“Your time’s up,” said the husband, pointing to the door.
“Not again! I asked you not to smoke indoors!” Emily flung open the living room windows, angrily swatting at the curtains. “Goodness, even the sofa reeks. What will Margaret and her husband think when they come for dinner?”
“What will they think?” Daniel stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray with deliberate force. “Theyll think a normal bloke lives here who happens to smoke. Big deal.”
“Normal blokes, Daniel, smoke outsidenot poison their family with fumes. I get headaches because of you.”
“Here we go.” He rolled his eyes. “Lived with a smoker for twenty-five years, and suddenly its a problem. Maybe its your hormones, love.”
Emily clenched her lips. Lately, hed been bringing up her age more often, as if trying to wound herand somehow, it always hit its mark.
“Whats that got to do with anything?” She turned to the window to hide the tears pricking her eyes. “Im just asking for basic respect. Is it really so hard to step outside?”
“Respect?” He scoffed. “What about your respect for me? After work, I just want to sit in my chair, have a cuppa, and smoke. Not run in and out like some schoolboy. Its my house, after all!”
“Our house,” she corrected quietly.
“Yeah, fineours.” He waved a hand. “Except Im the one paying the mortgage, the bills, the renovations. Even your new coat came from my pocket.”
Emily exhaled slowly. Shed heard this a thousand times. Yes, she hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst raising the kids, then caring for his mother, then just settling into being a homemaker. And Daniel had made sure she never forgot it.
“I dont want to argue,” she said wearily. “Just smoke outside. Margaret has asthmashell struggle to breathe.”
“Fine,” he conceded unexpectedly. “For your precious Margaret, Ill step onto the balcony. But just tonight.”
He rose from the chair and headed to the bedroom, tossing over his shoulder,
“Speaking of, whyd you invite them? Ive got an early meeting tomorrowI need sleep, not to entertain your dull friends.”
“Theyre not just friends,” Emily said. “Robert is head librarianhe could help me find work.”
Daniel stopped mid-stride and turned slowly.
“What work?”
Emily hesitated. Shed meant to tell him later, once things were settled. Now she had no choice.
“I want a job at the library,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Three days a week, part-time. The kids are grown, youre always at the office I need something to do.”
“Wholl handle the house?” he cut in. “The cooking, cleaning, laundry?”
“Ill managedont worry. Its only a few hours. And the kids hardly visit now”
“Your mum does, though,” he muttered. “Every week, expecting roast dinners and puddings.”
“She helps with chores,” Emily countered. “And she doesnt come that often.”
“Doesnt matter to me,” he said dismissively. “But this job ideaits nonsense, Em. Youre forty-seven. Stay home, take up a hobbyknitting, your books”
“My books?” Heat flared in her chest. “Daniel, do you even remember I have a degree in English? That I taught literature before the kids?”
“So? That was decades ago. Times change. Whod hire you now?”
“The library,” she repeated stubbornly. “I dont need a fortune. Just purpose. People. To feel like Im more than your housekeeper.”
“Charming.” His mouth twisted. “So home and family mean nothing? Not worthy of your brilliant mind?”
“You know thats not what I meant,” she said, exhausted by the old argument. “Lets talk later. Weve got guests coming.”
She retreated to the kitchen, heart pounding. Every conversation with Daniel lately ended in fights. When had it started? She couldnt pinpoint itjust realised, one day, theyd become strangers sharing a home.
Theyd met at uni, both literature students. He wrote poetry; she adored it. Then came marriage, first Sophie, then James. Daniel climbed the ranks at the publishing house. She stayed homekids, chores, the slow fading of books from her life.
She hadnt noticed him changingthe romantic boy hardening into a cynical man who cared less for her thoughts with each year. By the time she saw it, it was too late.
Margaret and Robert arrived promptly at seven. Robert, a burly man with a beard, launched into politics with Daniel. Margaret, sharp and sprightly, joined Emily in the kitchen.
“Hows Daniel taking the job news?” she asked, slicing carrots.
“Hes against it.”
“Of course. Men hate changeespecially if it inconveniences them.”
“Nothing will change! Ill still run the housejust a few hours out.”
“To him, thats disaster,” Margaret chuckled. “Imaginehe comes home, and youre not there. The horror!”
They laughed, and Emily relaxed. Margaret always steadied her.
Dinner began civilly. Daniel was charming, joking, asking Robert about new releases. Emily dared to hopemaybe todays tension was just a mood.
“About literature,” Margaret said, turning to Emily. “Have you told Daniel about our plan?”
“What plan?” Daniel looked up.
“Well” Emily faltered. “We discussed me leading a childrens book club. At the library.”
“And when was this starting?” His tone turned dangerous.
“Next month,” Margaret answered, oblivious. “Twice weekly, two hours. Barely anything.”
“Fascinating.” Daniel set down his fork. “Were you planning to mention this?”
“I tried today,” Emily murmured.
“Dont recall a proper discussion,” he said to the guests. “Emilys fixated on work lately. At her age, starting a career seems unwise.”
“Why?” Robert frowned. “Emilys highly educated. We need people like her.”
“Perhaps,” Daniel said smoothly. “But she has responsibilitiesto me.”
“Daniel,” Emily flushed with shame. “Not in front of”
“Whats the issue?” He spread his hands. “Im against my wife working. Full stop.”
Silence fell. Margaret shot Robert a helpless look; he cleared his throat.
“Lovely roast, Emily. Margaret, you should get the recipe.”
“Of course,” Emily forced out, humiliation tightening her chest.
The rest of the evening passed in stiff small talkweather, news, anything but work. When the guests left, Emily cleared the table in silence.
“How long were you hiding this?” Daniel blocked the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.
“I wasnt. I wanted the right time.”
“And when was that? After youd started?”
“I dont get why youre so angry,” she said, stacking plates. “Its just a jobnot an affair.”
“To me, its betrayal. We agreedyoud keep house; Id provide. That was the deal.”
“That was twenty years ago! The kids are gone. I need to feel useful!”
“Useful?” He stepped closer. “So home isnt enough? You need freedom? New friends?”
“What? This is about purpose, not”
“Ive seen women like you at work,” he cut in. “First its jobs, then office flings, then divorce.”
“For heavens sake!” Emily gaped. “You think Ill cheatin a library?”
“Im saying no to this. End of discussion.”
Something in her snapped. This was itno more pleading, no more hope.
“Too late,” she said softly. “Im calling Robert tomorrow. Im taking the job.”
Daniel stared. “What did you say?”
“Im working. Not for money, or friendsjust to feel like a person again.”
“So youve decided. Without me.”
“I tried including you. You refused to listen.”
“Brilliant.” He stormed out.
She heard him muttering, pacing. Then he returned, holding her handbag and coat.
“Your times up,” he said, pointing to the door. “If you make choices alone, you can live alone. Get out.”
“Youre throwing me out? Over a library job?”
“Over betrayal. Over breaking our vows.”
He shoved the coat at her.
“Bored with me? Go entertain yourself. Maybe Margaret will take you in.”
Mechanically, she slipped on the coat. It felt surrealtheyd fought before, but never like this.
“Youre serious?” she asked, searching his face. “Over a part-time job?”
“I wont tolerate disrespect,” he said coldly. “Go.”
She inhaled, stepped toward the door, then turned.
“You know whats saddest? You never asked why I need this. Just forbade itlike Im property, not your wife.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
“Because Im terrified,” she whispered. “That one day, you wont come home. That youll leave me for that young editor, the one youve been staying late with for months. And Ill be aloneno job, no income, no identity. Because I gave everything to you.”
Daniel recoiled. “What editor?”
“Claire,” Emily said calmly. “She calls every night. You take the balcony so I wont hear. But walls are thin, Daniel. And Im not deaf.”
She walked out, shutting the door softly. The hallway was quiet, just muffled jazz from upstairs.
Outside, the night air was crisp. She breathed deeplyand felt an odd relief, like a weight lifted after years.
Pulling out her phone, she dialed Margaret.
“Marg? Its Emily. Sorry its late Yes, we talked. Can I come over? Now?”
Walking to the bus stop, she marvelled at lifes strangeness. That morning, shed assumed shed die in that house, with that man, in that endless cycle. Now she moved through darkness toward something unknownand felt freer than ever.
Her phone buzzedDaniels name. She hesitated, then declined the call and powered it off.
Her time was up. The time of fear, silence, compromise. Ahead lay something newterrifying, uncertain, but hers. And she was ready.
