Veronica Clarke had just thrown her husbands mum out of the front door when they turned up to make peace.
Mrs. Clarke, you realise weve been getting complaints about you? Thats the third one this month! You cant keep working like that!
Veronica stood in the matrons office, fists clenched, cheeks hot, a lump lodged in her throat.
Im doing everything by the book, Marion Brooks, she snapped. That Mrs. Krichova nitpicks every little thing. Shes got a temperament that makes her dissatisfied with everyone.
Temperament or not, you must speak to patients politely. Youre a nurse, not
Not what? Veronica cut in, sharper than intended. Not a sextoy who has to put up with rudeness?
The matron sighed, pushed back her glasses and rubbed her bridge of the nose.
Veronica, I know youre going through a rough patch. Divorces are always hard. But a job is a job. Take some leave, get a break. Im not sure how much longer I can protect you.
Veronica left the office, tears barely held back. A break will solve everything, she thought, though the wound from Ians departure six months ago still festered. Each day felt like a test: work, empty flat, echoing footsteps.
In the oncall room, her only confidante, Lucy, waited.
Got yourself another mess? Lucy asked sympathetically.
The matron suggested I take a holiday. Said Im on the brink.
Maybe you really should. Get away somewhere, clear the head.
Veronica shook her head.
Whats the point? Ians alimony is a pittance, and his mother, Nina, has slipped some dubious paperwork onto me. She claims his income is tiny and that the flat is in her name.
Shameful, Lucy muttered. I told you not to sign those papers.
I thought we were a family. I never imagined he could act like that.
Veronica poured herself tea from a thermos, sank onto a battered chair, hands trembling. She was exhaustedby the job, the thoughts, the relentless ache in her chest.
Lucy, have I really turned into a monster? she asked.
Lucy leaned in, hand on her shoulder.
Youre just defending yourself. After twenty years with a man who walks out for a younger, childfree lad, anyone would get angry.
Its not that I want to be angry, Veronica burst, tears streaming. I just want a normal life, without this constant pain.
That evening she trudged home on foot, saving on the bus fare. October was cold and drizzly; wet leaves stuck to her shoes, the wind snuck under her coat collar. She stared at the pavement, lost in thought.
When Ian left, it felt like a nightmare you never woke from. Hed come home, hang his coat, ask what was for dinner, swap stories about the day. Ordinary, predictable.
Instead, his mother Nina appeared with a stack of papers and a frosty expression. Ian needs his own space, she said, Youve smothered him with care, the marriage is dead. Veronica listened, barely recognising the woman shed once called motherinlaw.
The flat is in my name, thats my property, Nina declared, tapping the table. But Im not evicting you. Stay until you sort yourself out.
Veronica whispered, Ive lived here twenty years. Ian and I renovated, bought furniture
The furniture was on my money, Nina interjected. Remember, Ian is my son. Ill always side with him.
Silence fell. Veronica packed a few belongings and moved into a council flat on the citys edgea cramped, dim room with a neighbour who was a chronic drinker and a communal kitchen that always smelled of cats. It was her space now, and no one could claim she didnt belong.
Outside the block, a familiar black sedan sat by the entrance. Ians car from six months ago. She wondered why it was there.
Ascending the stairs, she heard voices. On the landing, Ian and Nina stood, arms gesturing, Ian nodding.
Veronica! Ian called, spotting her first. Finally! Weve been waiting an hour.
She fumbled for her keys, but Nina blocked the doorway.
Hold on, we need to talk.
Theres nothing to discuss, Veronica tried to keep her voice steady. Please, just let us pass.
Dont be like that, Veronica, Ian stepped closer, looking exhausted, eyes puffy, cheeks hollow. We came to make up.
Veronica froze. Make up? she repeated, bewildered.
Yes, Ive realised my mistake, Nina cooed, honeyvoicing. Your little fling turned out to be a mercenary. Hes remorseful and wants to come back.
Come back? Veronica echoed, the words bouncing around her mind.
Exactly, home. After twenty years together, we cant just toss it all away.
Ian extended his hand, but Veronica stepped back.
Lets go inside and talk properly. Ill explain everything.
Explain what? Veronicas anger boiled. What you told me you loved her, that you left in the night, that your mother threw me out of the flat I poured my heart into?
Veronica, dont start, Nina snapped. Were here with good intentions.
Good intentions? Veronica laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. Youre here because your son is lonely, because the girl he chased turned out to be smarter than me. You expect me to welcome him back?
I never said that, Ian began, but Veronica cut him off.
Six months ago you told me I suffocated you, that theres no love left, that you need space. And you were right.
No, I. Ian stammered.
I truly suffocated you, Veronica continued, voice steady now. I ironed your shirts for thirtyfive years, cooked your favourite meals, endured your mothers meddling, gave up my career because you wanted a housewife, never had children because it never happened, and took your mothers insults on the chin. All that for what? To be told sorry? Thats not enough.
Nina huffed. Enough, Veronica, enough. Hes apologising. Isnt that enough?
No, Veronica said, meeting Ninas eyes. What Ive learned in these six months is that for the first time in twenty years I live for myself. Yes, its hard. Yes, Im in a council flat and money is tight. But this is my life, and no one can tell me its wrong.
Ill stay, but please, can we at least sit down? Ian asked, glancing at the hallway where neighbours footsteps echoed.
Neighbours? Veronica smirked. For you theyre strangers. For me theyre the people who actually respect me, more than you and your mother ever did.
Enough! Nina shouted, standing up. Im your motherinlaw!
A motherinlaw doesnt kick a woman out of her roof, doesnt strip her of a home she cared for twenty years, Veronica retorted calmly. The flat is in your name on paper, but not on conscience.
Nina fumed, The law is the law.
Veronica nodded. Youre right, the law is the law. Im not asking for the flat, money, or apologies. I just want you to leave and never appear in my life again.
Igor, wait, Ian grabbed her wrist. Im truly sorry. I was a fool. That Kristina
Whatever you call her, I dont care, Veronica snapped, pulling her hand free. I dont care at all.
She turned to the door, key in lock, hands no longer shaking. A strange calm settled over her, a peace she hadnt felt in months.
Come on, mum, tell him! Nina shoved her sons shoulder. Dont just stand there like a statue!
Im not waiting in traffic for an obstinate woman to throw me out again, she muttered. Men like my Ian are hard to find.
She glanced at Ninas painted face, her expensive coat, the way she commanded her son. Then at Ian, head bowed like a guilty schoolboy.
Youre right, Nina, Veronica said softly. Men like him are scarce. Thats why Im done hunting for them.
Nina roared, Youll regret it, youll be alone at thirtyfour, youll waste your life!
Maybe, Veronica shrugged. But better alone than with someone who never valued me.
She opened the door and stepped out, pausing for a final look.
Igor, I wish you happiness, truly. But not with me.
He called after her, Veronica, wait
She closed the door, leaned against it, eyes closed, the muffled voices behind her, the clatter of an elevator.
She walked into her tiny flat, slipped off her shoes, collapsed onto the bed. Silence wrapped around her, but it felt comforting, not terrifying.
The phone buzzed. It was Lucy.
Hows it going? Handled Krichova?
Veronica smiled, typing back, Handled her. And more.
She rose, walked to the window. Night had fallen, streetlights flickering, the city humming. Cars whizzed by, people hurried home. She was part of this bustling town, not anyones wife or daughterinlaw, just Veronica.
Morning found her waking to a sliver of sunlight through thin curtains. The first thought was whether yesterday had been a dream. Noit was real. Ian and his mother had stood at her door, begging for reconciliation, and shed turned them away.
She did a quick workout, a habit shed picked up over the past six months: morning jogs, a local yoga class at the community centrenot to impress anyone, just because she finally had time for herself.
At work, Lucy noticed a change.
Youre glowing, she said. What happened?
Igor showed up with his mother, wanted to make up, Veronica replied. I sent them off in a very polite, but firm, manner.
Lucy whistled. Bravo. Im proud of you.
Veronica thought for a moment. I spent the night awake, realised Id spent twenty years living in his shadow. I forgot who Veronica is, what she loves, what she wants.
What do you want now? Lucy asked.
Im not sure yet. I just know I dont want to go back to what was. It feels like breaking out of a cagescary at first, odd, then you realise you can actually fly.
Lucy smiled. Beautifully said. And if he comes round again?
He wont. I saw his face; he expected me to throw myself at his feet. Hes lost.
The next day, Veronica visited the matrons office.
Marion Brooks, about that leave, she said. Maybe a week would do.
Of course, Veronica. Where to?
To my sisters in the countryside. Its been ages.
Her sister, Gail, lived in a small village three hours north of Manchester. A simple cottage, cosy, smelling of freshly baked scones and apples. A ginger tomcat named Marmalade lounged on the hearth.
Gail greeted her with a hug.
Veronica, love, come in, come in!
The house was modest but warm.
You look thinner, a bit paler, Gail noted, pouring tea.
Yes, Veronica replied shortly.
Good! I always said that Ian wasnt right for you. Hes just a a ragdoll, isnt he?
Gail!
Honestly, you spent twenty years catering to him and his mother. They kicked you out when a new lover showed up.
Veronica laughed. Whats the funniest part? Yesterday they turned up to make peace. The girl he left me for had dumped him, so he thought he could crawl back.
Did you send them packing? Gail asked, eyes twinkling.
Exactly that.
Gail nodded approvingly. Now live for yourself. Youre still young, still beautiful. Lifes ahead.
I’m thirtyfour, Gail. Does life end at thirtyfour?
Never! My neighbour is fiftyeight, got married last year to a widower. Shes thriving.
Veronica spent ten days at the cottage, strolling through woods, picking mushrooms, helping with the garden. Gail never probed about the past, just kept her company.
One evening they sat on the porch, sipping honeyed tea as the sun set, painting the sky pink.
What about moving here permanently? Gail asked suddenly.
To the village? Why?
Its quieter. My house is big enough, theres a community clinic that needs nurses. Pays lower than the city, but you wont have the daily stress.
Veronica thought. The village meant peace, no constant reminders of Ian.
What would I be giving up? My council flat? My job where Im barely respected?
Gail smiled. What are you giving up? A flat that feels more like a prison? A job where youre constantly hounded by Krichova?
Veronica returned to the city, fatigue crashing over her like a grey sky over dirty streets. The council flat greeted her with mouldy air and a neighbour shouting about the rent. Work was unchanged: Krichovas complaints, Marions sighs, Lucys cheerful greetings.
During lunch, Lucy asked, Thinking about moving to Gails?
Yes.
Will you go?
Not sure. It could be running away, or it could be starting anew. I need to decide.
Lucy paused. Whatever you choose, Ill support you.
A week later, on her way home, Veronica spotted Ian outside a shop window, arminarm with a young woman she didnt know. They laughed, chatting away.
She stopped dead. Six months had passed since that stairwell showdown, and here he was, already with someone else. She felt a sudden, absurd burst of laughter. Passersby stared, but she just laughed, because at last she understood: she didnt need that life, those people, that hurt.
The next morning she handed in her resignation.
Are you sure? Lucy asked, eyebrows raised.
Absolutely. Im heading to Gails. Starting fresh.
What about the flat? Your stuff?
Just a few things. Ill give away the rest or toss it.
Lucy hugged her. Ill miss you. Promise youll call.
I promise.
Packing took a week. Two suitcases and a bag held everything she owned.
On her last walk through the city, she stopped in the park where she and Ian once strolled, lingered by the house they never truly made a home in.
On the bus, she watched the familiar streets blur past, the city receding behind her. She wasnt scared; for the first time in years she felt unafraid.
At the coach station, Gail waited.
Here for good? she asked.
Here for good, Veronica replied, finally smiling truly, without bitterness.
Life in the village wasnt easy, but Veronica never regretted the choice. She secured a nursing post at the local health centre, bought a modest cottage near Gails, and evenings were spent on the porch with tea and endless chatter.
Sometimes she recalled the day she had shut the door on Ian and his mother. She remembered her trembling hands, the fear of being alone. Now she knew that moment had sparked her real lifeone where she was the heroine of her own story.
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