**Who Needs You Anyway**
“Max, please, just let me go… We tried to build a life together, but its not working. Why keep torturing each other? Lets just get a divorce.”
“As if!” Max snorted, flashing a bitter smirk. “Dream on. Youre my wife, Im your husband, and thats how it stays. What, life not good enough for you? Or have you stopped loving me? Is there someone else? Answer me when Im talking to you!”
***
Emily perched on the edge of the sofa, nervously picking at the fringe of the throw blanket. After yet another row with her husband, she just wanted to vanishdisappear from his life for good. Divorce was an option, of course But she couldnt summon the courage to file. Two years of marriage now felt like a bad dream, especially the last six monthsMax had morphed into some sort of petty domestic tyrant, finding new reasons to nag her every day.
This morning had started with something trivial, or so it seemed. Emily had ordered a new face cream.
“Wasting money on rubbish again?” came Maxs voice the moment she walked in with the parcel.
She tried explaining, but Max wasnt having it.
“Do you ever think about *us*? Or just yourself? Face cream, really? Couldve spent it on something usefullike helping *my* parents!”
“Max, come on! I work, its my money. And I *do* help your parents, you know that.”
“Barely a tenner here and there! They need *real* help. Youre selfish, Em. Always thinking about yourself. Blowing your wages on potions for your face and pointless clothes!”
His voice rose, eyes flashing. Emily couldnt take it and burst into tears. True to form, Max slammed the door, leaving her alone with her tears and a crushing sense of helplessness. He always did thispushed her to the edge, then walked away.
…Emily remembered how it all started. Max had seemed perfectattentive, caring, head over heels. But something had shifted. Or maybe shed just never seen the *real* Max before?
That evening, Max returned. Emily sat at the kitchen table sipping tea.
“Been crying again?” he asked, not bothering to look at her.
“No… You just hurt me.”
“*I* hurt you? Thats rich. Maybe think before you act.”
“What am I doing wrong?” she whispered.
“*Everything.* You dont even try. I work myself to the bone, and you? Clicking away at a keyboard half the day, lounging at home the rest!”
“I work just as hard as you,” Emily protested, instantly regretting it.
“Hardly! You earn peanuts. *I* keep this household going. You should be grateful, Em. Not once in this marriage have you even *thanked* mewhen I deserve it!”
“I *am* grateful… But that doesnt mean you can speak to me like this.”
“Oh, how *should* I speak to you? Youre never happy. And your constant waterworks? Drives me mad! Always playing the victim!”
The disgust in his voice made Emilys stomach twist.
“I dont understand,” she murmured. “Why are you like this?”
“Just dont wind me up, and well be fine.”
Emily looked at him. No warmth left in his eyesjust irritation.
“Maybe we should talk,” she ventured. “See a counsellor?”
“A *therapist*? *Youre* the one who needs help. Always inventing problems.”
That settled it. She *had* to leave. Max wolfed down his dinner and parked himself in front of the telly while she dug out an old notepad and started plotting her escape. Every detail mattered.
***
Next morning, Emily left early, ducking into a café for coffee and quiet. She flipped open her notepad.
*Step one: find part-time work. Need extra cash. Step two: rent a flatsomewhere small. Step three: pack essentials. Step four…*
“Em?”
She glanced upSophie, an old school friend, stood there.
“Soph! What are the odds?”
“Been ages!” Sophie smiled. “Working round here?”
“No, just… thinking,” Emily hedged.
“You okay? You look rough. Ill?”
It had been *years* since anyone asked. She hadnt unloaded on her parentsdidnt want to worry themand Max had slowly alienated all her friends. The dam broke.
“Soph, its awful. Maxhe nitpicks, belittles me… I cant take it anymore. Sometimes he even… raises his hand.”
Sophie listened, never interrupting.
“I want to leave. God, I *do*. But Im terrified. Where do I even start?”
“*Run.* Ive got you. Stay with me awhile. And theres helpfree counselling for women like you.”
“I had no idea.”
“Now you do. And Em? Youre stronger than you think.”
Two hours later, Emily felt like a new person.
***
That night, Max was waiting. Feet up, telly blaring.
“Whereve you been?”
“Out.”
“Out a *lot* lately. Seeing someone?”
Her blood ran cold.
“Dont be ridiculous.”
“Wouldnt put it past you.”
“Max, *stop*.”
“Stop what? Compliments? Tough.”
Emily steadied herself.
“Max. We need to talk.”
“About your fling?”
“About *us.* I want a divorce.”
Max blinked.
“*What?*”
“I cant live like this. You chip away at me every day. Im *miserable.*”
“Youre *mental*! Divorce? Youre *nothing* without me! You should be *thanking* me!”
“I dont *owe* you gratitude. I owe myself happiness.”
“*Happiness?* Youll regret this. *No one* will want you.”
Emily stayed silent. No more arguing. Her mind was made.
“Im leaving tomorrow.”
“And go *where*? Youre *broke!*”
“Not your problem.”
“Ill *ruin* you!” Max roared. “Youll *wish* youd never crossed me! Ungrateful *bitch!*”
Emily turned and walked to the bedroom. Time to pack.
Max slept on the sofa. Emily stared at the ceiling, fear and hope tangling. She dreaded being alonebut staying? Unthinkable.
Morning came. Max sat at the table, coffee in hand.
“Youre *not* leaving.”
“Its done, Max.”
“I *forbid* it!”
“Enough.”
“You *listen* to me”
He lunged. Emily recoiled.
“Dont touch me!”
Max shoved her against the wall. Her head cracked against it as she crumpled. He raised a fist. She shut her eyes, bracing for the blow…
