She lived for him. And it was all for nothing.
What do you mean youre leaving? she cried, clutching at the lapel of her husbands coat with such force that the bones in her fingers turned white.
Emily, let go, James said calmly, snapping her hands free. Ive decided, he added, his voice as steady as a metronome. Enough of the drama. You know its over between us.
I dont understand a thing! she shouted, the words spilling into a scream. Just yesterday we were talking about a holiday, about fixing the bathroom! And now youre packing?
The day before, she had been sketching out summer plans. James had nodded, murmuring something indecipherable, then suddenly blurted, Emily, Im off to see Laura. At first she thought shed misheard, then dismissed it as a joke. But his eyes were dead serious.
Whos Laura? Emily managed to choke out.
My colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, James replied, as if he were discussing a new kitchen appliance, not the dismantling of a twentyyear marriage.
Emily sank into the armchair, staring at the man shed shared two decades with, barely recognising him. Where had the shy, gentle, caring Victor vanished? In his place stood a stranger with cold eyes.
That night she lay awake on the kitchen floor, wrapped in an old dressing gown, replaying every day of their life together, hunting for the moment the thread snapped. How had she missed the chill in his voice? How had she not seen the rival approaching?
Now he stood in the hallway with a suitcase, ready to walk out, leaving her bewildered, stunned, crushed.
James, please, lets talk, Emily pleaded, her voice soft now. You cant just toss twenty years away in an instant. Did something happen at work? Do you need time to think?
Nothing to think about, Emily, James said without meeting her eyes, fiddling with the zip on his bag. I love another woman. Being with you is boring. Youre a good housewife, but thats not enough. Laura understands me; shes interesting.
So Im just a cook and a washerwoman? Emilys bitterness overflowed.
I never said that. Dont twist my words, James snapped, his lips tightening. And lets skip the theatrics. Ill call a solicitor, well sort the divorce. Youll keep the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want my family! I want you! she raised her voice again.
Emily, stop. My taxi is waiting downstairs.
He clicked the lock on his suitcase, cast a quick glance around, as if checking hed taken everything, then headed for the door.
James! Emily lunged after him. If you go now, dont ever come back! Hear me? Never!
He turned at the threshold.
Youve always been overly dramatic, Emily. Lets keep the exit quiet. Ill collect the rest of my things next week.
The door slammed. Emily pressed herself against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. The room was emptyno tears, no pain, just a deafening void and baffling bewilderment.
Claire, her best friend, burst in the moment she heard the news. She found Emily sitting in a chair, eyes glazed, photographs scattered, a broken vase lying in shards on the carpet.
Sweetheart, Claire said, pulling Emily into an embrace. Let me make you a cup of tea and you tell me everything.
While the kettle boiled, Claire tidied the mess, gathered the shards, fetched a blanket, and wrapped Emilys trembling shoulders.
So hes left for a younger woman, right? Claire asked once Emily steadied.
Im not sure, Emily shrugged. He called her a colleague. Some Laura.
Classic British drama, Claire sighed. Grey beard, a devil in the details.
Theres no grey at all! James looks fine, Emily retorted. And that woman isnt much younger, I think.
What does it matter? Claire shrugged. The point is your husband swapped twenty years of a happy marriage for a fling with a coworker.
Maybe its my fault, Emily whispered, eyes reddening. Did I do something wrong?
Dont blame yourself! Claire snapped. Ive watched you all these yearsalways for the family, always for him. You never breathed without permission. Wasnt it you who gave up your career when he said a woman belongs at home? Didnt you cook diet meals when the doctor warned about cholesterol? Didnt you skip visiting your sister because he wanted new wallpaper in the sitting room?
But thats normal, Emily murmured. Im his wife; I have to look after him.
Exactlyhave to. A lifetime of have to: husband, motherinlaw, society. What about have to for yourself?
Emilys gaze fell. Shed never considered it. Shed been a pretty girl from a modest family, married early to the ambitious James, whose parents had made it clear they didnt see her as an equal. To prove herself she abandoned music schoolher mother deemed it frivolous and James backed that view. She took a secretarial job at a respectable firm, only to quit when James insisted she devote herself entirely to the home.
They never had childrenEmily suffered a miscarriage at three months, and doctors warned future pregnancies were unlikely. James, disappointed at not having a son, eventually settled for filling the void with endless domestic devotion.
Emily, maybe its for the best, Claire said, breaking the heavy thoughts. Its time you start living for you.
How can you say that? Emily snapped. What best? My life is over!
Nonsense! Youre fortytwo, still beautiful. Look at youyouve dissolved into him. Wheres the real Emily? The one who sang until her skin tingled, who dreamed of traveling, who wanted to help children in care homes?
Emily fell silent. Claire was rightthe real Emily was tucked away in the past. Those twenty years had been lived for someone else.
Alright, Claire said, standing. Ill stay over tonight. Tomorrow well figure out what to do next. But first, take a shower and have this. She handed over a tablet. Itll help you sleep.
Morning brought no relief. Emily felt shattered. Claire was already bustling in the kitchen, humming a jaunty tune while whipping up breakfast.
Good morning, sleepyhead! Claire chirped, placing an omelette on the table. Sit down, have a bite.
I dont want it, Emily shook her head. I cant swallow anything.
Fine, Claire said, turning off the stove. Lets pack a bag and head to my cottage. Fresh air does wonders, and theres plenty to keep you busy.
No, thank you, Emily sighed. Ill stay. Maybe James will change his mind and come back
And youll take him back after he ditched you for a firstdate? Claire retorted. Laura isnt a firstdate, shes a colleague who seems interesting to him.
So Im boring, then? Claire asked, offended. What does he even know about interesting people? Hes glued to his work, has no friends, his hobbies are the sofa and the telly. Youve guessed his every desire for twenty years, and now hes bored?
Stop, Emily winced. James is educated, reads books, attends lectures
Just one lecture, Claire observed. Did he ever take you with him?
I never wanted to, Emily admitted. I was always tied to the house.
Of course, the borscht wont cook itself, Claire quipped. And Laura apparently cooks borscht and attends smart lectures.
Emily exhaled, realizing perhaps she herself bore some blame for becoming uninteresting to James. Shed sunk into routine, forgotten personal growth.
Lets go to the cottage, she declared suddenly. Youre right, a change of scenery might help.
Claires cottage was a tiny, cosy cottage surrounded by blooming gardens, the only sounds being birdsong. It felt like a sanctuary.
From dawn till dusk Claire tended the garden; Emily helpedpulling weeds, watering, picking berries. The physical labour kept her mind off James, his betrayal, his empty words.
One evening, while they sipped tea made from freshly picked blackberries on the veranda, Claire asked, Do you remember singing at music school? You had a voice like a nightingale.
Its all gone now, Emily waved a hand.
No, it isnt, Claire persisted. You buried that talent. James was always jealous of your music.
Thats nonsense, Emily protested. He thought singing in clubs was frivolous, not a profession.
You could have been a professional, Claire insisted. Your tutor said you had huge potential. Remember Mr. Thompson? He wanted to send you to the conservatoire.
What are you getting at? Emily asked.
That you buried yourself alive for a husband who never valued you.
Emilys mind drifted to forgotten dreams of the stage, of a bright future in music, before James arrived and rewrote the script.
I have an idea, Claire said, eyes sparkling. Lets go to the local community club. They have live music on weekends, karaoke. Well shake things up.
Youre mad! Emily gasped. Im almost fortythree, marriedwell, was
Exactly, Claire grinned. Now youre single. You have a choice: keep weeping over a man who left, or start living anew.
The club was loud, neon lights flashing, young people laughing. Emily felt out of place, but Claire coaxed her onto the stage with a glass of wine.
Now karaoke! the MC shouted.
No, I wont, Emily protested.
You will, Claire insisted. Stop hiding.
Before she could object, Emily found herself onstage, microphone in hand. The opening lyrics of a familiar ballad flickered on the screenIll never forget you. She sang tentatively, then louder, the notes gaining strength. The audience fell silent, then erupted in applause when she finished.
A man in his thirties, wearing a checkered shirt, approached.
Brilliant! he exclaimed. Im Michael, I conduct the town choir.
Emily blushed. Im just a housewife.
Dont be ridiculous. With that voice, you could be a soloist. We have a vacancy for a lead singer. Interested?
Claire nudged her. Of course youre interested, love!
Emily hesitated, then took his card. Ill think about it.
Later, back at the cottage, Claire gushed, Did you see how they looked at you? You were stunning! And Michael he seems lovely.
Stop, Emily said, embarrassed. Im not looking for another man.
Why not? Claire teased. Youre technically still married, but he left you for another woman. You have every right to start fresh.
Freshness swirled in Emilys mind like a new melody. She turned the card over, feeling a spark she hadnt felt in years.
The next morning she called Michael, arranging a meeting. He invited her to the community centres choir rehearsals three times a week. The group was amateur but enthusiastic, and soon Emily found herself belting out arias, feeling the music revive the part of her that had been dormant.
Weeks passed. She never signed the divorce papersstill hoping James might return. He called occasionally, but his tone was cold, and the solicitors documents sat untouched in her inbox.
One afternoon, after a rehearsal, Emily opened her front door to find James standing there, suitcase in hand.
Hi, he said, stepping inside. Can I come in?
Of course, Emily replied, her heart fluttering.
He looked around, noticing the new curtains and the rearranged furniture.
Youve redecorated?
Just moved some things, put up new curtains, she said, trying to sound casual. She hadnt been idleshed changed the flats layout, cleared out clutter, made space for herself.
It looks different, James observed. You havent signed the papers. My solicitor is pressing.
Emily felt a tight knot form. This wasnt a return; it was a push for the divorce.
I havent had time, she stammered. Ive been busy.
Busy with what? James raised an eyebrow. You dont work.
I sing in a choir, she replied with a hint of defiance. Three rehearsals a week, plus some gigs.
What? You? In a choir? he looked bewildered. Thats a hobby.
Its important to me, she said, voice steady. I even have solo parts now.
James snorted. Since when?
Almost a month.
And how did you end up there?
Claire helped. She brushed him off. If youre only here for the papers, Ill sign and send them to your solicitor.
You know, I actually wanted to talk, James said suddenly. Maybe we could have coffee?
Emily walked to the kitchen, heart pounding. Could he have changed? She set the kettle going, feeling a strange calm.
What did you want to talk about? she asked, pouring the water.
James stared at her, eyes softening. Laura its not what I thought.
What do you mean? Emily asked quietly.
Shes always out, meeting friends, has her own interests. At home she barely cooks, James complained. Its not the tidy, obedient wife I was used to.
Emily suppressed a smile. So now the problem was Lauras independence.
What do you expect from me? she asked.
Maybe we could try again? James suggested. I havent filed for divorce.
The solicitors papers?
That was just a scare, he waved his hand. Emily, you love me. Twenty years thats not a joke.
Emily looked at him, feeling nothingno love, no anger, no pity.
No, James, she said evenly. I wont try again.
What? Youre refusing?
Yes, she replied firmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never valued it. You left when you wanted something new, never considering my feelings. Now that its inconvenient, you return.
You dont understand! James shouted. I made a mistake! I love you!
No, James, you dont understand, Emily said, shaking her head. You love comfort, the service you got from me. You never wanted the real me.
What are you talking about? James asked, confused. What real me?
The Emily who loves to sing, who wants to learn, who craves the world beyond this flat.
James stared at her as if she were mad.
Emily, stop. Youre my wife, twenty years together. I was a fool, but things will be different now. I promise!
Youre right, things will be different, Emily smiled. But not with you. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I have to get ready for rehearsal.
She stood, signaling the end of the conversation.
Youll regret this! James shouted as he headed for the door. Youll never belong in that choir! Youll just be a singer for show and then come back to me. I wont take you back!
Emily didnt answer. When the door shut, she lingered, listening to the quiet. It felt light, calm. She walked to the mirror, fixed her hair, dabbed a touch of lipstick, and smiled at her reflection.
Lived for him. And it was all for nothing, she thought, then gathered her bag and left for the choir, where new songs and fresh friends awaited. Perhaps a new love would blossomMichael had already shown a keen interest. But that was a story for another night.
