She had lived for him. And it was all for nothing.
What do you mean youre leaving? After twenty years of marriage? After everything weve built? Emily clutched her husbands jacket sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white.
Emily, let go. Ive made up my mind, Victor said calmly, pulling her hands away. Enough of the drama. You know its over between us.
I dont understand! Yesterday we were talking about a holiday, about fixing the bathroom! And now youre packing? Emilys voice broke into a scream.
The day before, she had been making summer plans. Victor nodded, muttering something vague, then suddenly blurted, Emily, Im leaving for Laura. At first she thought shed misheard. Then she hoped it was a joke, but Victor was dead serious.
Whos Laura? Emily managed to sputter.
A colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, Victor replied as if he were discussing a new television set, not the collapse of a marriage.
Emily sank into the armchair, looking at the man shed shared two decades with, feeling she no longer recognised him. Where had the shy, gentle, caring Victor gone? In his place stood a stranger with cold eyes.
That night she lay awake in the kitchen, wrapped in an old dressing gown, replaying every day of their life together, trying to spot the moment when things went wrong. How had she missed his cooling affection? How had she not noticed the newcomer?
Now he stood in the hallway with a travel bag, ready to walk out, leaving her stunned, deafened, crushed.
Victor, please, lets talk, Emily begged, no longer shouting. You cant just toss twenty years away in one instant. Did something happen at work? Do you need time to think?
Theres nothing to think about, Emily, Victor said without looking at her, fiddling with the zip on his bag. I love another woman. Im bored with you. Youre a good housekeeper, but thats not enough. Laura understands me, shes exciting.
So Im just a cook and a laundress? Emilys bitterness spilled over.
I never said that. Dont twist my words, Victor snapped, pressing his lips together. Lets skip the theatrics. Ill call a solicitor, well arrange a divorce. You can keep the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want a family! I want you! she raised her voice again.
Emily, stop. My taxi is waiting downstairs.
He clicked the lock on his bag, glanced around to make sure he hadnt forgotten anything, and headed for the door.
Victor! Emily lunged after him. If you walk out now, dont ever come back! Hear me? Never!
He turned at the threshold:
Youve always been far too dramatic, Emily. No need for grand speeches. Ill collect the rest of my things next week.
The door slammed. Emily leaned against the wall, then sank slowly onto the floor. The room was empty. No tears, no painjust a deafening void and bewilderment.
Lydia, Emilys best friend, burst in as soon as she heard the news. She found Emily sitting in a chair, eyes vacant, photographs scattered, a vase shattered on the floor.
Love, Lydia wrapped her arms around Emily. Let me make you a cup of tea and you can tell me everything.
While the kettle boiled, Lydia tidied up, gathered the broken pieces, fetched a blanket and wrapped Emilys shivering shoulders.
Hes gone to a younger woman, right? Lydia asked once Emily steadied herself.
I dont even know, Emily shrugged. He called her a colleague. Some Laura.
Classic betrayal, Lydia sighed. Grey hairs, a devil on his shoulder.
He doesnt look grey at all! Victor still looks handsome, Emily protested. And that woman cant be that much younger than us.
Does it matter? Lydia snapped. What matters is that your husband swapped twenty years of a happy marriage for a fling with a coworker.
Maybe its my fault? Emilys eyes reddened. Did I do something wrong, miss something?
Dont blame yourself! Lydia interrupted. Ive seen how you lived all these years: everything for the family, everything for him. You never breathed without his permission. Didnt you give up a career when he said a womans place was the home? Didnt you prepare lowfat meals when the doctor warned about cholesterol? Didnt you cancel a visit to your sister because he wanted new wallpaper?
But thats normal, Emily whispered. Im his wife; Im supposed to care
Exactly supposed to Lydia shook her head. All your life youve been supposed to someone: husband, motherinlaw, society. What about yourself? Have you ever been supposed to you?
Emily lowered her gaze. She had never thought about that. A pretty girl from a modest background, shed married Victor, the son of an affluent academic family, early on. His parents had made it clear they didnt see her as an equal. To prove herself, she tried to be the perfect spouse. She quit music school because her motherinlaw thought it frivolous, and Victor backed that decision. She took a secretarial job at a respectable firm, but gave it up when Victor decided she should devote herself entirely to the home.
They never had childrenEmily suffered a miscarriage at three months, and later doctors said the chances of a successful pregnancy were slim. Victor was disappointed; he had dreamed of a son. He eventually accepted it, while Emily tried to fill the void with endless caring.
You know, Emily, maybe this is a blessing, Lydia said, breaking the heavy silence. Its time you start living for yourself.
How can you say that? Emily snapped. For the best? My life is over!
Nonsense! Lydia retorted. Youre fortytwo, still beautiful, with a whole life ahead. Look at youyouve lost yourself in him. Wheres the real Emily? The one who sang until her skin tingled, who dreamed of travel, who wanted to help children in care homes?
Emily fell silent. Lydia was right; the real Emily lived in the past. Those twenty years had been spent in someone elses shadow.
Alright, Lydia stood up. Ill stay the night. Tomorrow well figure out what to do next. For now, take a shower and have this, she handed Emily a tablet, itll help you sleep.
Morning brought no relief. Emily felt broken. Lydia was bustling in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast and humming.
Good morning, sleepyhead! Lydia chirped, spotting Emily. Omelettes almost ready. Sit down, lets eat.
I dont want to, Emily shook her head. I cant swallow a bite.
You know what, Lydia declared, switching off the stove, lets pack a bag and head to my cottage. Fresh air does wonders, and theres plenty to keep you busy.
No, thanks, Lydia, Emily replied wearily. Ill stay. Maybe Victor will change his mind and come back
And youd take him back after he dumped you for another woman? Lydia shot back.
Laura isnt just any woman, Emily muttered. He says shes interesting.
So youre boring, then? Lydia scoffed. He doesnt even know what an interesting person is. Hes glued to his work, has almost no friends, his hobbies are the sofa and the telly. You guessed his every wish for twenty years and now hes bored!
Stop it, Emily winced. Victor is educated, reads books, attends lectures
He attends, Lydia noted. Does he ever take you with him?
I never wanted to, Emily admitted. I was always tied to the house.
Of course the stew wont cook itself, Lydia retorted. And Laura probably whips up stew while attending smart lectures.
Emily sighed. Perhaps Lydia was right; maybe shed become uninteresting to Victor by sinking into domestic routine and neglecting her own growth.
Lets go to the cottage, she decided suddenly. Youre right, I need a distraction.
Lydias cottage was a perfect spot to recuperate: a cosy little house, a garden bursting with flowers, the only sounds being birdsong. The peace invited reflection.
From sunrise to sunset Lydia tended the garden, and Emily helped weeding, watering, picking berries. The physical labour kept her mind off Victor and his betrayal.
One evening, seated on the veranda with tea made from freshly picked blackberries, Lydia asked:
Do you remember singing at music school? You had such a voice!
That was long ago, Emily waved her hand.
No, you didnt lose it, you buried it, Lydia persisted. Victor was always jealous of your music.
Nonsense, Emily replied. He thought singing in clubs was frivolous, not a profession.
You could have been a professional, Lydia insisted. Your teacher, Mr. Spencer, said you had immense potential. Remember him? He wanted to send you to the conservatoire.
Why bring it up now?
Because you buried yourself alive for a husband who never valued you.
Emily thought of the dream she once had of a stage, of a future in music that had been smothered when Victor arrived.
I have an idea, Lydias eyes lit up. Theres a local community centre with a weekend livemusic night, karaoke. Lets go.
Are you mad? Emily balked. Im nearly fortythree, married well, I was married.
Exactly, Lydia grinned. Now youre single and you have a choice: keep crying over a man who left, or start living anew.
The club was noisy and bright. Emily felt out of place amid the flashing lights and youthful crowd, but a glass of wine and Lydias encouragement eased her nerves.
Karaoke time! the host announced.
No, I wont, Emily protested.
You will, Lydia declared, firm. Stop hiding.
Before she could object, Emily found herself on stage, microphone in hand. The opening lyrics of Ill Never Forget You appeared on the screen, a song shed loved in her youth. She sang quietly at first, then her voice grew steadier, richer. The audience fell silent, listening, then burst into applause when she finished.
A man in his thirties, wearing a plaid shirt, approached her.
Brilliant! he said. I havent heard a performance like that in ages. Are you a professional singer?
No, Im just a housewife, Emily stammered.
I dont believe that, he chuckled. Im Michael, conductor of the town choir.
Michael, she shook his hand. Nice to meet you.
Listen, we have a soloist vacancy in the choir. Would you consider auditioning?
Lydia nudged her excitedly:
Of course youll say yes! Right, Emily?
Emily hesitated.
I havent sung in years
You were magnificent, Michael replied. Heres my card. Call me.
The walk home was a blur of exhilaration. The next morning Emily felt a strange lightness, a spark she hadnt felt in months. She phoned Michael and arranged a meeting.
The choir was amateur but talented, rehearsing three times a week at the community hall. Michael, after hearing her again, offered her several solo parts.
You have a wonderful voice, he said. Its a shame you never pursued it professionally.
Life took a different route, Emily replied.
Its never too late to change, Michael smiled.
Rehearsals became a breath of fresh air. Emily rediscovered the joy of music and the pleasure of meeting new people who shared her passion.
A month passed. She still hadnt signed the divorce papers, hoping Victor might return. She tried calling him; he either didnt answer or spoke coldly. The solicitors email sat unread.
One afternoon, after rehearsal, Victor stood at her doorstep.
Hello, he said. May I come in?
Of course, Emily opened the door quickly. Come in.
Victor looked around.
Youve redecorated?
Ive just moved some furniture, put up new curtains, Emily shrugged. I havent been idle.
It looksdifferent, he noted. You havent signed the papers yet. My solicitor is pressing.
Emily felt a knot tighten.
I havent had time, she stammered. Ive been busy.
Busy with what? Victor asked, eyebrows raised. Youre not working.
I sing in a choir, Emily replied, a hint of defiance in her voice. Three rehearsals a week, plus occasional performances.
What? Victor seemed shocked. You, in a choir?
Yes, I am. She grew louder. He always said I loved to sing.
Thats just a hobby, not serious, Victor sneered.
It matters to me, Emily said coolly. I even have solo parts now.
Victor smirked.
How long have you been at this?
Almost a month.
And how did you get into it?
Lydia helped, Emily replied, not wanting to go into details. If youre only here for the papers, I wont keep you. Ill sign and send them to your solicitor.
Actually, I wanted to talk, Victor said suddenly. Maybe you could make me a coffee?
Emily headed to the kitchen, heart pounding. Could he have changed his mind? She brewed a coffee while he sat at the table, watching her.
Youve changed, havent you? Lost some weight?
A little, she said, placing the cup before him. What did you want to discuss?
Victor paused, choosing his words.
Things with Laura arent as smooth as I thought. Shes always out with friends, has her own interests. At home, theres mess, she doesnt cook every day
Emily barely suppressed a smile.
So?
Im thinking maybe we could try again. I havent filed the divorce
And the solicitors letters?
Just a scare tactic, he waved his hand. You love me, right? Twenty years isnt a joke.
Emily stared at him, feeling nothingno joy, no anger, just emptiness.
No, Victor, she said calmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never valued that. You left when you wanted something new, never considering my feelings. Now that its inconvenient for you, you want to come back.
You dont understand! he shouted. I made a mistake! I love you!
No, you dont understand, Emily replied. You love the comfort I provided, not the real me. You never wanted to know the true Emily who sings, learns, and craves the world beyond this flat.
Victor stared at her as if she were mad.
What do you mean, real you?
The one who loves to sing, who wants to study, who is curious about life outside these walls.
Victors face fell.
Emily, stop. Youre my wife, weve been together twenty years. Yes, I was foolish, but Ill change now, I promise!
Youre right, everything will be different, Emily smiled, but not for him. Not with you. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I have to get to rehearsals.
Victor lunged toward the door.
Youll regret this! Youll never belong in that choir! Youll end up back here, begging!
Emily didnt answer. When the door shut, she stood in silence, feeling a lightness shed never known. She walked to the mirror, fixed her hair, applied a touch of colour to her lips, and smiled at her reflection.
Lived for him. And it was all for nothing, she thought, then turned and headed out to her choir, where new songs and new friends awaited. Perhaps a new love would appearMichael had already shown interestbut that was a story for another day.
The hardest lesson she learned was this: you cannot build your life on someone elses expectations; true fulfillment comes from honoring the dreams that belong to you alone.
