“Dont you get it?” John smacked the steering wheel. “This will ruin our marriage!”
“Its not this thatll ruin our marriage,” sighed Emily. She regretted coming. Hed asked for help closing up the summer cottage, and shed agreedbut that meant four hours trapped together in the car.
It was late autumn, cold and bleak. Rain had soaked the week, but today the sky had cleared. Side by side, theyd winterised the cottagepacking away dry goods (no use tempting mice), draining the taps, sealing the shutters. To Emily, it felt like draining the life from the house, forcing it into hibernation.
As they left, the sun broke through unexpectedly, lighting up the row of cottages. Theirs hunched, lonely. Emilys eyes stung. She buckled in, struck by the thought: *Im that house. Standing, walls intact, roof soundbut hollow. No light behind the shuttered windows.* She hunched too.
Marriage had become stifling. She wanted out, desperately, but couldnt see how to claw free.
Emily was miserable. Not just the wordthe truth, since day two of marriage.
“Come here,” John had snapped that morning. “You left the shower curtain open. Waters on the floorfix it.” She did, baffled. Why couldnt he? A two-second job.
“Now here,” he barked from the kitchen. “Whyd you open a new milk carton?”
“I didnt see the open one.”
“Whatve you got eyes for?” Silence. *Eyes, obviously.*
“Your vision alright?” Mock concern.
“Fine.”
“Then howd you miss a litre of milk?” Shed cried then, bewildered by his fury over nothing.
This was his way. If she noticed his socks strewn about or the balcony door ajar, shed fix it quietly. But hed summon her, dissect her “mistakes,” demand, “Understood?”
And always the question: “Are you even normal?” By year two, Emily wasnt sure.
Then she learned the word *gaslighting*. Psychological warfare, making you doubt your own mind. *Maybe I am broken.*
At work, she was sharp, efficientflawless under pressure. At home, she flinched at his calls, bracing for the next “crime.”
Her coping mechanism: *Do one thing*. Fold laundry, bake a pie, tidy a shelf. When the fog of worthlessness rolled in, shed grip that small victory: *Today wasnt wasted. Lookneat jumpers. Rolled socks.*
“Whatre you staring at?” John would sneer. But that shelf, those folded tightsthey were her lifeline.
Then came the job offer. Another city. Four hours away. She accepted instantly, giddy.
A divorce by circumstanceperfect.
John raged. “Thisll ruin us!”
“No,” she murmured. “*This* wont.”
Once, at a nephews birthday, shed watched a science show. The host asked, “Whats liquid nitrogens boiling point?” The kidsfive years oldstared blankly.
“Minus 196°C! And who invented ice cream? Hint: Chi”
“Chicken?” piped the birthday boy.
“China!” The host beamed.
Emily realised: *This partys for older kids. These little ones dont get it.*
*Marriage is like thatfor grown-ups. Stuffy. A bus with sealed windows because someone fears a draft. A tug-of-war between fresh air and suffocation. You just want offno idea where youre headed, why youre still aboard.*
When shed boarded this “marriage bus,” shed imagined a double-decker: spacious, scenic, her partner catching her scarf in the wind. Now she wondered if she simply wasnt *built* for marriagetoo inept to endure it.
But no. *Our marriage wont die from distance. Itll die because you need me to torment, not love. Im not “wrong”youve twisted milk cartons into crimes. Im normal. You just made me forget.*
*You dont see me. You choke me with words. Ive mastered silenceor pleading. Our love died long ago. The funerals overdue. Divorce is just the headstone.*
*Im sealed in this marriage like that cottagebut not for winter. For life. And I refuse.*
*That other city? Ive never been, but its brighter. Because you wont be there. There, milk is just milk. Mistakes stay small. Ill be whole againnot the cracked reflection you made me see.*
She didnt say it aloud. Some tormentors never realise theyre cruel. Arguing only proves *youre* the “mad” one.
At a red light, Emily unclipped her seatbelt and stepped out. The most dangerous place on earth? Staying beside him.
