After seventeen years of marriage to Emily, James decided to leave her for a younger womana student, no less. He never anticipated the farewell she had planned for him.
Emily stood by the window, watching the rain trace lazy paths down the glass. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or just a blink? She remembered every anniversary, every shared glance, every quiet morning. Now, it was all crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.
“We need to talk,” James said, his voice oddly detached.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. That lookdetermination tinged with guiltwas familiar. It was the look of a man about to drop a bombshell.
“I’m leaving, Emily. For Sophie.”
Silence. Only the ticking of the antique clockhis mothers wedding giftfilled the room.
“The student from your department?” Her voice was eerily calm.
“Yes. My feelings have changed. I need something new. Youre a clever womanyou understand.”
Emily smiled. *Clever woman.* How often hed used that phrase when he wanted his way.
“Are you sure?” she asked, nothing more.
“Completely,” James said. “Ive already packed.”
Emily nodded. Then she walked to the cabinet and retrieved the bottle of aged whisky theyd been saving.
“Well, this is a special occasion in its own way,” she said, uncorking it. “Lets have a farewell dinner. Invite your friends, your family. Seventeen years deserves a proper send-off.”
James blinked, thrown. “Youwant to celebrate our divorce?”
“Why not?” Emilys smile sent a chill down his spine. “Lets toast to the life we had. After all, I *am* a clever woman, remember?”
She pulled out her phone, typing swiftly.
“Tomorrow at seven. Ill cook your favourites. Think of it as my parting gift.”
James stood there, baffled. Hed expected tears, rage, accusationsanything but this cool composure.
“Oh,” Emily added without glancing up, “tell Sophie shes invited too. Id like to meet the girl who managed what I couldntkeeping you interested.”
The next morning, Emily was up before dawn.
She phoned banks, met with a solicitor, gathered paperwork. Every move was calculated, preciselike a chess player cornering a king.
By evening, their home was filled with the aroma of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Emily set the table with their best chinaa wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
“Everything must be perfect,” she murmured, adjusting the silverware.
Guests arrived promptly at seven. Jamess parents came first. His mother, Margaret, embraced her daughter-in-law awkwardly.
“Em, love, is there no way to fix this?”
“No, Mum. Sometimes the bravest thing is to walk away.”
Friends filtered in. James and Sophie were the last to arrive.
“Come in, sit,” Emily said, gesturing to the head of the table. “Tonight, you two are the guests of honour.”
Once everyone was settled, Emily raised her glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we mark the end of one chapter and the start of another.”
She turned to James.
“James, thank you for seventeen yearsfor the laughter, the tears, the memories. You taught me a great deal. For instance, that love can take many forms.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Sophie fidgeted with her napkin.
“You also taught me to pay attention to details,” Emily continued, producing a thick envelope. “Especially financial ones.”
She spread documents across the table.
“The loan for your carjointly under our names. The unpaid taxes for your business. And theseparticularly interestingare receipts from restaurants and jewellers over the past year. Impressing Sophie, were we?”
James paled. Sophies head jerked up.
“But the real gem,” Emily said, pulling out one last paper, “is our prenup. Remember signing it without reading? Theres a clause about asset division in cases of infidelity.”
The silence was deafening. The kitchen tap dripped loudly.
“The house is in my name,” Emily went on. “The accounts are frozen. And I filed for divorce yesterday.”
She turned to Sophie.
“Darling, are you certain you want to tie yourself to a man with no home, no savings, and a mountain of debt?”
Sophie sat frozen.
“II should go,” she stammered.
Margaret shook her head. “James, what were you thinking? We didnt raise you this way.”
“You dont understand, Mum” James began, but his father cut in.
“No, son, *you* dont understand. Seventeen years is no small thing. And you threw it awayfor a fling?”
Friends stared at their plates. Only Thomas, Jamess oldest mate, muttered, “Youve really cocked this up, mate.”
Emily remained standing, serene as a summers day.
“The funny thing is, I believed in us. Like those couples in fairy tales who grow old together. I ignored the late nights, the odd texts, the sudden interest in new cologne.”
She sipped her wine.
“Then I found the receipts. The fancy dinners. The spa days. The jewellery. You took her to all the places you once took me.”
Sophie returned but hovered by the door, clutching her handbag.
“James, we need to talk. Alone.”
“Of course, love,” he said, standing, but Emily stopped him with a wave.
“Wait. Im not done. Remember our first flat? That tiny place in Croydon? We were skint but happy. You said all we needed was each other.”
She smiled.
“Now look at you. Designer suits, flashy car, a mistress half your ageall built on lies and IOUs.”
“James,” Sophies voice trembled, “you told me you were separated. That you were buying us a flat.”
“Soph, I can explain”
“Save it,” Emily said, producing another envelope. “Bank statements. Sophie might like to know youve been seeing two other girls. Or should I saystudents?”
The room held its breath. Sophie turned and fled, her heels clicking down the hall.
“Emily,” James groaned, gripping his hair, “why are you doing this?”
“Why?” She laughed bitterly. “Did you expect me to weep and beg? To let you walk away scot-free?”
She scanned the room.
“The saddest part is, I loved you. Every wrinkle, every grey hair. Even your snoring made me smile. I was ready to grow old with you.”
“Love,” Margaret whispered, “perhaps thats enough.”
“No, Mum. Let them hear. Let them hear how your son took loans to spoil his mistresses. How he squandered our money. How he lied to everyone.”
She pulled out one last document.
“And this? Three months ago, you had me sign something for the accountant. It was a loan guarantee. You used my car as collateral.”
Chairs scraped. Guests murmured apologies, slipping out one by one. Only Jamess parents and Thomas remained.
“Son,” his father said heavily, rising, “were leaving. Call us when youve sorted yourself out.”
Margaret hugged Emily. “Forgive us, darling. We never imagined he”
“Dont apologise, Mum. This isnt your fault.”
After they left, Thomas clapped James on the shoulder.
“Mate, youve proper messed up. Ring me if you need anything. But dont ask
