freedom!” he smiled. “How long were you stuck?”

“I’m not sure. My phone died, and I don’t have a watch,” I replied, stepping out of the lift.

I straightened up, feeling the tension lift from my body.

“These old lifts are absolutely useless,” the worker sighed. “But no one’s in a hurry to replace them. No budget, they say.”

I nodded in thanks and walked slowly up the stairs to the eighth floor.

I opened the door to our flat. Matt was already home, sitting in the living room with his laptop on his lap. His glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose, his hair tousled—he always looked like that when he was concentrating.

“Oh, you’re back!” he smiled, his familiar warm grin lighting up his face. “I called you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I got stuck in the lift,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “My phone was nearly dead.”

“Not that lift again,” he shook his head. “We should really write a collective complaint. How much longer can we endure this?”

I looked at him, bewildered. How did he learn to lie so expertly? Every gesture, every tone now felt false, rehearsed.

“Are you having dinner?” I asked as I made my way to the kitchen. “I’ll make some pasta.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Need a hand?”

“No, I’ll manage,” I brushed him off and began pulling ingredients from the fridge.

The evening went as usual. We dined, discussed the news, watched a series. Matt talked about work, and I listened attentively, nodding and laughing at his jokes.

But inside, my plan was brewing.

The next morning began with my deliberately cheerful voice:

“Happy birthday, darling!”

Matt opened his eyes, stretching with a smile.

“Thank you, my love.”

“I have a surprise for you,” I grinned enigmatically. “But first, you need to close your eyes.”

“What are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” I retrieved his dark blue tie from the wardrobe. “Turn around; I’ll blindfold you.”

Matt obediently turned. I carefully tied the tie over his eyes, ensuring he couldn’t see.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked as I led him out of the flat.

There was curiosity laced with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

“I hope it’s not a skydiving jump! You know I’m afraid of heights,” he said.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I replied, guiding him toward the lift. “Just trust me.”

We descended to the second floor. I led Matt out and positioned him in front of Jenna’s flat.

I pressed the doorbell.

Every second of waiting felt like an eternity.

Pictures formed in my mind: the door swings open, Jenna’s face going wide with shock. I envisioned her bewilderment.

Finally, the door creaked open. There stood the neighbour in a dressing gown, a towel wrapped around her damp hair. Her face showed only slight confusion.

“Take him,” I said, giving Matt a gentle nudge forward.

“What?” Jenna looked at us in evident bewilderment.

I led my husband into her apartment. He still seemed oblivious but followed my lead.

“Go on, take off the blindfold,” I said confidently.

Matt pulled the tie off his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings.

“Where are we? What’s happening?” He gazed from me to Jenna, clearly disoriented. “Whose flat is this?”

I crossed my arms, prepared for the confrontation.

“Ask your Jenna,” I replied coldly.

Matt stared at the neighbour with genuine confusion, and for a moment, I hesitated.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked, glancing back and forth between us. “Vicky, please explain.”

Jenna looked equally puzzled.

“Have you both lost your minds?” she asked.

“Stop pretending,” I hissed. “I heard everything yesterday. Your conversation by the lift.”

Jenna frowned.

“What conversation? I was at work all day yesterday. I didn’t come home until nine. I work at the shop until eight.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but just then, a man emerged from the kitchen.

A small boy perched in his arms, munching happily on a biscuit.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, freezing me in place.

His voice… that tone, those inflections… almost identical to Matt’s. Even his way of talking sounded familiar.

I felt the heat rise within me. The man bore little resemblance to Matt, yet their voices… they were practically the same.

I laughed, grabbed Matt’s hand, and pulled him toward the exit.

“I’m so sorry,” I addressed Jenna. “It’s a misunderstanding. We’ll be leaving now.”

Once home, I recounted the entire story to my husband. Matt listened with interest, as if he were watching the plot unfold in a film.

He shook his head and embraced me.

“Vicky, how could you think I would do something like that? After fifteen years together? You know how much I love you.”

“You’ll believe it when you find yourself in a similar situation,” I smiled. “Sorry for the show.”

“It’s alright,” Matt grinned back. “Now we have a fun story for family evenings.”

Finally, I retrieved the box from my bag and presented it to him.

Matt was thrilled with the gift, putting on the watch immediately and admiring it throughout the day.