She didnt argue. She simply walked out.
An earlyautumn morning in York was grey and drizzly. Emma Clarke was jolted awake by the shrill alarm clock and, with a sigh, peeled herself out from under the covers. Throwing a robe over her shoulders, she padded over to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and surveyed the bleak scene a thin rain, bare tree branches, a sullen sky.
Today marked the thirtieth anniversary of her marriage to Simon. She wasnt expecting any grand gestures; in recent years Simon had all but forgotten such milestones. When he did remember, it was only after she dropped a gentle hint.
She brewed a mug of tea, settled at the kitchen table, and the memory of their first anniversary slipped in. Five years after the wedding, Simon had surprised her with a massive bouquet of roses and tickets to the theatre. After the performance theyd dined out, and hed delivered a heartfelt toast about love and loyalty. Back then, Emma thought their happiness would last forever.
A muffled snore drifted from the bedroom. Simon could sleep till lunch. Lately hed been coming home after midnight, smelling of tobacco and cheap whisky. His answers to her questions were vague: stayed late with the lads, important meeting, youll never understand anyway.
Emma exhaled and set about making breakfast. She decided on pancakes, hoping the scent would jog his memory hed always claimed hers were the best in the world.
Around ten, a blearyeyed Simon shuffled into the kitchen, bypassed any greeting, and headed straight for the fridge.
Morning, Emma said softly. Ive made pancakes.
Ive no time to fuss with your pancakes, Simon muttered, slurping kefir. Vince rang wants me to pop over and look at his car.
A lump rose in Emmas throat. Somewhere deep down she still hoped for a miracle.
Do you even know what day it is? she asked carefully.
Simon froze for a heartbeat, then shrugged. Tuesday, I think. Why?
Nothing, Emma whispered, turning to the window to hide the tears gathering behind her eyes.
He gulped the kefir, tossed the empty glass into the sink, and disappeared into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he emerged, ready to leave.
Im off to Vinces. Dont expect me for dinner, he called over his shoulder.
Simon, todays thirty years since we said I do, Emma blurted.
He paused at the doorway, scowling. And now what? Throw a parade? Emma, how many more anniversaries do you need? Flowers? Ill buy some, no problem.
Its not about the flowers, she replied quietly. I just thought it mattered to you too.
Ive got a mountain of work. No time for sentiment, he snapped, slamming the door.
Emma was left alone in the empty flat. She cleared the cold pancakes from the table, brewed another tea, and let memories of happier days swirl in her head.
After lunch she decided to take a walk. The rain had stopped, and a shy autumn sun peeked out. She strolled through the park, inhaling the fresh air and pondering her life.
When she first met Simon, he was a cheerful, attentive lad who drove the city bus and dreamed of running his own garage. They married after six months of dating, and their daughter Emily arrived shortly after. They were poor but tightknit; Simon always carved out time for family, even after a long shift.
Eventually his garage took off, money poured in, they bought a semidetached house, a car, and Emily grew up, moved to Bristol, and set up her own life.
But their relationship grew colder each year. First he lingered at work, then he vanished for evenings. Emma endured, never raising a storm, believing it was a phase and that things would improve. Yet time passed and nothing changed.
Lost in thought, she wandered into a tiny café, craving hot chocolate to warm her gloomy mood. Inside, the ambience was cosy. At a corner table an elderly couple nibbled desserts and whispered sweetly. The man gently dabbed crumbs from the womans lips with his napkin; she smiled back, a tender moment that made Emmas heart ache.
Why did things go so wrong with Simon? she wondered, stirring her drink. When did we stop noticing each other?
That evening she trudged back home. The flat was quiet. She flicked on the telly to stave off loneliness and began prepping dinner, still in the habit of feeding a husband who didnt appreciate it.
Around nine, the doorbell rang. Their neighbour, George Thompson, stood there with a bottle of red wine.
Emma, sorry to drop by so late, he said, grinning. Just wanted to wish you well. I recall you mentioned your wedding anniversary is early November.
Emma blinked. George and she were merely friendly neighbours, exchanging a few words in the hallway now and then. She couldnt remember ever mentioning the date.
Thanks, George, she replied, taking the bottle. I didnt expect
No intention to intrude, he said apologetically. I know Simons often away, so I thought Id bring a little cheer. Anyway, Ill be off. Happy anniversary.
When George left, Emma stood holding the wine, stunned that a stranger remembered her milestone while her own husband hadnt bothered.
Near midnight Simon staggered in, reeking of alcohol, a bright lipstick stain on his shirt.
Where have you been? Emma asked softly.
Now I have to report every move? Simon retorted. We were out with the mates, celebrating stuff.
Lipstick on your shirt? she said.
What lipstick? he glanced at the spot, waved it off. Just a girls smudge. Her daughter hugged me when we said hi. Shes still a kid.
Vinces daughter is twentyseven, Emma. She only wears deepred lipstick. This is bright scarlet, Emma replied calmly.
Enough of your jealousy, Simon snapped. Maybe shes using a new shade, who knows? And whats with the interrogation?
Emma didnt argue. She slipped into the bedroom, locked the door, and lay down. Sleep eluded her; the marriage felt more like a tenancy than a partnership.
The next morning, while Simon dozed on the sofa, Emma called Emily.
Hey love, hows everything? Hows little Danny? Emma asked.
All good, mum. Dannys crawling everywhere. Did Dad forget your anniversary? Emily replied.
Clearly, Emma said with a rueful smile. Listen, I need to talk. Remember you offered to have me help with the grandbaby?
Of course! Are you serious? Emily beamed. Come over, wed love you! Danny will love having Grandma around.
Ill come, Emma said firmly. Not for a week as you suggested, but for longer. I might even move in permanently.
Mum, is something wrong? Emily asked, worried.
Nothing major, just tired, Emma assured. Ill be there in three days.
After the call, a strange relief washed over Emma. The decision that had been fermenting for years finally took shape. She no longer wanted to live with someone who didnt respect or value her.
Simon woke around lunch, clutching his head. Emma placed a tablet and a glass of water by his side.
Whats with the sour face? he asked, wincing. Still sulking over yesterday? Sorry, I missed the date. These things happen.
Im off to Emilys, Emma said evenly. I want to help with the baby.
When? Simon asked, disinterested.
Day after tomorrow.
For how long?
Not sure. Maybe forever.
Simon froze, tablet halfswallowed, his mouth agape.
What do you mean, forever? he asked.
In the literal sense, Emma replied, meeting his gaze. Im leaving you, Simon.
What? Because of an anniversary? he laughed nervously. I could buy you a dozen bouquets right now if that helps.
Its not the bouquets, Emma shook her head. Weve been strangers for years. You live your life; I live mine. We just keep pretending were a family.
Emma, what are you saying? Weve been together thirty years!
Thats exactly why Im going now, she said, a sad smile playing on her lips. I dont want us to waste another thirty years tormenting each other.
Whos tormenting who? Simon retorted. Roof over my head? Got it. Money? I bring that in. What else do you want?
Emma watched the angry, bewildered man and thought about how much hed changed or perhaps simply stopped pretending.
I need a lot, Simon, she whispered. Attention, care, respect. I need to feel loved and important, not just the person who washes your shirts stained with strangers lipstick.
Here we go again with your complaints! Simon exploded. There was nothing there!
Whether there was or not doesnt matter, Emma said wearily. What matters is that were strangers now. You act as if Im invisible, and I cant live like that any longer.
Wait, he said, hair flailing. Youre really leaving? What about the flat? My stuff?
I dont need much. Ill take only my things. The house can stay yours. I just need peace of mind.
And where will you go? To my daughters place? Does she need a motherinlaw living in her house?
Emily invited me, Emma replied calmly. Ill help with the baby, maybe find a job there. The citys big, opportunities are plenty.
What about me? Wholl cook, wash, tidy?
Emma gave a rueful smile. Youre a grown man, Simon. Youll manage. Or youll find someone younger and prettier to tolerate your antics.
For the next two days Simon pretended he didnt take her seriously, alternating between feigned indifference and clumsy compliments, promising to change.
Emma, lets forget all this, he pleaded one evening as she packed. Ill try, I swear. Well go to the theatre, dine out. Maybe a holiday to Cornwall next summer?
Emma had already made up her mind. She packed the essentials into a suitcase, leaving the rest for later.
A taxi arrived in the morning. Simon stood in the doorway, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Maybe youll stay? he asked as Emma lifted the suitcase. Think about it. Thirty years isnt a joke. You cant just walk away.
Goodbye, Simon, Emma said softly, brushing his shoulder. Take care of yourself.
She didnt argue or linger. She simply left.
On the way to the train station, Emma stared out the taxi at familiar streets and felt, for the first time in ages, a lightness she hadnt known. The future was unknown, but it didnt scare her; it beckoned.
Emily met her at the station with little Danny in tow. The toddler instantly clutched at his grandmother, and Emma held him, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.
Mum, are you crying? Emily asked, alarmed. What happened? Did you and Dad fight?
No, love, Emma said, kissing the chubby cheek. We didnt fight. I just realised sometimes you have to know when to walk away.
Six months later Emma landed a job at a nursery, rented a modest flat near Emilys, and felt happier than she had in years.
Simon called a few times, begging her to return, but his voice carried only selfish desire for comfort, no genuine remorse.
One evening, after work, Emma passed a park where the same elderly couple from the café strolled arminarm, chatting quietly. The woman caught Emmas eye and smiled; Emma returned the grin.
Thats what real love looks like, she thought. Even after many years, you can still view someone with tenderness, not irritation.
Back home, she brewed a cup of tea, settled into her favourite armchair, and opened a book. Outside, a light spring rain fell, but inside she felt warm and at peace. She didnt regret her choice. Sometimes you have to close one door simply to open another, and walk through it without looking back.
