Emily clutches the cuff of her husbands blazer with such force that the knuckles of her fingers turn white.
Emma, let go, James says calmly, pulling her hands away. Ive made up my mind. Enough of the drama. You know its over between us.
What are you talking about? After twenty years of marriage? And what about me? Emilys voice cracks, rising to a shout.
Yesterday she had been planning their summer holiday, discussing a new bathroom remodel, and then James suddenly announced, Emma, Im leaving for Rachel. At first she thought shed misheard, then assumed it was a joke, but James was dead serious.
Whos Rachel? Emily stammers, the words tumbling out.
My colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, James replies as if hes talking about a new TV, not the collapse of their life together.
Emily sinks into an armchair, looking at the man shes spent two decades with and barely recognizing him. Where has the shy, gentle, caring James gone? In his place stands a stranger with cold eyes.
That night she doesnt sleep. Wrapped in an old dressing gown, she paces the kitchen, replaying every day of their twentyyear marriage, searching for the moment things went wrong. How did she miss his growing indifference? How did she overlook the arrival of a rival?
Now he stands in the hallway with a travel bag, ready to walk out, leaving her stunned, numb, crushed.
James, please, Emily pleads, no longer shouting but begging. You cant just toss twenty years away in an instant. Did something happen at work? Do you need time to think?
Theres nothing to think about, Emma, James says, not looking at her, fiddling with the bags zipper. I love another woman. Im bored with you. Youre a good housewife, but thats not enough. Rachel understands me; shes interesting.
So Im just a cook and a laundress now? Emilys bitterness spills over.
I never said that. Dont twist my words, James snaps, tightening his lips. Lets skip the theatrics. Ill call a solicitor and well file for divorce. Ill leave you the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want our family! I want you! she raises her voice again.
Emma, stop. My taxis downstairs.
He clicks the bags lock, glances around one last time, and heads for the door.
James! Emily dashes after him. If you walk out now, never come back! Got that?
At the threshold he turns, Youre always so dramatic, Emma. Lets keep the noise down. Ill collect the rest of my stuff next week.
The door slams. Emily leans against the wall, slides down to the floor, and the apartment feels emptyno tears, no pain, just a deafening void.
Sarah, Emilys best friend, bursts in as soon as she hears the news. She surveys the scene: Emma sitting in a chair with a detached stare, photographs scattered, a broken vase on the floor.
Love, lets make you a cup of tea and you can tell me everything, Sarah says, wrapping a blanket around Emmas shaking shoulders.
While the kettle whistles, Sarah tidies up, gathers the shards, and settles Emma into a more comfortable spot.
So he left for a younger woman? Sarah asks once Emma steadies herself.
I dont even know, Emma replies, shrugging. He said shes a colleagueRachel.
Typical, Sarah sighs. Grey hair, a new fling.
James looks fine, actually. And Rachel doesnt seem that much younger, Emma protests.
What does it matter? Sarah retorts. Its not about age; its about him swapping twenty years of a happy marriage for an affair with a coworker.
Maybe its my fault, Emma says, eyes reddening. Did I do something wrong? Miss something?
Dont blame yourself! Sarah interjects. Ive seen how you lived these yearseverything for the family, everything for him. You gave up your career when he said a woman should stay at home. You cooked diet meals when the doctor warned about cholesterol. You cancelled a trip to your sisters because he wanted to change the livingroom wallpaper.
But thats normal, Emma whispers. Im his wife; I have to take care of him.
Thats exactly the problemhave to. Youve spent your whole life serving everyone: husband, motherinlaw, society. When did you ever serve yourself?
Emma looks down, never having considered it. Born to a modest family, she married Jamesson of an affluent academic familyearly, hoping for stability. His parents never treated her as an equal. To prove herself, Emily quit music school when her motherinlaw dismissed it as frivolous, took a secretarial job, then abandoned it when James insisted she devote herself entirely to the home.
They never had childrenEmily suffered a miscarriage at three months and was told future pregnancies were unlikely. James was disappointed, dreaming of a son, but eventually accepted it, and Emily tried to fill the void with endless care.
Maybe its for the best, Sarah says, trying to lift the gloom. Time to start living for yourself.
What are you saying? For the best? Emily protests. My life is over!
Dont be ridiculous. Youre fortytwo, still beautiful, with so much ahead. Look at youyouve vanished into him. Wheres the real Emma? The one who sang with goosebumps, dreamed of travel, wanted to help children in care homes?
Emily stays silent. The real Emma is buried somewhere in the past; the past twenty years have been lived for someone else.
Alright, love, Sarah says, standing. Ill stay over tonight. Tomorrow well figure out what comes next. For now, take a shower and have this, she hands over a pill. Itll help you sleep.
Morning brings no relief. Emily feels shattered. Sarah is already bustling in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast, humming cheerfully.
Morning, sleepyhead! Sarah calls, holding a nearly finished omelette. Sit down, lets eat.
I dont want it, Emily shakes her head. I cant even swallow a bite.
Then lets pack a bag and head to my cottage. Fresh air works wonders, and theres plenty to do to keep your mind off things, Sarah suggests.
Ill stay. Maybe James will change his mind and come back, Emily says, weary.
And youll take him back after he dumped you for the first girl he meets? Sarah retorts. Rachel isnt just a fling; he says shes interesting.
So Im boring? Sarah snaps. Hes clueless about interesting people. Hes glued to work, has almost no friends, hobbies are the sofa and TV. Youve guessed his every desire for twenty years, and now hes bored.
Stop it, Emily sighs. James is educated, reads books, attends lectures
Yeah, but does he ever take you with him? Sarah asks.
Never wanted to, Emily admits. I always had house duties.
Even a stew wont cook itself, Sarah jokes. And Rachel apparently can both cook and attend clever lectures.
Emily realizes she may be to blame for becoming uninteresting to James, buried in domestic routine and forgetting selfdevelopment.
Lets go to the cottage, she decides suddenly. Youre right; I need a distraction.
Sarahs cottage is a modest, cosy chalet surrounded by blooming gardens, quiet except for birdsonga perfect place to recuperate.
From dawn till dusk Sarah works the garden; Emily helpsraking, watering, picking berries. The physical labour keeps her mind off James and his betrayal.
One evening on the veranda, sipping tea made with freshly picked blackcurrants, Sarah asks, Do you remember singing at music school? You had a wonderful voice!
Its a thing of the past, Emily waves off.
No, you havent lost it, youve just buried it. James was jealous of your music, Sarah insists.
Ridiculous, Emily says. He thought singing in clubs was unserious. He was rightits not a profession.
But you could have gone professional, Sarah counters. Your teacher said you had huge potential. Remember Mr. Ivanov? He wanted to send you to the conservatory.
What does that have to do with now? Emily asks.
It shows you buried yourself alive for a husband who never appreciated you, Sarah says firmly. You gave up your dreams for someone who didnt value them.
Emily ponders. She had once dreamed of the stage, of music. Then James appeared, and everything changed.
I have an idea, Sarah beams. Lets go to the local club this weekendlive music, karaoke. Well shake things up.
Youre mad, Emily protests. Im almost fortythree, a married womanwell, I was.
Exactlywas. Now youre single, and you have choices. Either sit and sob over a man who left, or start living anew.
The club is noisy and bright, full of youngsters. At first Emily feels out of place, but with a glass of wine and Sarahs encouragement, she loosens up.
Now karaoke! Sarah shouts when the host steps up.
No, I wont, Emily protests.
You will, Sarah insists. Stop hiding.
Before she knows it, Emily is onstage, microphone in hand. The opening lines of Ill Never Forget You flash on the screenonce her favourite song. She starts timidly, then each note grows stronger, her voice filling the room. The audience quiets, listening intently. When she finishes, applause erupts.
Brilliant! someone shouts.
Emily steps down, legs trembling. A middleaged man in jeans and a check shirt approaches.
Exceptional! I havent heard that much talent in ages. Are you a professional singer?
No, Im just a housewife, Emily stammers.
Im Michael, I run the local choir, he says, smiling. Weve got a soloist spot open. Would you consider auditioning?
Emily Clarke, she replies, shaking his hand.
Pleasure, Emily. Think about it. Heres my card, Michael hands her a business card. Ill wait for your call.
Sarah, watching, elbows Emily. See? She wants you! Right, Emma?
Emily hesitates. I dont know I havent sung in years.
You sounded divine, Michael says. Give it a thought. Heres my card again.
The walk home, Sarah cant stop gushing. Did you see the looks? You were brilliant! Michaels a great bloke, too.
Stop, Emily says, blushing. Im not looking for another man.
Why not? Youre free now, Sarah shrugs. Legally youre still married, but he dumped you for someone else. You have every right to start fresh.
A new life Emily turns the card over, feeling a spark she hasnt felt in months. Could she really sing in a choir again? Could she finally pursue the dream she abandoned?
The next morning, Emily wakes with a buzz of excitement she hasnt felt in ages. She calls Michael and arranges a meeting.
The choir is amateur but wellrun, rehearsing three times a week at the community centre. Michael, after a second audition, is thrilled and offers her several solo parts.
You have a fantastic voice, he says. Its a shame you didnt become a professional, but its never too late to change.
Life took a different turn, Emily replies, smiling.
Never too late to change, Michael agrees.
Rehearsals become a breath of fresh air. Emily feels like the young woman who once sang for the sheer joy of it. She also meets new people, all united by a love of music.
A month passes. Emily still hasnt signed the divorce papers, hoping James might return. She tries calling him; he either ignores the phone or speaks coldly. The solicitor has emailed the documents, but she hesitates to sign.
One afternoon, after a rehearsal, Emily finds James standing at her front door. Her heart jumps.
Hey, he says. Can I come in?
Sure, Emily opens quickly. Come in.
James looks around the flat. Did you redecorate?
No, just moved some furniture, put up new curtains, Emily replies. Ive been busychanging the interior, getting rid of clutter.
It looks different, James notes. You havent signed the papers. My solicitor is pressing me.
Emily feels a knot tighten. This isnt a return; its a push for the divorce.
I havent had time, she stammers. Ive been occupied.
Occupied how? James asks, eyebrows raised. You dont work.
I sing in a choir now, Emily says, defiant. Three rehearsals a week, plus performances.
What? You? In a choir?
Yes, and it matters to me. I even have solo parts.
James scoffs. Thats just a hobby, not serious.
Its important to me, Emily replies coldly. Ive got actual gigs now.
James sneers. How long have you been at this?
Almost a month.
And why now?
Sarah got me into it, Emily says, not wanting to explain further. Look, if youre here just for the paperwork, Ill sign and send it to your solicitor.
Actually, I wanted to talk, James says unexpectedly. Can you make me a coffee?
Emily walks to the kitchen, heart pounding. Could he have changed his mind? As she brews coffee, James watches her.
You look different. Slimmer?
A bit, she answers, placing the cup on the table. What did you want to talk about?
James pauses, choosing his words. Things with Rachel arent as smooth as I thought. Shes always out with friends, has her own interests. At home she doesnt cook every day
Emily cant help a faint smile. So now hes complaining about his new partners lack of domestic skills.
And what do you want from me? she asks.
Maybe we could try again? James suggests. I havent filed for divorce yet.
The solicitors papers?
That was just a scare, he waves a hand. Emma, you love me. Twenty years isnt a joke.
Emily looks at him, feeling nothingno joy, no relief, not even anger. Just emptiness.
No, James, she says calmly. Im not trying again.
What? Youre refusing? he looks shocked. You dont understand!
Yes, I understand, Emily replies firmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never appreciated it. You left when you wanted something new, never considering my feelings. Now, when its inconvenient, you come back.
You dont get it! I was wrong! I love you! he cries.
No, James, you dont get it, Emily says, shaking her head. You love the comfort I created. You love being served. You never wanted the real methe one who sings, who wants to learn, whos curious about the world beyond these walls.
James looks at her as if shes mad. Emma, stop. Weve been married twenty years. I messed up, but things will be different now. I promise!
Yes, things will be different, Emily smiles. But not with you. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I have to get to rehearsal.
She stands, ending the conversation.
Youll regret this! James shouts as he walks to the door. You wont belong in that choir! Youll just be a wannabe singer and come back. I wont take you back!
Emily doesnt answer. When the door closes, she stays for a moment, listening to the quiet. It feels light and calm. She walks to the mirror, fixes her hair, brightens her lipstick, and smiles at her reflection.
Lived for him. And it was pointless, she thinks, then heads out to the choir, where new songs and new friends await. Perhaps a new love, tooMichael has been showing a keen interest lately. But thats another story.
