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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

He nods, runs a hand over his face. ‘The kids,’ he says. ‘I just want to do what’s best for them. I don’t want to upset them.’

Ha! Now I really want to laugh, until I break down and cry. But I won’t. I will do something at which I am well practised. I will detach from the emotion – from this, the most painful moment of my life. I will focus my energies on the fight, because I will fight for my marriage. Even though the battle might already be lost, I won’t give in easily. I will make him want me.

‘Stay,’ I say impassively. ‘For now.’

I feel my husband’s surprised gaze following me as I walk calmly past him to the hall. ‘It’s different, Jason,’ I call back, as I mount the stairs to cry my tears in private. ‘As birthday surprises go, it’s definitely different.’

Twenty-Three

JASON

Jason watched the display on the clock clicking over the hours before he finally fell asleep. He slept heavily, dark and dream-filled, until he woke with a start. Sure he’d heard a crash in the kitchen below, he scrambled out of bed and headed downstairs. He was aware that the reception he would get from Karla would be cool. She’d barely spoken to him in the week he’d been home. She wasn’t likely to want to speak to him, given the circumstances, but he was concerned – for her, for the effect all this would have on their children.

Going into the kitchen, he found things were far from the usual organised chaos of a school morning. Karla was still in her dressing gown, picking up pieces of what appeared to be a broken plate from the floor, and Holly looked far from happy, slumped disgruntledly at the breakfast table.

‘I don’t even like honey,’ she moaned, curling a lip as she leaned in to pluck the spoon from the jar and watch the golden gloop drip from it.

‘Ugh, looks like snot.’ Josh, who was also still in his nightwear, looked up from his iPad to observe.

‘Holly…’ Sighing, Karla straightened up and pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘Just eat your toast, sweetheart, will you?’

Holly flopped heavily back in her chair. ‘I don’t like toast,’ she scowled. ‘It’s burnt. Why can’t we have porridge? We always have porridge in the—’

‘Because there’s no milk!’ Karla snapped, and then, remorse flooding her face, she turned quickly away. ‘Eat your breakfast, please,’ she said, her voice strained, as she pushed the broken pieces of crockery into the bin.