The boy just wasnt done playing.
*”Alright, love, gotta dashthe lads are waiting! No time to lose! See you later!”*
With those words, more than just evening plans collapsed. Something inside Emily sank. Yesterday, shed been slaving over the stove, and today, shed rushed home after a gruelling day, giddyonly for this? A rushed meal and a guilty peck on the cheek?
*”What do you mean, dash? James, todays my day!”* she reminded him.
James, already lacing up his trainers, straightened and blinked at her, genuinely baffled.
*”Weve already had our sit-down,”* he said, nodding at their plates. *”Ate, had wine. Gave you that fancy hair curler. Its Tuesday, love. Well do it proper on Saturday when the mates come round.”*
*”I wanted it to be just us! Tonight!”* Emily protested, the shadow of loneliness creeping in.
James sighed, spreading his hands. *”Come on, love, whats the fuss? Im not off gallivantingits just the lads. Weve got a match lined up.”*
His words stung. *They* were waiting. Hadnt *she* been waiting? Just one evening a year, shed hoped, without his *”mates.”* But apparently, even that was too much to ask.
*”Sod off, James,”* Emily muttered, turning away. *”But know thisit mattered to me. A lot. We might as well be flatmates.”*
He shrugged, carefree, as if shed complained about the telly choice. But this wasnt about her birthday. It was a scream from the soul. Lately, with James, shed never felt more alone.
—
It had started long ago. Truth be told, Emily had reaped what shed sown. Shed chosen James because he was fun, easy. But what worked for dating rarely worked for marriage.
When theyd met, hed dragged her to his crowdnot raucous pubs, but board game nights. No drunken brawls, no sleazy advances. Just polite, clever banter.
Emily had grown up in a house where her father drank himself into oblivion, and her mother moaned about life from dawn till dusk. With James, shed glimpsed another worldsafe, calm. Shed missed out on childhood, and beside him, shed tried to reclaim it.
When he proposed, Emily was over the moon. He seemed the sort to build a life withcheerful, sharp, financially secure. His mums inheritance meant he could work part-time, remote, no commute.
The first weeks were a fairy tale. A proper honeymoontrips across the UK, beaches, late-night talks. Emily felt like a princess.
But returning home, the carriage turned back into a pumpkin. That very night, James bolted, leaving her to unpack and cook.
*”The ladsll report me missing,”* hed said. *”Just popping round to show em the photos.”*
Back then, shed barely minded. *Almost.* Strong friendships were good, shed thought. But it kept happening. And every time, Emily was left alone with her illusion of a family.
—
Memories flickeredthe last few months.
Emily dragged herself home daily, exhausted. Nine-hour shifts, traffic, the endless race to keep up. No energy for parties. Shed open the door to find James in his gaming chair, headphones on, roaring with laughter. A dirty plate and empty fizzy drink cans beside him.
*”James, take the bins out, please,”* shed murmur, clearing the table.
*”In a minute, love! Just finishing this round!”*
*”A minute”* stretched to hours. Eventually, shed haul the bags downstairs herselfbecause *she* needed to cook, *she* couldnt stand the smell.
It was always like this.
James crawled into bed at dawn, just as Emily rose. Sometimes, shed wake to his voice, arguing passionately over headset.
They lived side by side, not together. Like siblings in separate worlds that barely touched.
Shed tried explaining. He didnt get it.
*”Whats missing? Weve got everything. Im home most days! Cant be glued to you, can I?”*
All she wanted was his attention. Shared evenings.
Eventually, Emily confided in her friends. Sarah, the eternal optimist, urged patience:
*”Count your blessingshe brings in money and doesnt stray. My Daves on a construction job up north, and Im chuffed to see him once a month. Youve got it made.”*
But Hannah was blunt:
*”Ive been there. Youre lonely *with* him. Just a cook and cleaner. That boys not done playingwhats he want with a family? Have a kid, and youll *really* never see him. Babies arent as fun as mates.”*
Those words stuck. Emily wavered. Maybe Sarah was rightJames was decent, solvent. Maybe she should endure?
But now, sitting alone on her birthday, staring at uneaten salads and a bottle of wine, she knew: she didnt want to be Sarah. Didnt want to scrape by on bare minimum. Didnt want to dread her own husbands presence.
The roasted meat cooled. The salads sat untouched. Shed shopped, cooked, left work earlyhoping for one tiny celebration.
And James, as always, just zipped his jacket and left. Left her with wine, tears, and the grim certainty that this was her futureforever waiting, forever second-best. Holidays, kids, old ageall would pass him by.
Emily couldnt stay lonely. Not today. She called a cab to her mums. Margaret had lived alone for years. She hugged Emily tight, took one look at her damp eyes, and understood.
*”So what?”* she said, hearing Emily out. *”Well celebrate. Order sushi, whatever you fancy.”*
That evening, Emily remembered what family felt like. Flawed, but real. They talkedhaltingly, sometimes silentlybut Margaret listened. James hadnt in ages.
So when he rang late that night, Emily ignored him. She answered only in the morning.
*”Where were you all night?”*
*”At Mums. Celebrated with people who care.”*
*”Em… Whats got into you? Come home. Ive not done anything wrong!”*
*”Exactly. Youve done *nothing*. Youre just… absent.”*
*”Oh, come off it! We had dinner. Was that so bad?”*
*”Brilliant. Five minutes, then off you went.”*
*”Bloody hell, Em, Im not cheating! Dont make a mountain out of a molehill.”*
*”Know what? Id almost prefer cheating. At least then Id know what Im fighting. But this? Youve already got a familyyour mates. Im just… temporary.”*
Silence. James had no reply. Or didnt want one.
*”James,”* Emily said, *”I didnt want it to come to this, but… Choose. Them or me.”*
*”Straight to ultimatums, eh?”* he grumbled. *”Em, you know I love you. But you dont ditch your mates…”*
Emily exhaled, shaking her head. Suddenly, everything was clear.
*”Then live with them.”*
She hung up and went for breakfast. Margaret had made her favourite pancakes. Emily cried into themthen felt lighter, as if a boulder had rolled off her shoulders.
She returned, but only for her things. James barely glanced up from his screen. Just muted his mic.
He stayed in his worldgames, mates, eternal boyhood. Emily walked into hersone where she refused to be an afterthought.
James had chosen never to grow up. And so, their paths diverged.
