The rain lashed against the windows as Emily struggled with the grocery bags in the hallway, her coat dripping onto the mat. James, stop gawping at the telly and help me with these! she shouted, her voice sharp with exhaustion.
James dragged himself away from the football match, sighing as he glanced at the overstuffed bags. Bloody hell, did you have to buy out the whole farmers market? This lot mustve cost a fortune.
Where else am I supposed to get decent tomatoes? Emily snapped, unpacking vegetables with brisk efficiency. Lydias coming over tomorrow with the kidsI want to make that beef stew she likes.
She always went to such lengths when his younger sister visitedscrubbing the flat until it gleamed, buying the finest ingredients, digging out the good china. Meanwhile, James barely lifted a finger unless prompted.
Dont see the point in all this fuss, he muttered. Lyds not picky.
Pickiness has nothing to do with it. Family deserves proper hospitality.
Emily knew he disapproved, but she did it anyway. Lydia Jamesonshe always used her full name, even in her headwasnt just Jamess sister. She was everything Emily wasnt: poised, successful, effortlessly stylish. A banker in Manchester, married to a corporate lawyer, two perfect children. Next to her, Emily felt like a frumpy housewife.
A knock at the door startled them.
Thats early, James frowned, checking his watch. They said theyd come after lunch.
But it wasnt Lydia. It was Mrs. Wilkins from next door, her eyes red-rimmed.
Emily, lovehave you seen Marmalade? Hes been missing three days. Ive searched everywhere!
Emily ushered her in, putting the kettle on. The old woman lived alone; that ginger tabby was her whole world.
Havent spotted him, but hell turn up. Cats always do.
Not my boy! Hes neuteredhe doesnt wander off! Mrs. Wilkins dabbed her eyes.
James rolled his own and retreated to the telly. An hour later, after endless reassurances, their neighbor finally left.
Weve got guests coming, and youre playing therapist to that daft old bat? he exploded.
Shes heartbroken, James! That cats all she has.
Its a bloody animal! Lydias bringing the kids, and youve not even finished prepping!
Emilys jaw tightened. Always Lydia. Like their lives revolved around her.
That evening, when Lydia arrived, polished in a tailored blazer and designer heels, James transformedlaughing, doting on his niece and nephew, his face lit with an affection Emily rarely saw. The children clung to him, begging for video games, while Lydia exchanged polite small talk with Emily, her smile cool and distant.
Dinner was stilted. James and Lydia reminisced about their childhoodinside jokes, shared memorieswhile Emily played hostess, refilling glasses, forcing smiles.
Later, as they cleared the table, Lydias polished nails tapped her wineglass. Emily James mentioned youve been talking about children.
Emily froze. Hed discussed this with her?
Weve been married seven years, she said carefully.
Lydia sighed. I worry about him. Kids are a huge financial burden.
Well manage.
Will you? A condescending tilt of her head. Jamess salary barely covers your rent. No car, no savings. School fees, uniforms, universityit adds up.
Thats our concern, not yours.
It becomes mine when he turns to me for help. He always does.
Emilys blood boiled. So James complained about her to his sisterwhile shutting her out.
The next morning, over breakfast, Lydias daughter piped up, Auntie Em, why dont you have a baby? Mummy said Uncle James is scared you cant afford one.
Silence. James choked on his tea. Lydia flushed.
Alice! she hissed.
But you said it in the car! the girl insisted. Daddy agreed!
Emily stood abruptly. Lydia. How dare you?
It slipped out, I never meant
Slipped out? Youve been poisoning this for months!
James slammed his hands on the table. Enough! Lydias familyshes got a right to her opinion!
And I dont? Emilys voice shook. Who matters more, James? Me or her?
He hesitatedthen the dam broke.
Lydias my sister. Shes been there my whole life. You? We married, but youve never understood me like she does.
The words hung, cruel and final. Lydia gasped. Emily walked out.
She took the train to her mums in Leeds, ignoring Jamess calls. Some words couldnt be unsaid. Some choices couldnt be undone.
Six months later, the divorce was finalized. James didnt fight it.
Years passed. One rainy afternoon, Emily bumped into Mrs. Wilkins at the shops.
Love, whatever happened to that husband of yours? Never see him anymore.
We divorced, Emily said simply.
Mrs. Wilkins tutted. Shame. Nice bloke, but always wrapped around his sisters finger, wasnt he?
Emily smiled. Funny how obvious it was to everyone but her.
She walked home, umbrella in hand, content. Better to be alone than to be a stranger in your own marriage.
