Lena adjusted her fringe in the salon mirror, frowning. “Emma, be honestdoes this haircut suit me?”
Emma smiled, but there was an odd note in her voice. “You look gorgeous, darling! Very youthful.”
Lena paid the stylist and studied her reflectiona forty-year-old woman with a fresh bob that did indeed make her look younger. Yet it brought her no joy.
“Fancy a coffee?” Emma asked as they stepped outside. “Theres a new café just round the corner.”
“Quick one,” Lena agreed. “Ive got dinner to make.”
They settled by the window. Emma ordered a cappuccino and cake; Lena chose plain tea.
“So,” Emma stirred her coffee, “what does James think of the new look?”
Lena shrugged. “He barely notices. I wore a new dress yesterdaydidnt even glance.”
“Really?” Emma leaned in. “I thought things were good between you.”
“We coexist. Hes at work dawn till dusk, Im at home. Weekends are football or fishing with his mates while Im scrubbing floors or visiting Mum.”
“When was the last time you went out together? Theatre, cinema, even a walk?”
Lena tried to recall but drew a blank. “Honestly? Cant remember. Maybe Sarahs birthday three months ago. And we sat apart all evening.”
Emma sighed. “Oh, love. He used to chase you like a lovesick puppy. Remember uni? Flowers every day, handwritten poems.”
“That was twenty years ago. People change.”
“Not all of them,” Emma countered. “My Toms still a romantic. Surprised me with symphony tickets last weeksaid he missed culture.”
Lena studied her friendbright-eyed, glowing. Same age, same schoolyard history.
“Youre lucky,” Lena murmured.
“Lucks got nothing to do with it,” Emma said, slicing her cake. “Youve got to put in the effort. No offence, but youve let yourself go.”
Lena flushed. Yes, shed gained a stone. Yes, tracksuits had replaced tailored skirts. But between work and chores
“Im not a runway model, Em.”
“Its not about that. A man needs to see a *woman*, not a housekeeper. Maybe James drifted because you stopped being his wife and became I dont know.”
The unspoken word*nag*hung between them.
“Cheer up,” Emma patted her hand. “Hit the gym, refresh your wardrobe. Hell notice.”
Lena nodded, stomach churning. So *she* was to blame for their crumbling marriage?
That evening, she dressed in her best frock and applied new lipstick.
James arrived at eight, eyeing the set table and her made-up face. “Guests coming?”
“No. Just felt like dressing up.”
“Right.” He dug into his meal. “New haircut?”
“Today. Do you like it?”
He glanced up. “Fine. Shorter.”
No compliment. No spark.
“James, maybe we could go out this weekend? Its been ages.”
“Cant. Helping Tom build his shed.”
“Tom? Emmas husband?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
Later, as James zoned out before the telly, Lena realised: this was their marriage now. Polite. Empty.
Over the next month, Lena hit the gym religiously. Shed half a stone. Toned up.
“Stunning!” Emma gushed at their next coffee date. “James must be thrilled.”
“He said I look well.”
Emmas eyes gleamed. “Maybe he needs a wake-up call. A whiff of competition.”
“Emma, Im *married*.”
“Not suggesting an affair! Just flirt a little. Let him fear losing you.”
Lena dismissed the ideauntil elderly Mrs. Wilkins from next door mentioned spotting James “with a glamorous woman” near the new café.
The next afternoon, Lena watched from a window seat as James ushered a statuesque brunette inside. He ordered wine, laughed at her jokes. The womanpolished, mid-thirtiesglowed under his attention.
Lena fled, nauseated.
That night, she confessed to Emma, who gasped: “The *bastard*! You should divorce him!”
Lena hesitated. “What if its just a fling?”
“Would you wait around to find out?”
The following evening, they tailed James. When the brunette appeared, Emma stiffened.
“Thats her?” Lena whispered.
Emmas face paled. “Lets go. Now.”
Back at Emmas flat, the truth spilled out: “Her names Claire. My colleague. *I* introduced them at a work do. I thoughtI thought itd be harmless. But then they kept meeting. I didnt tell you because”
“You *knew*.” Lena stood, trembling. “All those pep talkshow to win him backwhile youd handed him to someone else.”
“I never meant”
“Save it.” Lena walked out.
The next morning, she filed for divorce.
Not for revenge.
But because, for the first time in years, she chose herselfwithout lies, without illusions.
