She didnt argue. She simply walked out.
A bleak, drizzly autumn morning hung over the flat in Manchester. Helen Barker awoke to the obnoxious shriek of her alarm clock and pulled herself out from under the duvet with a sigh. Throwing on a robe, she shuffled to the window and pulled the curtains aside. The gloomy scene outside fine rain, skeletal trees, a cloudfilled sky mirrored her mood perfectly.
Today marked the thirtieth anniversary of her marriage to Mike Harris. She hadnt expected any grand gestures; in recent years Mike had all but forgotten such milestones. When he did remember, it was only after Helen dropped a hint or two.
Helen brewed a mug of tea, settled at the kitchen table, and drifted back to their first anniversary, five years after the wedding. Mike had turned up that day with a massive bouquet of roses and tickets to the West End. After the play they dined out, and he raised a toast about love and loyalty that left her convinced their happiness would last forever.
A loud snore rose from the bedroom. Mike could easily sleep until lunch. Lately his nights stretched into the early hours, the flat smelling of tobacco and cheap lager. When Helen asked where hed been, he shrugged, stayed out with the lads, or had a meeting, as if she couldnt possibly understand.
Helen exhaled and began making breakfast, deciding on pancakes perhaps the scent would jog his memory. Hed always claimed hers were the best in the world.
Around ten, a blearyeyed Mike shuffled into the kitchen, bypassed any greeting, and headed straight for the fridge.
Morning, Helen said quietly. Ive made pancakes.
Ive no time to fiddle with your pancakes, he grumbled, pouring himself a glass of kefir. Vince called, wants me to look at his car.
A lump rose in Helens throat. Deep down, she still hoped for a miracle.
Do you know what day it is today? she asked, cautiously.
Mike paused, then shrugged. Its Tuesday, I think. Why?
Nothing, she whispered, turning to the window to hide the tears welling up.
Mike guzzled the kefir, smashed his glass into the sink, and vanished into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he emerged, ready to leave.
Im off to Vinces. Dont expect me for dinner, he said as he headed out.
Mike, todays thirty years since we said I do, Helen blurted.
He halted in the doorway, scowling.
And now what? You want a parade? Flowers? Ill buy them, no big deal.
Its not about the flowers, she replied softly. I just thought it mattered to you too.
Ive got work to do, no time for sentiment, he snapped, slamming the door.
Helen was left alone in the empty flat. She cleared the cooling pancakes from the table and brewed another cup of tea, the memories of happier days swirling in her head.
After lunch she decided to take a walk. The rain had stopped, a shy autumn sun peeking through. She strolled through the park, breathing in the crisp air and mulling over her life.
When shed first met Mike, hed been a cheerful, attentive bloke who drove the city bus and dreamed of owning his own garage. Theyd married quickly, six months after meeting. Their daughter, Lucy, was born not long after. They lived modestly but happily; Mike always carved out time for the family, even after exhausting shifts.
Eventually his garage business took off. Money started flowing, they bought a flat, a car, and Lucy grew up, moved out to Leeds, and built her own life.
But their marriage grew colder each year. First, late evenings at work, then whole nights disappearing. Helen endured it all, never raising her voice, convinced it was just a phase that would pass. Yet time ticked on with no change.
Lost in thought, she wandered into a tiny café shed never noticed before. The gloom in her chest begged for warmth, so she ordered a hot chocolate.
Inside, the place was snug and inviting. She settled at a window seat, watching the other patrons. At the next table, an elderly couple nibbled pastries and chatted softly. The man dabbed crumbs from his partners lips with a napkin, and she smiled gratefully. The simple tenderness made Helens heart flutter.
Why did things go so wrong with Mike? she wondered, stirring her drink. When did we stop noticing each other?
That evening she trudged back home to the quiet flat. She turned on the telly to fend off loneliness and started cooking dinner out of habit feeding the man who barely appreciated it.
Around nine, a knock sounded. Their neighbour, Mr. Bennett, stood on the landing with a bottle of wine.
Hey, Helen, sorry for the late visit, he said, smiling. Just wanted to wish you well. I remember you mentioned your wedding anniversary is early November.
Helen blinked, surprised. Theyd only ever exchanged a few pleasantries in the hallway. She hadnt even told him about the date.
Thanks, Mr. Bennett, she replied, taking the bottle. I didnt expect
Just didnt want to be a stranger. Mikes often away, so I thought Id drop a line. Anyway, happy anniversary.
When he left, Helen lingered with the wine in her hands. A stranger remembered her milestone, while her own husband hadnt bothered to call.
Just before midnight, Mike staggered in reeking of alcohol, a bright lipstick stain on his shirt.
Where have you been? Helen asked softly.
Do I need to explain everything now? he snapped. Had a night out with the lads, celebrating
Whats that stain?
Its nothing, he waved it off. Vinces daughter leaned on me when she greeted me. Shes still a kid.
Vinces daughter is twentyseven, and she only wears burgundy, Helen said evenly. Thats a vivid red mark.
Enough of your jealousy, Mike snapped. Maybe shes trying a new shade, who knows? And whats this interrogation?
Helen didnt argue. She slipped into the bedroom, shut the door, and lay down. Sleep eluded her; the thought that their marriage had become a farce kept her awake. They lived like indifferent neighbours.
The next morning, while Mike dozed on the couch, Helen called Lucy.
Hey, love. Hows everything? Hows little Danny?
All good, Mum, Lucy replied. Hes crawling everywhere. Did Dad forget your anniversary again?
As you can see, Helen sighed, I need to talk. Remember you offered to let me stay while you look after the baby?
Of course! Come over, wed love to have you. Danny could use a grandmas cuddles.
Ill come, Helen said firmly. But not just for a week as you suggested. I think Ill stay longer, maybe even move in.
Is something wrong? Lucy asked, worried.
Nothing major, just tired, Helen answered. Well chat later. Ill be there in three days.
The call left Helen oddly relieved. A decision that had lingered for years finally took shape. She no longer wanted to live with a man who didnt respect or value her.
Mike awoke around lunch, his head pounding. Helen placed a tablet and a glass of water beside him.
Whats with the gloom? he asked, grimacing. Still sulking over yesterday? Sorry, I forgot the date. Who hasnt?
Im off to Lucys, Helen said calmly. I want to help with the baby.
When? he asked, uninterested.
Day after tomorrow.
For how long?
I dont know. Maybe permanently.
Mike stared at his tablet, mouth open.
What do you mean, permanently?
Literally, Helen replied, meeting his gaze. Im leaving you, Mike.
What? Because of the anniversary? he chuckled nervously. I could buy you a dozen roses right now if that helps.
Its not the roses, she shook her head. Weve been strangers for years. You live your life; I live mine. Pretending were a family has become a joke.
Helen, what are you talking about? Weve been together thirty years!
Thats exactly why Im going now, she said, a sad smile tugging at her lips. I dont want us to waste another thirty years tormenting each other.
Whos tormenting you? he snapped. Roof over my head? Ive got that. Money? I bring that in. What more do you need?
Helen watched the angry, bewildered man and thought of how much hed changed or perhaps simply stopped pretending.
I need attention, care, respect. I need to feel loved and important, not just a housekeeper who washes shirts stained with other peoples lipstick.
Here we go again, Mike roared. There was nothing there!
It doesnt matter whether there was or not, Helen replied, tired. What matters is that were strangers now. You act as if I dont exist, and I cant go on like that.
Wait, he said, hair mussed. Youre really leaving? What about the flat, the stuff?
I dont need much. Ill take only my things. Let the flat stay with you. I value peace of mind more.
And where will you go? Back to Lucys? Does she need a motherinlaw around?
Lucy invited me. Ill help with the baby, maybe find a job nearby. The citys big, opportunities everywhere.
What about me? Wholl cook, wash, tidy?
Helen gave a rueful smile. That was the answer.
Youre a grown man, Mike. Youll manage. Or you could find someone younger and prettier to put up with your antics.
For the next two days Mike tried to convince her hed change, offering clumsy compliments and promises of theatre trips and a seaside holiday next summer. Helen had already made up her mind. She packed her essentials into a suitcase, leaving the rest for later.
A taxi arrived in the morning. Mike shuffled at the door, nervous.
Maybe youll stay? he asked as Helen gathered her coat. Think about it. Thirty years isnt a joke.
Goodbye, Mike, she said softly, brushing his shoulder. Take care of yourself.
She didnt argue or linger. She simply walked out.
On the way to the station, Helen watched the familiar Manchester streets through the taxi window and felt a lightness she hadnt known in decades. The unknown ahead didnt scare her; it felt like a fresh start.
At the station, Lucy met her with baby Danny in her arms. The little boy immediately reached for his grandmother, and Helen held him, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.
Mum, are you crying? Lucy asked, startled. Did you and Dad have a fight?
No, love, Helen smiled, kissing his chubby cheek. We didnt fight. I just realised sometimes you have to know when to walk away.
Six months later Helen was working in a nursery, living in a cosy flat not far from Lucys, happier than shed been in years.
Mike called a few times, begging her to return, but his voice carried only selfish longing, no genuine remorse.
One evening, after work, Helen passed a park bench where an elderly couple the same pair from the café ambled hand in hand, whispering to each other. The woman flashed a warm smile at Helen, and Helen returned it.
Thats what real love looks like, she thought. Even after many years, you can still see tenderness, not irritation.
Back home, she brewed another cup of tea, sank into her favourite armchair, and opened a book. Outside, a gentle spring rain fell, but inside her heart felt warm and at peace. She didnt regret her choice. Sometimes you have to close one door simply to walk through another, without drama or shouting, just a quiet, steady step forward.
