She didnt argue. She simply left.
The autumn morning was damp and grey. Emily Carter woke to the shrill buzz of her alarm and, with little enthusiasm, slipped out from under the blanket. Throwing a housecoat over her shoulders, she padded to the window and drew back the curtains. The bleak scene outside matched her mooddrizzle, bare tree branches, a low overcast sky.
Today marked the thirtieth wedding anniversary for her and James Turner. Emily didnt expect any special wishes. In recent years James had completely forgotten such milestones. If he did remember, it was only because she hinted at it delicately.
She brewed a mug of tea, settled at the kitchen table, and unintentionally recalled their first anniversaryfive years after the wedding. Back then James had surprised her with a huge bouquet of roses and tickets to the theatre. After the performance they dined out, and he raised a heartfelt toast to love and loyalty. At the time, Emily believed their marital bliss would last forever.
A loud snore rumbled from the bedroom. James could sleep until noon. Lately he often returned home after midnight, smelling of tobacco and cheap whisky. When Emily asked him where hed been, his answers were vague: stayed late with the lads, important meeting, you wouldnt understand anyway.
Emily sighed and began preparing breakfast. She decided to make pancakes, hoping the familiar taste might jog Jamess memory of the special day. In their youth he always claimed her pancakes were the best in the world.
Around ten, a halfasleep James shuffled into the kitchen. Without a greeting, he headed straight for the fridge.
Good morning, Emily said softly. Ive made pancakes.
I dont have time to fuss over your pancakes, James muttered, pouring himself a glass of kefir. Vicky called, wants me to pop over and look at her car.
A lump rose in Emilys throat. Deep down she still clung to a sliver of hope for a miracle.
Do you remember what day it is today? she asked gently.
James froze for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly. Its Tuesday, I think. Whats it to you?
Nothing, Emily replied quietly, turning toward the window to hide the tears gathering in her eyes.
James gulped his kefir, tossed the empty glass into the sink, and disappeared into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he emerged, ready to leave.
Im off to Vickys. Dont expect me back for dinner, he called over his shoulder.
James, today marks thirty years since we said I do, Emily managed to say.
He stopped in the doorway, scowling. And now what? You want a parade? Emily, how many more anniversaries do you need? Do you want flowers? Ill buy them, no problem.
Its not about the flowers. I thought it mattered to you too, she whispered.
Ive got a mountain of work, no time for sentiment, he snapped, slamming the door.
Emily was left alone in the empty flat. She cleared the cooling pancakes from the table and brewed another cup of tea. Memories of happier days swirled through her mind like distant shadows.
After lunch Emily decided to take a walk. The rain had stopped, and a shy autumn sun peeked through. She strolled through the park, inhaling the fresh air and reflecting on her life.
When she first met James, he was a cheerful, attentive lad. He worked as a bus driver and dreamed of owning his own garage. They married quickly, half a year after meeting. Their daughter Emma was born soon after. They lived modestly but cheerfully. James always made time for family, even after long shifts.
Eventually his fortunes turned. He opened a small garage, earning enough to buy a flat and a car. Emma grew up, completed her studies, and moved to Bristol for work.
But the marriage grew colder with each passing year. James began staying late at work, then disappearing in the evenings. Emily endured silently, never causing a scene. She convinced herself it was temporary, that things would improve. Yet the years slipped by unchanged.
Lost in thought, Emily didnt notice she had wandered into a tiny café. Feeling melancholic, she ordered a hot chocolate.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and cosy. She settled at a window seat, watching the other patrons. At the next table, an elderly couple sipped tea and shared a slice of cake. The man gently dabbed crumbs from the womans lips with a napkin; she smiled gratefully. The tenderness of the gesture tightened Emilys heart.
Why has everything fallen apart with James? she wondered, stirring her drink. When did we stop seeing each other?
That evening she returned home to a quiet, empty flat. She turned on the television to fill the silence and began preparing dinner. The habit of feeding James, even when he showed no appreciation, lingered.
Just after nine, the doorbell rang. Their neighbour, Peter Blake, stood on the threshold with a bottle of wine.
Emily, sorry to drop by so late, he said, smiling. I remember you mentioned your wedding anniversary is early November.
Emily was taken aback. She and Peter were merely friendly neighbours, exchanging a few words in the hallway now and then, helping each other with small chores. She hadnt even recalled mentioning the date to him.
Thanks, Peter, she replied, accepting the wine. I didnt expect
I didnt want to be a nuisance, he said apologetically. I know James is often away, so I thought Id wish you well. Anyway, happy anniversary.
When Peter left, Emily stood holding the bottle, stunned. A stranger remembered her milestone, while her own husband hadnt even thought to call.
Just before midnight James stumbled in, reeking of alcohol, a bright lipstick mark on his shirt.
Where have you been? Emily asked quietly.
Now Ive got to answer for everything? James retorted. We were out with the lads, celebrating whatever.
Whats that stain on your shirt?
What stain? James glanced at the shirt and waved it off. Its nothing. Vickys daughter leaned on me when we greeted. Shes still a kid.
Vickys daughter is twentyseven, Emily, James replied calmly. She only wears deep red lipstick. This is bright scarlet.
Enough with the jealousy, James snapped. Maybe shes using a new shade, who knows? And why are you interrogating me?
Emily didnt argue. She slipped into the bedroom, locked the door, and lay down. Sleep refused her. The thought that their marriage had become a farce gnawed at her. They lived like distant neighbours, hardly friendly.
The next morning, while James napped on the sofa, Emily called Emma.
Hey, love. Hows everything? Hows baby Tom?
All good, Mum, Emma replied. Toms crawling everywhere. Dad didnt call yesterday. Forgot about the anniversary?
See, Emily murmured, a sad smile playing on her lips. Listen, I need to talk. Remember you offered to have me stay while you looked after the grandchild?
Of course! Are you serious? Emma beamed. Come over, wed love to have you! Tom would enjoy his grandma.
Ill come, Emily said firmly, but not just for a week as you suggested. I want to stay longer, maybe even move permanently.
Mum, is something wrong? Emma asked, worried.
Nothing special, Emily replied. Im just very tired. Well talk later. Ill arrive in three days.
After speaking with Emma, Emily felt a strange relief. A decision that had been brewing for years finally took shape. She no longer wanted to live with a man who didnt respect or value her.
James awoke around lunchtime, his head pounding. Emily placed a tablet and a glass of water beside him without a word.
Whats got you so gloomy? he asked, wincing. Still sulking about yesterday? Sorry I forgot the date. Who hasnt slipped up?
Im going to Emmas, Emily said calmly. I want to help with the baby.
When? he asked, indifferent.
Day after tomorrow.
For how long?
I dont know. Maybe forever.
James, about to swallow his tablet, stared at her, mouth open.
What do you meanforever?
In the literal sense, Emily replied, meeting his gaze. Im leaving you, James.
Why now? he chuckled nervously. Because of the anniversary? I could buy you a bouquet right now if thats what you need.
Its not about flowers, Emily shook her head. Its that weve become strangers. You live your life, I live mine. Yet we keep pretending were a family.
Emily, what are you talking about? Weve spent thirty years together!
Thats exactly why Im leaving now, she said, a wistful smile touching her lips. I wont let us waste another thirty years hurting each other.
Whos hurting you? James snapped. I have a roof over our heads. I bring home the money. What more do you want?
Emily watched the angry, bewildered man and thought of how much he had changed. Or perhaps he simply stopped pretending.
I need a lot, James, she said quietly. I need attention, care, respect. I need to feel loved and important, not just a housekeeper who washes shirts stained with someone elses lipstick.
Again with your complaints! James exploded. I told you nothing happened!
It doesnt matter whether it happened, Emily replied, exhausted. What matters is that were strangers now. You act as if I dont exist, and I cant live like that any longer.
Wait, he stammered, running his hand through his hair. Youre really going to leave? What about the flat, the belongings?
I dont need much. Ill take only whats mine. Let the flat stay with you. My peace of mind matters more.
Where will you go? To my daughters place? Does she need a motherinlaw?
Emma invited me, Emily answered calmly. Ill help with the baby, maybe find a job there. The city is big, there are plenty of opportunities.
And what about me? Who will cook, wash, clean?
Emily gave a rueful smile. That was the whole answer.
Youre an adult, James. Youll manage. Or youll find someone younger and prettier wholl put up with your antics.
The next two days, James acted as if Emilys decision were a joke, offering clumsy compliments and vague promises to change.
Emily, lets forget everything, he pleaded one evening before she left. Ill try, I swear. Well go to the theatre, dine out. How about a holiday by the sea next summer?
But Emily had already made up her mind. She packed her essentials into a suitcase, leaving the rest for later.
In the morning a taxi arrived. James stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.
Maybe youll stay after all? he asked as Emily prepared to leave. Think about it. Thirty years is no small thing. You cant just walk away.
Goodbye, James, Emily said softly, touching his shoulder lightly. Take care of yourself.
She didnt argue or linger. She simply walked out.
On the way to the railway station, Emily watched the familiar streets glide past the taxi window and felt, for the first time in many years, a sense of freedom. The future was unknown, but it no longer frightened her. Instead, she welcomed the possibility of something better.
At the station, Emma waited with little Tom. The baby reached for his grandmother instantly, and Emily lifted him, tears streaming down her cheeksnot from sorrow, but from relief.
Mum, are you crying? Emma asked, concerned. What happened? Did you and Dad fight?
No, love, Emily replied, kissing the chubby cheek. We didnt fight. I just realised sometimes you have to know when to walk away.
Six months later, Emily landed a job at a local nursery, rented a modest flat near Emma, and felt happier than she had in years.
James called a few times, begging her to return, but his voice carried only selfish longing for comfort, not genuine remorse.
One evening, walking home from work, Emily passed a park bench where an elderly couple sat arminarm, speaking softly. The woman smiled at her, and Emily returned the smile.
True love looks like this, she thought. Even after many years, you still see the other 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 her heart was warm and calm. She had no regrets about her decision. Sometimes you must close one door to open another, and the courage to leave can be the first step toward a new, hopeful life.
