I got home that evening to find Eleanor in the dining room, setting the table for dinner. I grabbed her wrist, asked her to pause and sit with me for a minute because I had something important to say: I want to file for divorce. She stared at me, then finally asked why. I couldnt answer, and my silence turned her into a shrieking, incoherent messshe abandoned the meal, wailed, fell silent, and started up again and then she wept all night. I understood her pain, but I had nothing comforting to offerId fallen out of love with my wife and fallen into the arms of another woman.
Guilt-ridden, I slid a settlement paper across the table, promising to leave her the flat and the car, but she tore the document to shreds and tossed the bits out the window. She began to sob again. I felt nothing but a prickly conscienceafter ten years together, my wife felt as foreign as a tourist brochure.
I regretted the years wed shared and was eager to shed these marital shackles and chase my new, true love. The next morning I found a note on the bedside table with divorce terms: Eleanor asked me to delay the filing for a month and, during that time, keep up the façade of a happy family. The reason? Our sons upcoming exams. And another odd request: on our wedding day Id carried her into the flat on my arms, and now she wanted me to do the same every morning for the month, hauling her out of the bedroom.
Since the new romance began, physical contact with Eleanor had all but vanishedshared breakfast, shared dinner, and sleeping at opposite ends of the bed. So when I first lifted her in my arms after that long hiatus, I felt a strange flutter in my chest. Our sons applause snapped me back to reality; Eleanors face lit up with a tired smile, and I felt an odd pang. From bedroom to dining room was about ten metres, and as I tottered her, she covered her eyes and whispered, barely audible, Dont tell the boy about the divorce until the agreed date.
On day two the role of the cheerful, doting husband came a little easier. Eleanor rested her head on my shoulder, and I realised how long Id stopped noticing the little quirks that once made me smilenone of them looked the same as they did ten years ago. By day four, when I hoisted her again, I thought of the decade shed given me. On day five my chest tightened at the vulnerability of her small, trusting frame pressed against me. Each day the lift grew lighter.
One morning I caught her staring at her wardrobe; overnight everything had become a massive, illfitting mess. I finally noticed how shed slipped a size and grown gaunt. Thats why my burden was easing day by day. A sudden, almost slapintheface realization hit me; I brushed her hair absentmindedly. Eleanor called our son over and wrapped both of us in a tight hug. Tears welled up, but I turned awaymy decision was set. I lifted her once more, carried her out, she clung to my neck, and I pressed her to my chest like on our first wedding day.
As the agreed month waned, a storm of confusion roiled inside me. Something had shifted, something I couldnt name. I went to my other woman and told her I wouldnt go through with the divorce.
On the drive home I mused that the dull grind of family life isnt caused by love fading but by people forgetting each others importance. I veered off the main road, stopped at a florist, bought a bouquet and a card that read, Ill carry you in my arms until the last day of your life! My heart hammered as I entered the flat. I searched every room and found Eleanor in the bedroomshe was dead.
For months, while I floated on a cloud of newlove infatuation, she had been silently battling a serious illness. Knowing she didnt have much time left, she summoned her last ounce of will to spare our son stress and preserve the image of a good father and loving husband in his eyes.
