After her spin class, Blythe hurried home, promising her husband Harold to make a pot of fish soup. When she stepped into the flat, she found Harold lounging at the kitchen table with a glass of red wine.
Really? Youve been waiting all day for me? she said, trying to keep the tone light. Let me at least whip up a snack.
Sit down, he replied, his voice unusually serious. Theres something we need to talk about.
Blythe had never seen this side of Harold beforetroubled, almost lost. What on earth is happening? she asked.
He sighed. I dont even know where to begin Ill just say it as it is. My secretary, Ethel, is pregnant with my child, and Im leaving her.
Blythe blinked. That sounds like a plot from a bad soap opera. How long has this been going on?
About a year, Harold admitted. From the moment she arrived she kept giving me attention, and I fell for it. Shes young, beautiful, full of laughterjust like you were when we first met. I fell for her like a schoolboy. I wanted to tell you honestly, but I didnt have the courage. I felt sorry for you.
He paused, looking down at his hands. Now theres no turning back; well soon be parents. You know Ive always wanted a child of my own. Arthur is like a son to me, but not by blood. I need an heir to pass the business on to, understand? Being with Ethel makes me feel young again I guess Im hitting a midlife crisishave you heard of that?
Harold swallowed. Im a scoundrel, thats true. But I wont leave you or Arthur emptyhanded. Ill keep the flat, the car, the moneyeverything. Ill still fund your studies, just as I promised. Ive already bought a new house in the name of Ethel, because shell be the mother of my child.
Blythe tried to stay calm, her voice steady. I get it, Harold. Its hard to resist a beauty like Ethel, and youve always been a proper English gentleman. You cant abandon a child; thats noble. Thanks for the financial help; Ill use it to travel and start living for myself.
What about moving out? she asked. Do you need a hand with the boxes?
Harold stared at her, bewildered by her composure. It was almost a reliefno shouting, no melodrama.
Goodbye, my dear, Blythe said softly. Thank you for the years we shared; I was happy with you. Life has its own script perhaps Ill love again and find happiness with someone new. Now, off you goEthels probably waiting, wondering why Ive lingered.
Harold grabbed his suitcases, forced a nervous smile, and rushed to the lift.
Closing the door behind him, Blythe walked back to the kitchen, fetched a chilled bottle of champagne from the fridge, popped it, poured herself a full glass and drank it down. Her husband had just walked out on herhow absurd that sounded.
She had never imagined it happening. After all those years of a quiet partnership, there had never been wild passion, but there had been habit, respect, and a comfortable affection.
She wiped away any lingering selfpity. A new chapter meant new rules. She would find something to occupy her time, and Harold would still be sending money. Refusing his support would be foolish; with his cash came more options. She just had to get used to being on her own.
The next weeks whirled past in a flurry of fresh experiences. Blythe signed up for ballroom dancing after work, spent weekends at museums, the cinema, and the gym. She wasnt alone; her neighbour Iris, a solitary woman, gladly kept her company.
Arthur was studying in another city and visited only occasionally, leaving Blythe to her own devices. She cooked only what she liked, without trying to please anyone. She pursued her own interests, free from any prohibition. The thought of a new lover never crossed her mind, and being solo felt fine.
Their divorce proceeded quietly and amicably. In the courtroom corridor Blythe caught a glimpse of Ethela striking woman, undeniably attractive. Harolds taste hadnt failed him.
True to his word, Harold transferred a modest sum each month. Blythe was grateful for his generosity, aware that his business was booming and he could easily support her and Arthur as a thankyou for the years theyd spent together. Ethel, it seemed, knew nothing of this arrangement and would never have approved it.
A year passed. Blythes life stayed much the same: dancing, workouts, a couple of trips abroad. Harolds payments stopped, and Blythe felt uneasy asking why. Most likely Ethel had put an end to them. It didnt matter; she would manage. Arthur earned well enough from his university job to fund his own expenses.
One lazy Sunday, Blythe decided to make fish soup for dinner, only to discover shed run out of breada staple she loved. She slipped out to the local bakery and, to her surprise, ran into Harold on the high street.
Harold, what are you doing here? she asked.
Blythe, hello. Ive moved nearby bought a flat, he replied.
Really? And Ethel? Any children yet?
A daughter, he said, sighing. Its a long story. Turns out Ethel was planted by a rival to gain my trust. I fell for her, and later she tried to force me to transfer the business to her, fearing Id walk away with nothing. In a fit of emotion after she gave birth, I signed over everything. I kept a small reserve account she doesnt know about. She ended up tossing me out, the daughter isnt even mine, and the company went to the competitor. So here I am, stuck in a messlike a bad soap opera.
He continued, I bought this flat, found a job, and Im getting by, but my old life is gone. I cant help you any more. Im sorry. You probably dont want to speak to me after Ive traded you for this fiasco.
Blythe felt a pang of pity for him. He looked worn out, but the betrayal by Ethel was clearhed poured his heart and effort into a venture that was taken from him.
Dont be foolish, Harold, she said. Come over; Ive just made the soup you used to love.
They sat together in the kitchen where theyd once shared countless meals, chatting about the news. They were no longer husband and wife, but old friends.
From time to time they phoned each other, never hinting at rekindling the past. Each built a new life. Blythe met a man at dance class, married him, and found happiness.
She invited Harold to her wedding; he attended and genuinely celebrated her joy. At the reception he met his new brotherinlaws sister, and months later Blythe and her new husband were dancing at his own wedding.
Life, she realised, is an unpredictable tapestry. One should never surrender to despair or write ones own epitaph before the story ends. You never know what tomorrow holds; the secret is to keep moving forward and cherish each day.
