13May
I could hear Davids laugh echoing down the hallway as he threw me out of the flat, Youre an orphan, wholl look after you? Hed always had that smug tone.
Wheres the £70 you gave me yesterday? he barked, storming into the kitchen, his face flushed with anger.
I was at the stove, flipping the mince pies that were sizzling in the pan. The fat was spitting in tiny droplets.
What money? I asked, trying to keep my voice even. You never gave me anything.
Dont lie! Five pounds for groceries! I left it on the bedside table!
David, I didnt take any money. Maybe youve moved it somewhere else.
Ive looked everywhere! Its gone! You must have spent it on your own things!
I turned the hob off and wiped my hands on the apron. Four years of marriage had taught me to brace for these accusations, but each one still cut deep.
David, I didnt take your cash. I have my own wages, why would I steal?
Wages? he sneered. Your pocketchange from the shop? Thats not a salary, its an allowance!
At that moment my motherinlaw, Eleanor, stepped into the doorway. Shed moved in with us six months ago after selling her house, saying shed invest the proceeds in her sons business, though Davids only job was a site manager for a construction firm.
Whats all this shouting about? she asked, scanning the kitchen. Another argument?
Mom, she stole my money! The £70!
I didnt take anything, Olivia whispered.
Eleanor moved closer, appraising me from head to toe.
David didnt give me any cash yesterday. He handed it to me for safekeeping because, dear, youre hopeless with money. Youd squander it all.
A wave of helplessness washed over me. Again it seemed the whole world conspired against me.
If you took the money, just say it. Why pin this on me?
Youre calling my mother a thief? David snapped.
I never said that. I just want to sort this out.
Theres nothing to sort, Eleanor replied, pulling a few crisp notes from her cardigan. Heres the money. I took it so you wouldnt waste it on rubbish. David, take it and buy yourself a decent shirt, lest you go to work in tatters.
David slipped the cash into his pocket without even looking at me.
Thanks, Mum. You always look after me.
I stood in stunned silence, the sting of betrayal simmering inside. In this house, any sign of emotion turned back on the person who showed it.
The mince pies are burning, Eleanor muttered. Everythings falling apart under your watch, dear.
I turned the patties, letting the burnt side cool, breathing slowly, refusing to let the tears break through.
Four years ago everything had been different. David had courted me with flowers, took me out for tea at the local café, and Id been a shop assistant at the corner supermarket, no qualifications, no connections. Id grown up in a childrens home, then a council flat after I left, working my way up. Life was hard, but it was mine.
Then David appearedhandsome, confident, steady job. Hed noticed me while stocktaking, started teasing, inviting me out. I could hardly believe my luck: a man like him, and I, a girl from a care home with no family.
Our wedding was modest. Only a flatmate from the council flat as my witness, and Davids mother, a few relatives, and a few friends. Eleanor kept her disapproval hidden behind a thin smile.
After we moved into a twobedroom flat in a Manchester suburb, I kept working, managing the household, trying to be a good wife. Gradually, small criticisms crept in: the soup too salty, the shirt not ironed properly, the money not allocated correctly. Accusations followedspending too much, dressing poorly, being uneducated.
When Eleanor moved in, everything turned worse. She took on the role of the households matriarch, nitpicking every move I made, steering David against me. He always listened to his mother, never to me.
Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, I announced, setting the table.
Finally, David said, slumping into his chair, phone in hand. Im starving.
Eleanor inspected the spread.
The salad is watery, and theres barely any bread. Saving money on food now?
I bought exactly what we need for the week, according to the list you both compiled.
Dont argue with your elders. Young people today have no respect.
Dinner passed in a tense hush. David chewed in silence, Eleanor sighed in disapproval, and I barely touched my plate.
Afterward I washed the dishes while David and his mother lounged in the living room, laughing at the TV. I felt like a servant made to live under their roof.
That night David went to bed without a goodnight, leaving me staring at the darkness. When had I become so unhappy? When did I stop being a beloved wife and become a burden?
Morning arrived before anyone else. I prepared breakfast, packed Davids lunch, and he left muttering something unintelligible.
Olivia, we need to talk, Eleanor said as I finished my tea.
I set down the cup.
You see, this flat is too cramped for three. We need more space.
Yes, but we cant afford a bigger place yet.
Thats why we think you should move out for a while. Find a room, you have a salary after all.
This is my husbands flat. Im his wife.
Wife? Eleanor smiled coldly. What kind of wife? You cant have children, youre useless around the house, youre not pretty. David could do better.
David chose me.
He made a mistake, as people do. Mistakes must be fixed.
Youre suggesting I leave him?
Im suggesting you make his life easier. No divorce, just a temporary split. Maybe thatll work.
My hands trembled as I rose.
Ill speak to David.
Talk, but only if he agrees. Its his idea.
All day at work the thought haunted me. Did he really want me gone? Did four years mean nothing?
That evening I got home early. David was already there with his mother, sipping tea.
David, I need to talk, just us.
Speak in front of mum, she knows everything.
Its about us.
He sighed, went to the bedroom, and I followed, closing the door behind us.
Your mother said you want me out. Is that true?
He turned to the window.
Yes. We need space. Mums here, Im uncomfortable, and youre just taking up room.
Im your wife!
Wife who hasnt given me a child in four years, who earns pocketchange as a shop assistant. What use are you?
David, the doctors said the problem isnt me. Its you
Silence! he snapped, eyes flashing. Its your background, your orphanage! Who knows whats in your bloodline!
My parents died in a crash when I was three. Im a normal, healthy person!
Normal, he smirked. No family, no roots. I married a fool, regretted taking an orphan.
Tears welled but I swallowed them.
So you want a divorce?
I want you out. Just out, for now. Then well see.
Where am I supposed to go?
I dont know. Back to the council flat, rent a roomyour problem.
I love you, we can try again
Its too late, Olivia. Pack your things.
When?
Tomorrow. You have the evening to collect everything.
He left, the flat suddenly cold. I sat on the bed where wed slept for four years, dreaming of children, a happy home, a future that now lay shattered.
I began stuffing clothes into a suitcase, grabbing documents, a few pounds Id hidden, some photos, a couple of books. How much was really mine? Almost nothing.
Eleanor peeked in.
Smart girl. Youve finally got it.
I dont want any drama, I whispered, continuing to pack.
Exactly. Slip out quietly, and David will find someone proper, from a respectable family.
I said nothing. The matriarch had always deemed me unworthy.
In the early dawn I slipped the keys onto the kitchen table, paused at the door, and looked back at the flat that had been my world for four years. It would never feel like home again.
I descended the stairs, out into the quiet street, the sky just lightening. My council flat was now occupied; finding a new room meant money I barely hadonly a few pounds left.
I went to work early, hoping the shift would give me time to think. The shop was warm and quiet. I sat in the staff room, bags at my feet, wanting to cry but the tears wouldnt comejust an emptiness.
Olivia? Up early? Veronica, the store manager, asked, a firm yet kind woman in her fifties.
Just couldnt sleep.
She eyed my bags.
Whats wrong?
Its nothing.
She leaned in.
Ive known you four years. I can see when youre lying. Tell me.
So I told her everythingDavid, Eleanor, being thrown out. She listened, shaking her head.
Those bastards, she said, profanity softened by a sigh. You need a place to stay.
I cant afford anything.
My daughter moved to Leeds; her flat is empty. Stay with me for a bit, sort things out.
Veronica I cant
No, you can. Im not your boss, Im just Veronica.
I finally broke down, the tears finally spilling. Someone was on my side.
The next day Veronica drove me to her modest twobedroom flat on the outskirts. The spare room was tiny, with a narrow bed, a small desk, and a wardrobe.
Make yourself at home. The beds fresh, I changed the sheets yesterday. If you need anything, just ask.
Thank you, I dont even know how to thank you enough.
She smiled. We all need a hand once. I was helped once too.
That evening a strange call came. Olivia? This is Tamara, Eleanors sister.
What do you want?
I heard you were thrown out. Im against what shes done. If you need help, let me know.
I appreciate it, but
Its not about money. I was once tossed out by my own husband. I understand.
We talked for a long time, her story giving me strength.
Within a week I found a room in a shared house. The landlady, Mrs. Jenkins, was a kindly older lady.
Live peacefully, love. Keep it tidy, keep it quiet.
I settled in, hanging pictures, arranging books. It was small, modest, but finally my own space, free from ridicule.
David texted about the divorce papers. I signed everything without demanding anything. I just wanted the chapter closed.
Three months passed. I fell into a new routinework, my little flat, occasional tea with Veronica and the other shop mates. Life was quiet, safe, and free of the constant accusations.
One afternoon a man in his forties entered the shop, tall, spectacles, a kind face. He lingered at the tills, asking me for advice on groceries. He returned several times, each time with a smile.
Do you always help customers so attentively? he asked one day.
I try my best. Thats my job.
Hes rare, you know, someone who genuinely cares.
His name was Michael, a teacher at the local primary school, recently divorced and living alone. We started chatting, eventually meeting for tea.
I dont know, I said, shyly. Ive just been through a divorce.
No pressure. Lets just talk.
Our meetings became a steady source of warmth. He never pried into my past, just listened.
One evening he said, Youre strong, Olivia. Youve survived betrayal, being kicked out, a divorce, and you built a new life.
I dont feel strong.
You are. Thats strength.
Seeing his sincere eyes, I finally allowed myself to believe it.
A few weeks later I ran into David on the street. He was with Lena, his new girlfriend, who was visibly pregnant.
Hey, hows life treating you? he sneered.
Fine. Happy.
Hes probably living in a council flat now, huh? I replied calmly.
Lena tugged his sleeve. Lets go, David.
They walked off, and for once I felt nothing but indifference.
Later that night Michael and I strolled through the park, watching the sunset.
I ran into my ex today, I said.
And? he asked.
No feelings left.
Thats good. Youve let go.
He took my hand. Olivia, you should know something. It doesnt matter that you grew up in an orphanage, or that you have no family. What matters is who you are. Youre kind, honest, resilient.
Strong? I laughed. I dont feel strong.
You are. Youve endured pain, youve rebuilt. Thats strength.
His words settled over me like a warm blanket.
I realized I wasnt alone. Eleanor may have tried to crush me, but Veronica, Tamara, Michael, Mrs. Jenkins, and even the shop mates had stood up for me. True family isnt about blood; its about those who stay by your side when you need them most.
I may have no parents, no siblings, but I now have a circle of people who have become my family. And that is enough.
