So there was this bloke, Oliver, married to his wife, Eleanor, for seventeen years, when he decided to pack it all in for some young university student. But he had no idea what Eleanor had waiting for him.
She was standing by the window, watching the rain trickle down in those little zigzag paths you get when its just drizzling. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or just a blink? She remembered every anniversary, every silly argument, every quiet morning with tea in bed. And now? Poof. Gone. Like a sandcastle at high tide.
We need to talk, Oliver said, voice flat as a pancake.
She turned slowly, meeting his eyes. That lookguilt mixed with stubbornnessit was the look of a man about to drop a bombshell.
Im leaving, Eleanor. For Emily.
Silence. Just the ticking of that old clock his mum gave them for their wedding.
The student from your department? Her voice was eerily calm.
Yeah. The sparks gone. I need something new. Youre a clever womanyoull understand.
Eleanor smiled. Clever woman. That was his go-to phrase when he wanted his way.
You sure about this? was all she asked.
Absolutely, he said. Ive already packed.
She just nodded, then went to the cabinet and pulled out that bottle of whiskey theyd been saving for a special occasion.
Well, this is a special occasion, in a way, she said, twisting off the cap. Lets have a proper send-off. Invite your mates, your family. Seventeen years deserves a goodbye, dont you think?
Oliver blinked. You want to throw a party for our divorce?
Why not? Eleanor grinnedand something in that grin sent a chill down his spine. Lets do it right. After all, I *am* a clever woman, remember?
She whipped out her phone, fingers flying.
Tomorrow, seven oclock. Ill make your favourites. Call it my parting gift.
Oliver just stood there, gobsmacked. Hed expected tears, shouting, maybe a plate thrown at his headnot this eerie calm.
Oh, and tell Emily shes invited, Eleanor added without looking up. Id love to meet the girl who managed what I couldntlighting your fire again.
The next morning, Eleanor was up at the crack of dawn.
She rang the bank, met with her solicitor, sorted the paperwork. Every move was calculated, like a chess player setting up checkmate.
By evening, their flat smelled like roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. Eleanor laid out the good chinathe set her mother-in-law gave them as a wedding present.
Has to be perfect, she muttered, adjusting the napkins.
Guests started arriving at seven. Olivers parents were first. His mum, Margaret, hugged her awkwardly.
Ellie, love, are you sure theres no fixing this?
No, Mum. Sometimes youve got to know when to walk away.
Friends trickled in. Oliver and Emily were last to show.
Come in, sit, Eleanor said, gesturing to the head of the table. Tonights all about you two.
Once everyone was settled, Eleanor stood, glass in hand.
Right then. Were here to say goodbye to one chapter and hello to another.
She turned to Oliver.
Ollie, thanks for seventeen yearsthe good, the bad, the in-between. You taught me a lot. Like how love can change shape when youre not looking.
A murmur went round the table. Emily was fiddling with her napkin, staring at her lap.
And you taught me to pay attention to the details, Eleanor said, pulling out a thick envelope. Especially the financial ones.
She spread papers across the table.
Heres the loan for your fancy cartaken out in *our* names. These are the overdue taxes for your business. And these she tapped a stack of receipts, are your little dinners and jewellery runs over the last year. Impressing Emily, were we?
Oliver went white. Emilys head snapped up.
But the best bit? Eleanor pulled out one last document. Our prenup. Remember signing it without reading? Theres a lovely clause about what happens if you cheat.
Dead silence. You could hear the fridge humming.
The flats in my name, Eleanor continued. Accounts are frozen. And I filed for divorce this morning.
She glanced at Emily.
Sweetheart, sure you want to shack up with a bloke whos got no house, no savings, and a mountain of debt?
Emily didnt move.
II need to go, she stammered, bolting for the door.
Margaret shook her head. Oliver James, what were you thinking? We didnt raise you like this.
Mum, you dont get it
No, *you* dont, his dad cut in. Seventeen years is half a lifetime, and you tossed it away for some fling?
Their mates stared at their plates. Only Olivers best mate, Simon, muttered, Mate, youve proper messed up.
Eleanor stayed standing, cool as you please, like she was discussing the weather.
Funny thing is, I really thought we were one of those couples whod grow old together. I ignored the late nights, the hushed phone calls, the sudden interest in new cologne.
She took a sip of wine.
Then I found the receipts. Jewellery. The Ritz. Spa weekends. You took her to all the same places you took me.
Emily came back but hovered in the doorway, handbag clutched to her chest.
Oliver, we need to talk. Now.
Of course, love, he started to stand, but Eleanor held up a hand.
Ah-ah. Not done yet. She pulled out another envelope. Your bank statements. Emily might like to know she wasnt the only one. Two other students, was it?
Silence. Emily turned on her heel and fled, heels clacking down the stairs.
Ellie, Oliver groaned, head in hands, why are you doing this?
Why? She laughed, hollow. Did you think Id weep and beg? Grovel?
She scanned the room.
The mad part is, I *did* love you. Every grey hair, every stupid joke. Even your snoring. I was ready to grow old with you.
Love, Margaret whispered, maybe thats enough.
No, Mum. They should know. How your son took out loans to spoil his girlfriends. How he lied to me, to you, to them.
Another paper.
And this? Three months ago, you had me sign something for the accountant. Turns out it was a loan against *my* car.
Chairs scraped. People mumbled excuses, edging toward the door. Only Olivers parents and Simon stayed.
Son, his dad said, standing, were off. Call us when youve got your head on straight.
Margaret hugged Eleanor. Were so sorry, darling.
Not your fault, Mum.
Simon clapped Oliver on the shoulder. Youre an idiot. Call if you need anythingbut dont ask for cash.
Then it was just Oliver, slumped in his fancy suit, surrounded by half-eaten food.
You know, Eleanor said, tucking the papers away, I couldve screamed, thrown your things out the window, made a scene at your office.
She pulled out a plane ticket.
But Im off to the Maldives tomorrow. Always wanted to go. You said it was a waste of money.
She dropped the keys on the table.
Be out by Friday. The flats going on the market. And dont bother with the accountstheyre locked until court.
Oliver stared, lost. What am I supposed to do now?
Not my problem, she said, slipping on her coat. Funny, thoughIm actually grateful. You shook me awake. Made me realise life doesnt end with you.
At the door, she turned.
Goodbye, Ollie. Hope she was worth it.
The door clicked shut. Oliver sat alone, the rain starting up againjust like the night hed thrown everything away. Only now, there was no one left to watch it with him.
