“It was a house down in a cramped northLondon estate, and I still hear the clatter of that night as if it were yesterday.
Youre a ward of the state, who will defend you? my husband sneered, shoving me out of the doorway.
Wheres the money I handed you yesterday? Daniel stormed into the kitchen, his face flushed with anger.
Emily turned from the stove, where the mince pies were sizzling, the fat hissing on the hot pan.
What money? You never gave me anything.
Dont lie! Five hundred pounds for groceries! I left it on the nightstand in the bedroom!
Daniel, I never took that money. Look again, maybe you misplaced it.
Ive turned the whole flat upsidedown! Its gone! You spent it on your trimmings!
Emily switched the burner off and wiped her hands on her apron. Four years of marriage had taught her to brace for such accusations, yet each one still cut to the bone.
Daniel, I didnt take your cash. I have my own wages, why would I steal?
Wages! he scoffed. Your petty shopping money? Thats not a wage, its an allowance!
At that moment Margaret, Daniels mother, stepped into the doorway. She had been living with us for six months after selling her flat, claiming shed invested the proceeds in her sons business, though Daniel was merely a manager at a construction firm.
Whats all this shouting about? she asked, eyeing the kitchen. Another quarrel?
Mother, shes taken my money! Five hundred pounds!
I didnt take anything, Emily whispered.
Margaret moved closer, scrutinising Emily from head to toe.
Daniel didnt give me any cash yesterday. He handed it to me for safekeeping because, dear, you cant be trusted with money. Youd waste it all.
Emily felt a cold knot tighten in her chest. Again they were united against her.
Margaret, if you took the money, say it straight. Why blame me?
Youd call my mother a thief? Daniel snapped.
I never said that. I just want to know the truth.
Theres nothing to find out, Margaret said, pulling a few notes from the pocket of her cardigan. Heres the money. I took it so you wouldnt squander it. Daniel, take it and buy yourself a proper shirt; you cant go to work in rags.
Daniel slipped the cash into his pocket without a glance at Emily.
Thanks, Mum. You always look after me.
Emily stood mute, the sting of indignity simmering inside. In that house any display of feeling turned against her.
The pies are burning, Margaret remarked. Everythings slipping through your fingers, you hopeless housewife.
Emily turned back to the stove. The pies were indeed blackening on one side. She flipped them over, breathing evenly, refusing to break, refusing to weep, simply doing the work shed always done.
Four years earlier life had seemed different. Daniel had courted me with flowers, taking me to cafés. I worked as a shop assistant in the same supermarket where I still stand, a girl with no qualifications, no connections, raised in a childrens home, later given a council flat and a job after I left school. It was a hard life, but it was mine.
Then Daniel appearedhandsome, confident, with a solid job. He noticed me one evening while buying groceries, struck up conversation, joked, asked me out. I could hardly believe my luck; a man like that and me, a girl from a care home with no family.
Our wedding was modest. I arrived alone with a flatmate from the hostel; Daniel brought his mother, a few relatives and friends. Margaret watched me with thinly veiled disapproval, though she never let it show. That was then.
After the ceremony I moved into Daniels twobedroom flat in a council estate. I kept my job, managed the household, tried to be a good wife. Slowly, though, things shifted.
First came petty criticismsmy soup was too salty, my shirt not ironed properly, my budgeting off. Then the accusations grew louder: I spent too much, dressed poorly, was ignorant. When Margaret moved in, the atmosphere soured completely. She assumed the role of household matriarch, nitpicking every move, turning Daniel against me, and Daniel, ever obedient, listened to his mother.
Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, I announced, setting the table.
Finally, Daniel muttered from his seat, phone in hand, eyes glazed. Im famished.
Margaret surveyed the spread.
The salads watery, and theres hardly any bread. Cutting corners on food now?
I bought exactly what we need for the week, according to the list you drew up yourself.
Dont argue with elders. The younger lot these days have lost all respect.
Dinner passed in a strained silence; Daniel chewed mechanically, Margaret sighed repeatedly, displeased with the quality. I barely touched my plate.
Afterwards I washed the dishes while Daniel and his mother lounged in the living room, watching television and laughing. Their voices floated across the room, a reminder that I was treated as a servant, not a partner.
When night fell, Daniel slipped into bed without a goodnight. I lay beside him, staring at the darkness, wondering when Id become so unhappy, when Id ceased to be the beloved wife and turned into a burden.
The next morning I rose before everyone else, as usual, prepared breakfast, packed his lunch, and watched him stalk out, muttering something unintelligible.
Later, as I was sipping tea, Margaret entered the kitchen.
Emily, we need to talk, she said, eyes cold.
Im listening.
This flat is too small for three. Were cramped.
I know, but we cant afford a bigger place yet.
Exactly. Daniel and I think you should find somewhere else to live for a while. Rent a room; you do have a salary.
This is my husbands flat. Im his wife.
Wife? Margaret smiled thinly. What kind of wife are you? You cant have children, youre useless around the house, you have no looks. Daniel could do better.
Daniel chose me, I whispered.
He made a mistake. People err, but they must correct it.
Youre suggesting I leave him?
Im offering to ease his life. No divorce, just a separation. Perhaps itll be better.
I rose, my hands trembling, but I kept my composure.
Ill speak to Daniel.
Speak, speak. Hell agree only with me. It was his idea.
The whole day at work my mind revolved around that conversation. Could he really want me gone? Did four years mean nothing?
That evening I returned home early. Daniel was in the kitchen with his mother, sipping tea.
Daniel, I need to talk to you alone.
Speak in front of Mum, she already knows everything.
This is between us.
He sighed, rose, and went to the bedroom. I followed, closed the door behind us.
Your mother said you want me out. Is that true?
Daniel turned toward the window.
It is. We need space. Mums here, Im uncomfortable, and youre just taking up room.
Im your wife!
A wife who hasnt given you a child in four years. A wife who earns pennies as a shop assistant. What use are you?
Daniel, the doctors said the problem isnt me. You
Shut up! he snapped, eyes flashing. Its your orphanage background! Who knows whats in your lineage!
What does the orphanage have to do with anything? My parents died in a crash when I was three. Im a normal, healthy person!
Normal, he laughed. No family, no roots, nothing. I married you out of pity, regretted it, and now youre a burden.
Tears welled, but I held them back.
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 hostel, rent a room. Thats your problem.
Daniel, I love you. We can try again
Its too late, Emily. Its decided. Pack your things.
When?
Tomorrow. You have the evening to collect yourself.
He left the room, leaving me alone on the bed wed shared for four years, where Id once dreamed of children, a happy home, a future.
Everything collapsed in an instant.
I began stuffing a suitcaseclothes, documents, a few pounds Id hidden, photographs, books. How much of my life did I own? Almost nothing.
Margaret peeked in.
Smart girl, you understand. No need for drama.
I dont want drama, I muttered, still packing.
Exactly. Slip out quietly. Daniel will find someone proper, from a respectable family.
I said nothing. Margaret always deemed me unworthy of her son and had got her way.
In the morning I dressed, grabbed my bags, and slipped out while Daniel slept. Margaret was at the kitchen table, tea in hand.
Leaving?
Yes.
Leave the keys on the table.
I placed the keys down, walked to the hallway, paused at the door, turned back once more at the flat that had been my home for four years. It would never be a home again.
I descended the stairs, out onto the quiet street. Dawn was breaking, the city still sleepy. The hostel room Id once occupied was now taken. Renting a place would need money, and I only had a few hundred pounds left.
I went to work early, hoping to think things over. The shop was warm and quiet. I slipped into the staffroom, sat on a crate, bags beside me. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldnt comeonly a hollow emptiness.
Emily? Up early? Veronica, the store manager, appeared in the doorway. She was in her fifties, stern but fair.
Couldnt sleep.
She squinted at my bags.
Whats happened?
Nothing. Everythings fine.
Dont lie. Ive known you four years; I can tell when youre not. Tell me.
So I told her everythingmy husband, my motherinlaw, being kicked out. Words flowed unbidden.
Veronica listened, nodding occasionally.
Those bastards, she said when I finished. Im sorry for the language, but its the truth.
I dont know what to do.
My daughter lives in Bristol; her flat is empty. You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.
Veronica, I cant
You can. And stop calling me Mrs. Im just Veronica. Pack your things; well go after your shift.
Ill pay you back. I promise.
Money will come. First you get standing.
Tears finally slipped down my cheeks. Someone had taken my side, offered help without asking for anything.
That evening we drove to Veronicas modest twobedroom flat on the outskirts of town. It was simple but cosy. Her daughters room had a narrow bed, a small desk, a wardrobe.
Make yourself at home. The beds fresh, I changed the sheets yesterday. If you need anything, just ask.
Thank you so much. I dont know how to thank you.
No need. Weve all been helped once. I was once rescued, now I return the favour.
I unpacked, placed my few belongings, and felt a strange peace settle over me. No one judged, no one shouted.
The next day Daniel called.
Where are you? I need you to collect the rest of your stuff.
What stuff? Ive taken everything.
Theres a box left. Your junk. Come today.
I cant; I work late.
Then tomorrow. Mum needs space for her things.
He hung up, never asking how I was, where I lived, or if I was safe. Just a box.
I returned after my shift, and Daniel opened the door, handing me the box.
Here, take it.
I asked to come in.
Why?
I want to discuss something.
He grudgingly let me in. The flat smelled of unfamiliar perfume. In the sitting room sat a young woman, about twentyfive, impeccably dressed.
Emily, this is Lena, Daniel said. Lena, this is my exwife.
Exwife? Were not divorced.
Formalities. Ill file the papers soon.
Lena glanced at me with thinly veiled superiority. She was beautiful, confident, everything I was not.
So youve already found a replacement, I whispered.
Im not a replacement, Lena replied, rising. Im his girlfriend. Real, not a temporary fling.
Daniel, how long have you been seeing her?
He stared at the floor.
Six months.
Six months. While Id been trying to be a good wife, hed been with another. The betrayal cut deep.
Then you blamed me for everything, I said.
Dont make a scene. Youre an orphan, no one will step in for you, he sneered, looking down at me. You have no one. So pack your box and get out.
I took the box, my hands trembling, the anger boiling inside, but I kept my composure and left.
On the walk back to Veronicas, tears finally fell, a relentless stream. How could a man be so cruel?
Veronica greeted me with tea and a slice of cake.
How was he?
Hes with someone else now, together for half a year.
Hes a monster. Im sorry, Emily, but youre not alone.
He said Im an orphan, no one will defend me.
Veronica set her cup down.
Thats where hes wrong. Im here. The girls from the shop are here. Were all on your side.
Thanks, but whats the point? Hell divorce, marry someone else, and forget me.
Thats actually the best outcome. Youll be free from that fool and can build a proper life.
Later, Veronicas friend Ella, another shop colleague, stopped by.
How can you push someone out of their home!
It seems you can, I said with a sad smile.
Have you spoken to the manager? We have a staffassistance scheme, you could get a grant.
I didnt know that.
Talk to Ms. Maria on Monday; shell help.
On Monday I did. Maria, the stores manager, listened, frowned, then said:
Those bastards. Ill arrange a hardship grant and give you a bonus for this month. It should cover the first rent deposit.
Thank you ever so much.
We dont abandon our own. Youre a good worker, an honest person. People like you should be valued.
That evening an unfamiliar woman called.
Emily? Im Tamara, Antons sister. I heard you were forced out. Im against that. If you need anything, let me know.
Why would you help?
Because I was once thrown out by my own husband. I understand.
We spoke at length. Tamaras story gave me strength.
A week later I found a room in a shared house. The landlady, old Mrs. Zinnia Clarke, welcomed me warmly.
Settle in, love. I like order, but Im not a nag. Just keep it tidy.
I moved in, hung my few photos, arranged my books. It was tiny, modest, but it was mine, free from humiliation.
Daniel sent a text confirming the divorce. I accepted his terms without protest, eager to close that chapter.
Three months passed. I grew accustomed to my new rhythmwork, a quiet flat, occasional drinks with the shop girls. Life was simple, peaceful, free of shouting and blame.
One day a gentleman in his forties entered the shop, tall, spectacled, with a kindly smile. He asked for help choosing produce, and we chatted. He returned several times, always polite.
Youre always so helpful to customers, he said one afternoon. Its rare to see such dedication.
His name was Michael, a teacher at a nearby school, recently separated and living alone. We began meeting for tea, then walks in the park, sharing stories without prying into my past. He never demanded anything, just offered companionship.
You know, being with you feels easy, he confessed one evening. I havent felt that in years.
Me too, I admitted, smiling.
Our friendship blossomed into something gentle, a warmth I thought Id lost. He never cared about my orphanage or my lack of family; he cared about the person I was.
Months later, on a street corner, I bumped into Daniel, arminarm with Lena, who was evidently expecting.
Hows life treating you? he asked with a smirk.
Fine. Happy, actually. No ones putting me down here.
Lena tugged his sleeve.
Come on, Dan. Lets go.
They walked away. I watched them go, feeling none of the old hurt, only a detached indifference. He belonged to the past, where he had his place.
That evening Michael and I strolled through the park, the sunset painting the sky.
I ran into my ex today, I said.
And?
Im fine. No feelings left.
Good. Letting go is healthy.
He took my hand.
Emily, youre strong. You survived betrayal, being tossed out, a divorce. You rebuilt yourself. Thats strength.
Strong? I laughed. I dontAnd as the night settled over the park, I finally understood that my true home was not a house, but the quiet certainty of my own resilient heart.
