“Your time’s up,” said the husband, pointing at the door.
“That smell again! I asked you not to smoke in the house!” Emily flung open the living room windows, angrily pushing back the curtains. “Good grief, even the sofa reeks. What will Lydia and Robert think when they come for dinner?”
“And what will they think?” David stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray with deliberate defiance. “They’ll think a normal bloke lives hereone who occasionally smokes. Big deal.”
“Normal blokes, David, smoke on the balcony or outside. They dont poison their families with cigarette fumes. I get headaches from your smoking.”
“Here we go,” David rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly now its a problem. Maybe its the menopause, love.”
Emily stiffened, lips pressed together. Lately, hed been bringing up her ageher fading looks, her moodsas if aiming for the softest spot. And somehow, he always hit home.
“Whats that got to do with it?” She turned to the window to hide the tears. “Im just asking for basic respect. Is it so hard to step outside?”
“Respect?” He scoffed. “Wheres yours for me? After work, I want to sit in my chair, have a cuppa, and smokenot run around like some teenager. At the end of the day, this is my house!”
“Our house,” Emily corrected quietly.
“Yeah, ours,” he conceded grudgingly. “Except I pay the mortgage. I paid for the renovation. I even bought your new coat last winter.”
Emily exhaled slowly. Shed heard this a thousand times. Yes, she hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst raising the kids, then caring for her mother-in-law, then well, shed just settled into being a homemaker. And David had settled into holding it over her.
“I dont want another row,” she said wearily. “Just please smoke on the balcony. Lydia has asthmashell struggle to breathe.”
“Fine,” he said, unexpectedly agreeable. “For your precious Lydia, Ill make an exception. But just for tonight.”
He rose from his chair and headed to the bedroom, tossing over his shoulder, “And honestly, why did you even invite them? Ive got an important meeting tomorrow. I need sleep, not to entertain your dreary friends.”
“Theyre not just friends,” Emily countered. “Michaels the head librarian. He might help me find work.”
David stopped in the doorway and slowly turned. “What work?”
Emily hesitated. Shed meant to tell him later, once things were settled. But now she had no choice.
“I want a job at the library,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Three days a week, part-time. The kids are grown, youre always at the officeI need something to do.”
“And wholl run the house?” David cut in. “Wholl cook, clean, do the laundry?”
“Ill manage,” she forced a smile. “Its only a few hours. And the kids hardly visit anymorewe dont need big meals”
“Your mums over every week, though,” he muttered. “Expecting pies and roasts like clockwork.”
“Mum helps me,” Emily shot back. “And she doesnt come that often.”
“Couldnt care less if she did,” David waved a hand. “But this job nonsenseits a midlife crisis, Emily. Youre forty-seven. Stay home, knit, read your booksdo whatever hobby keeps you busy.”
“My books?” A spark of anger flared in her chest. “David, do you even remember I have a degree in English literature? That I taught before the kids were born?”
“So what?” He dropped back into his chair. “That was twenty years ago. Times change. Whod hire you with that outdated CV?”
“The library would,” she said stubbornly. “I dont need a fortune, David. I need purpose. People. To feel like Im more than just your housekeeper.”
“Cheers for that,” he sneered. “So our home, our lifethats nothing to you? Not good enough for someone as clever as you?”
“Thats not what I meant, and you know it,” Emily sighed. The same argument, again. “Lets talk later. Weve got guests coming.”
She retreated to the kitchen, heart pounding. Lately, every conversation with David became a fight. She didnt know when it startedjust that one day, she realised they spoke different languages. He didnt hear her. Didnt want to.
It hadnt always been like this. Theyd met at universityboth bookish, both in love with words. David wrote poetry; Emily adored it. Then came marriage, first Sophie, then James. David climbed the ranks at the publishing firm. Emily stayed homewith the kids, the chores, the books shed stopped having time to read.
She hadnt noticed him changing. The romantic student hardening into a cynical, tired man who came home later and asked about her thoughts less. By the time she noticed, it was too late. They were strangers under one roof.
Lydia and Robert arrived at seven sharp. Robert, a burly man with a thick beard, launched into politics with David. Lydia, birdlike and lively at sixty, joined Emily in the kitchen.
“Hows Davids mood?” Lydia asked, chopping salad. “Did you talk about the job?”
“No,” Emily sighed. “Hes dead against it.”
“What did you expect?” Lydia shrugged. “Men hate change. Especially when it threatens their comfort.”
“But nothing would change,” Emily pulled a casserole from the oven. “Id still manage the housejust be out a few hours a week.”
“To him, thats war,” Lydia smirked. “Imaginehe comes home, and youre not there. The horror!”
They laughed, and Emily felt some tension ease. Lydia had always been her rock.
Dinner began peacefully. David was charming, joking, asking Michael about new releases. Emily relaxedmaybe todays fight was just a bad mood.
“Speaking of books,” Lydia turned to Emily. “Did you tell David about our plan?”
“What plan?” David looked up from his plate.
“Well” Emily hesitated. “We discussed me running a childrens reading group. At the library.”
“And when was this meant to start?” Davids voice turned sharp.
“Next month,” Lydia chirped, oblivious. “Twice a week, two-hour sessions. Barely any time.”
“Fascinating,” David set down his fork. “Were you planning to discuss this with me?”
“I tried today,” Emily said quietly.
“Dont recall a proper discussion,” David addressed the guests. “You see, Emilys taken a sudden fancy to working. But at her age, starting a career seems unwise.”
“Why?” Michael frowned. “Emilys highly educated. Wed be lucky to have her.”
“Perhaps,” David nodded. “But she has responsibilities. To her family. To me.”
“David,” Emily flushed with humiliation. “Not in front of guests.”
“Whats the issue?” He spread his hands. “Were all adults. Im just setting boundaries. My wife wont be working. Full stop.”
An awkward silence fell. Lydia glanced at her husband, who cleared his throat.
“Delicious casserole, Emily. Lydia, you should get the recipe.”
“Of course,” Emily forced a smile, humiliation burning inside.
The rest of the evening passed with stiff small talkweather, news, anything but work. When the guests left, Emily silently cleared the table.
“How long were you going to hide this from me?” David leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.
“I wasnt hiding,” she stacked plates. “I was waiting for the right time.”
“And when would that be? After youd already started?”
“I dont understand why youre so angry,” she turned to him. “Its just a job. Not an affair. Not a crime.”
“To me, its betrayal,” he said coldly. “We agreedyoud manage the home, Id provide. That was the deal.”
“That was twenty years ago!” Emily cried. “The kids are grown. I have time now. I need to feel useful!”
“And home isnt useful?” He stepped closer. “Say ityoure bored being my wife. You want freedom. New men?”
“What? Thats ridiculous!” Emily stared. “This is about having a purpose, not”
“Ive seen these purposes,” he cut in. “Women at my officefirst its work, then office flings, then divorce.”
“Good God, David,” she couldnt believe her ears. “You think Id take a lover at a library? Surrounded by dusty books and elderly readers?”
“Im just sayingno job. End of discussion.”
Something inside Emily snapped. This was it. The end of the argument, the end of hopemaybe the end of them.
“You know what?” she said quietly. “Im taking the job. Tomorrow, Ill call Michael and accept.”
David gaped. “What did you say?”
“I said Im working. Not for money or men. To feel like a person againnot just an extension of this house.”
“So thats it,” he nodded slowly. “Youve decided. Without me.”
“I tried deciding with you. You wouldnt listen.”
“Fine,” David turned and strode out.
She heard him pacing, muttering. Then he returned, holding her handbag and coat.
“Your times up,” he said, pointing at the door. “If you make decisions alone, you can live alone. Get out.”
“What?” Emily froze. “Youre throwing me out over a library job?”
“Im throwing you out for betrayal,” he said coldly. “For breaking our agreement. For putting yourself above us.”
“What agreement, David? That Id be your maid forever while you” She stopped, then took a breath. “While you come home late smelling of someone elses perfume?”
He recoiled. “What rubbish is this?”
“Claire,” Emily said calmly. “From the office. She calls every night. Sometimes you take it on the balconylike I cant hear. But the walls are thin, David. And Im not deaf.”
She took her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder. It all felt like a bad dream. Theyd argued beforebut hed never kicked her out. Never been this cruel.
“Youre serious?” She searched his face. “Over a job?”
“Im serious about respect,” he said. “Now go.”
She stepped into the hallway, then turned.
“The saddest part? You never asked why I need this. You just forbade itlike Im property, not your wife.”
“Then enlighten me,” he challenged.
“Because Im scared,” she said softly. “Scared youll leave me for Claire one day. And Ill be aloneno job, no money, no life beyond these walls.”
David staggered back as if struck. “What nonsense! What Claire?”
“The one who calls every night,” Emily opened the door. “The one youve been working late with for months.”
She walked out, shutting the door gently behind her. The stairwell was quiet, just faint jazz from the flat above.
Outside, the night air was cool. She inhaled deeplyand felt an odd relief. Like a weight shed carried for years had lifted.
Pulling out her phone, she dialled Lydia.
“Lydia? Its Emily. Sorry its late Yes, we talked. Can I come over? Now?”
Walking to the bus stop, she marvelled at lifes twists. That morning, shed been certain her future was this house, this man, this routine. Now she was stepping into the unknownand feeling freer than she had in years.
Her phone buzzedDavids name flashing on the screen. She hesitated, then declined the call and switched it off.
Her time was up. The time of fear, of silence, of bending. Now began something newterrifying, uncertain, but wholly hers. And she was ready.
