Helen Smith slammed the door on her exhusband and his mother the moment they arrived, demanding a truce.
Margaret Collins, do you realise the complaints weve been getting? This is the third this month! You cant work like this!
Helen stood in the matrons office, fists clenched, cheeks burning, a lump lodged in her throat.
Im doing everything by the book, Margaret. That Crutchfield woman nitpicks every little thing. Shes never satisfied.
Whether shes difficult or not, you must speak to patients respectfully. Youre a nurse, not
Not what? Helen snapped, sharper than intended. Not a doormat who has to put up with rudeness?
The matron sighed, pushed her glasses up, and rubbed her nose wearily.
Helen, I know youre going through a rough patch. Divorces are never easy. But the job is the job. Take some leave, get some rest. Im not sure how much more I can defend you.
Helen left the office, tears barely held back. A rough patch as if a holiday would fix everything. It had been six months since David walked out, and the wound still throbbed. Each day felt like a test: work, a silent flat, echoing footsteps.
In the oncall room, her colleague Lydia waited, the only person Helen could truly confide in.
So, whats the verdict? Lydia asked sympathetically.
She suggested I take a break. Said Im on the edge.
Maybe its worth it? Get away somewhere, clear your head.
Helen shook her head.
Where would I go? What for? Davids alimony is a handful of pennies, and his mother has pushed a few contracts onto me, claiming his income is tiny and the flat is in her name.
Youre a witch, Lydia muttered. I told you not to sign those papers.
I thought we were a family. I never imagined he could be so callous.
Helen poured tea from a thermos, sank into a worn chair, hands trembling. She was exhaustedby the work, the thoughts, the relentless ache in her chest.
Lydia, have I really changed? Am I becoming bitter?
Lydia sat beside her, hand on her shoulder.
Youre just protecting yourself. After twenty years with a man who just upand left for a younger woman with no kids, anyone would feel angry.
I dont want to be angry, Helen sobbed, the tears spilling over. I just want a normal life, free of this pain.
That evening she walked home on foot, skimping on transport. October was cold and rainy; wet leaves stuck to her shoes, the wind slipped under her coat collar. She stared at the pavement, lost in thought.
When David left, she could not accept it. It felt like a nightmare she would wake from and find everything as before: him hanging his coat in the hallway, asking whats for dinner, sharing the days details. But he never returned. Instead his mother, Evelyn Brown, arrived with papers and a cold stare, claiming David needed space because Helen had smothered him, that there was no love left. Helen listened, barely recognizing the woman shed called mum for years.
The flat is legally mine, Evelyn said, tapping the table. But I wont throw you out. Stay until you find somewhere else.
Ive lived here twenty years, Helen whispered. David and I renovated it, bought the furniture
Bought it with my money, Evelyn cut in. Remember, David is my son; Ill always stand by him.
Helen fell silent, packed a few belongings, and moved into a council flat on the outskirts. Small, dim, shared kitchen, a neighbour with a drinking problem, cats prowling around. At least it was her own spaceno one could claim she didnt belong.
She spotted a familiar black sedan parked by the block entrance. It was the car David had bought half a year earlier. A bitter thought struck: he was still around.
Climbing the stairs, voices drifted from the landing. There stood David and Evelyn, gesturing wildly, David nodding.
Helen! David shouted, the first thing he saw. Finally! Weve been waiting an hour.
Helen fumbled for her keys, ready to open the door, when Evelyn stepped in front of her.
Wait, we need to talk first.
Theres nothing to discuss, Helen tried to stay calm, though her insides trembled. Please, just let us pass.
Come on, dont be like that, David pleaded, looking older, eyes shadowed, cheeks hollow. Were here to make up.
Helen froze. Make up? After months of silence, humiliation, and being evicted from her own home, they wanted reconciliation?
Reconcile? she asked slowly.
Yes, David finally sees his mistake, Evelyn cooed. That girl he left you for turned out to be shallow. Hes remorseful, wants to come back.
Come back? Helen echoed, the words bouncing in her mind.
Were a family, after all. Twenty years together cant just be thrown away.
David extended his hand, but Helen stepped back.
Lets go inside and talk properly. Ill explain everything.
Explain? Helen felt anger bubbling. What do you expect me to explain, David? How you slipped out at night, claiming you loved someone else? Or how your mother threw me out of the flat Id poured my soul into?
Helen, dont start, Evelyn whispered, lips pressed tight. Were here with good intentions.
Good intentions? Helen laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. Youre only here because your son is lonely. Because the girl he ran after turned out to be smarter than you thought. And now you expect me to welcome him back?
You dont understand, David began, but Helen cut him off.
I understand perfectly. Six months ago you told me Id suffocated you, that there was no love left, that you needed space. And you were right.
Helen
No, let me finish. I spent thirtyfive years ironing your shirts, cooking your favourite meals, tolerating your mothers endless meddling. I gave up my career because you wanted a housewife. I never had children because it never happened, and I endured your mothers constant criticism.
I never said those things, David paled.
You didnt say them, but you stayed silent while your mother berated me. You stayed silent while I wept.
Evelyn sighed dramatically.
Enough, Helen. Stop digging up the past. David is apologising. Isnt that enough?
Not enough, Helen stared straight into Evelyns eyes. In the past six months Ive finally started living for myself. Yes, its hard. Yes, Im in a tiny council flat and moneys tight. But its my life, and no one can tell me Im wrong.
Shall we go in? David asked, glancing at the neighbours door, where footsteps could be heard.
In? Helen smirked. To you theyre strangers. To me theyre neighbours who treat me better than you and your mother ever have.
How dare you! Evelyn snapped. Im like a mother to you!
A mother doesnt kick a woman out of her own roof, Helen replied evenly. A mother doesnt strip a woman who cared for her son of a home.
The flat is mine on paper!
On paper, yes. On conscience, not so much.
Conscience is irrelevant, Evelyn retorted. The law is the law.
Helen nodded.
Youre right. The law is the law. Im not demanding the flat, the money, or an apology. I just ask you to leave and never appear in my life again.
Helen, wait, David grabbed her wrist. I truly regret. I was a fool. That Christine
I dont care what she was called or why she left, Helen shook his hand free. It makes no difference to me.
But we had years together! We had love!
We had love on my side. On yours it was convenience, perhaps habit.
She turned to the door, inserted the key, and felt the tremor in her hands fade. A strange calm settled over her, something she hadnt felt in months.
David, tell her! Evelyn urged, nudging her son. Dont stand there like a statue!
Mum, wait
I didnt sit in traffic for two hours just to be driven out by this obstinate woman! Youll regret this, Helen!
Helen glanced at Evelyns painted face, her expensive coat, the way she commanded her son. Then at David, head bowed like a guilty schoolboy.
Youre right, Evelyn, Helen said softly. Men like my ex need to be searched for. Thats why Im done looking.
Youll regret it! Evelyn shouted. At your age, who will need you? Thirtyfour and past your prime. Youll die alone!
Maybe, Helen shrugged. But Id rather be alone than with someone who doesnt value me.
She opened the door and stepped through, pausing for a final look.
I wish you happiness, if you can manage it without me, she said. Goodbye.
David called out, but she closed the door, leaned against it, and let the muffled voices behind her drift away. The elevator clanged, the hallway emptied.
Back in her tiny flat, she slipped off her shoes, collapsed onto the bed. The silence didnt feel frightening; it felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders.
Her phone buzzed. Lydia.
Hey, hows it going? Managed with Crutchfield?
Helen smiled as she typed back, Handled it. And more.
She rose, walked to the window, and watched the street lights flicker on. Cars passed, people hurried about, and she was part of the citys rhythmnot a wife, not a daughterinlaw, just Helen.
The next morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtain. She wondered if yesterday had been a dream, but the memory of David and his mother at her door was vivid. She had turned them away.
Helen began a morning routinelight exercises, a jog, a yoga class at the local community centre. Not to impress anyone, but because she finally had time for herself.
At work, Lydia noticed a change.
Youre glowing, she remarked.
David showed up with his mother, wanting to make up, Helen replied. I sent them away, politely but firmly.
Lydia hugged her.
Proud of you.
Helen thought, I spent twenty years living in the shadow of his wishes, his mothers demands, his choices. I forgot who Helen is, what she loves, what she wants.
What do you want now? Lydia asked.
Im not sure yet. I just know I wont go back to what was. It feels like breaking out of a cagescary at first, then you realise you can finally fly.
Lydia smiled. If he comes back?
He wont. I saw his face. He expected me to throw myself at his feet, to thank him for returning. He cant handle rejection.
A week later Helen approached Margaret about the leave.
Lets arrange a week off. Where to?
To my sisters in the countryside. Its been ages.
Her sister, Claire, lived in a small village three hundred miles away, in a cosy cottage with a ginger cat lounging on the windowsill and geraniums on the sill.
Claire greeted her with open arms.
Helen, love, come in! It smells of fresh pies and apples.
The cottage was simple but warm.
You look thinner, a bit pallid, Claire observed as she poured tea.
Divorced, Helen said bluntly.
Thank goodness! Claire clapped. That David was never right for you. Hes just a mothers puppet.
Helen laughed, appreciating Claires blunt honesty.
Funny enough, they turned up yesterday asking to reconcile. The girl he ran after left him, so he thought he could come back.
And you sent them packing? Claire asked.
Exactly.
Claire nodded.
Youre still young, beautiful. Lifes ahead of you.
Thirtyfour, Claire. Is life over?
Not a chance. My neighbour, fiftyeight, married a widower last year. Shes thriving.
Helen spent ten days with Claire, walking the woods, gathering mushrooms, helping with chores. Claire never probed about the past, just offered quiet companionship.
One evening they sat on the porch, sipping honeyed tea as the sun painted the sky pink.
Ever thought of moving here? Claire asked.
To the countryside? Why?
Its peaceful. My house is big enough. The local clinic needs a nurse. Pays lower than the city, but you wont have the daily stress.
Helen considered it. A quiet life, away from the citys bustle and painful reminders.
Leaving everything behind is hard, she admitted.
What are you leaving? The council flat? The job that undervalues you? The city where you might run into your ex?
She didnt answer, but the thought lingered.
Back in the city, fatigue returned. Grey skies, littered streets, crowds rushing past. The council flat greeted her with a musty smell and a shouting neighbour. Work was unchangedCrutchfield still complained, Margaret still sighed. Lydia noticed Helens faraway stare.
Whats on your mind? she asked over lunch.
Claire suggested I move to her village.
And youll go?
Im not sure. It feels like running away, yet maybe thats exactly what I needa fresh start.
Lydia remained quiet, then said, Ill support whatever you choose. Just think it through. Village life is different. Youll have to adapt.
Maybe Ill regret it, Helen admitted. But staying here, I know Ill regret it even more.
A few days later, walking home from the shop, Helen saw David standing outside a boutique, arminarm with a young woman who laughed brightly. He glanced at her, froze, then hurried on. The sight made Helen laugh out loud, startling passersby. She laughed because she finally understood: she didnt need that life, those people, that pain.
The next morning she handed in her resignation.
Youre serious? Lydia asked, eyes wide.
Absolutely. Im moving to Claires.
What about your things?
Just a few basics. The rest Ill give away or toss.
Lydia hugged her.
Promise youll call.
I will.
Packing took a week. Two suitcases and a handbag held everything Helen owned. On her final walk through the city, she visited the park where she and David had once strolled, lingered at the house theyd sharedwell, more like a place theyd occupied.
On the bus, she watched familiar landmarks fade. The unknown lay ahead, but Helen felt no fear. For the first time in years, she wasnt afraid.
At the bus station, Claire waited.
Here for good? she asked.
Here for good, Helen replied, smiling genuinely, without bitterness.
Life in the village wasnt easy, but Helen never regretted the choice. She found work at the local health centre, rented a modest cottage near Claire, and evenings were spent on the porch, sipping tea and chatting about everything and nothing.
Sometimes she recalled the day she shut the door on David and his mother. She remembered the shaking hands, the fear of being alone, and now understood that moment marked the beginning of her true lifeone where she finally became the main character.
She learned that freedom isnt given; its taken, and the courage to walk away from what hurts is the first step toward a life worth living.
