**Diary Entry 12th November**
*”How can you not see?”* Mark slammed his hand on the steering wheel. *”This will ruin our marriage!”*
*”No,”* sighed Emily. *”This wont be what ruins it.”*
She regretted coming. Hed asked for help closing up the holiday cottage for winter, and shed agreed. But four hours trapped together in the car? She shouldve known better.
It was late autumn, the air sharp with cold. Rain had poured all week, but today, the clouds had parted. Side by side, theyd winterised the cottagepacked away the dry goods (mice would come otherwise), drained the taps, boarded the windows. It felt like they were draining the life from the place, locking it into hibernation until spring.
As they left, the sun broke through, casting gold over the rows of cottages. Theirs looked hunched and lonely. Emilys throat tightened.
She climbed into the car and buckled up.
In that moment, she *was* the cottagewalls intact, roof steady, but hollow. No light in the windows, just shutters nailed tight. And just as slumped under the weight of it all.
Marriage had become suffocating. Shed wanted out for years but felt stuck, like wading through peat.
“*Bad*” didnt cover it. Not an adverbjust the state of her since day two of marriage.
*”Come here,”* Mark had called that evening, voice clipped. *”You left the shower curtain open. Waters dripping on the floorfix it.”*
She did. Why couldnt he have done it himself? Two seconds work.
*”Now here,”* hed demanded from the kitchen. *”Why did you open a new milk carton?”*
*”I didnt see the other one.”*
*”What were you looking with?”*
Her eyes, obviously.
*”Is your eyesight alright?”* he asked, mock-concerned.
*”Fine.”*
*”Is the carton *that* small, then?”*
Shed cried. What crime had she committed to warrant this? Over milk.
He always did this. If she noticed his socks strewn about or the balcony door left open, shed just fix it. No fanfare. No interrogation.
But hed summon her, pick her apart, make her correct things, then demand, *”Do you understand?”*
And the question that haunted her: *”Are you even normal?”*
By year two, she wasnt sure anymore.
Later, she learned the word *gaslighting*. That slow erosion of sanity, until you question if *youre* the problem.
At work, she was sharp, efficientflawless under pressure. At home? A nervous wreck, flinching at every *”Come here.”*
*What have I done now?*
Her lifeline: small victories. On the worst days, shed cling to any taskfolding laundry, baking a cake, tidying a shelf. *I did this. Today wasnt wasted.*
*”Why are you staring at the windowsill?”* Mark would snap.
Because shed cleared it, and it was proof she wasnt useless.
Then came the job offer.
Another city. Four hours away.
She accepted instantly, giddy with relief. A divorce by circumstancenot her choice, but perfect.
Mark was livid. *”This will ruin us!”*
*”No,”* she said softly. *”It wont.”*
Once, at a nephews birthday, shed watched a science show. The host asked five-year-olds, *”Whats the boiling point of liquid nitrogen?”*
Blank stares.
*”Minus 196°C! And who invented ice cream? Hint: Chi”*
*”Chicken?”* her nephew guessed.
*”China!”* the host laughed.
Emily had thought: *This isnt for them.*
Marriage felt the samea thing for *proper* adults. Stifling. Like a bus with sealed windows, someone always complaining its too draughty. A tug-of-war between fresh air and suffocation.
Shed boarded thinking it was a double-deckerspacious, scenic, with someone to catch her scarf if it flew away.
Instead, shed spent years believing *she* was the failure. Not mature enough. Not *aware* enough.
But the truth?
*Distance wont kill us. You will. Because you dont want loveyou want control. To you, a second milk carton is a crime. To me? Its just milk. You dont see me. You smother me. Our love died long agowere just waiting for the funeral. Divorce isnt the end. Its the headstone.*
*Im boarded up in this marriage like that cottage. But I wont hibernate forever. In that new city, Ill breathe. Never been, but its already brighterbecause you wont be there.*
*There, my mistakes will just be mistakes. Not sins. Ill be normalbecause the only madness is in your eyes.*
She didnt say it aloud.
The car stopped at a red light.
Emily unclipped her seatbelt and stepped out onto the pavement. The most dangerous place on earth wasnt the trafficit was staying beside him.
**Lesson:** A prison only holds you if you keep turning the key. Walk away before you forget you ever had the choice.
