A husband, after seventeen years of marriage to Emily, decided to leave her for a young studentbut he never expected the farewell she had prepared for him.
Emily stood by the window, tracing the raindrops as they slithered down the pane in winding, aimless paths. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or a fleeting moment? She remembered every shared morning, every anniversary, every quiet glance. Now it all crumbled like a sandcastle at high tide.
We need to talk, James said, his voice hollow.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. Guilt flickered beneath his resolveshe knew that look. It was the look of a man about to deliver a wound.
Im leaving, Emily. For Sophie.
Silence. Only the steady ticking of the grandfather clockhis mothers heirloomfilled the air.
The student from your lectures? Her voice was eerily calm.
Yes. My feelings have changed. I need something new, something alive. Youre a clever womanyoull understand.
Emily smiled. *Clever woman.* How often he used those words when he wanted his way.
Are you certain? she asked, nothing more.
Completely, James said. Ive already packed.
Emily only nodded. Then she walked to the cabinet and retrieved the special bottle theyd been saving.
Well, this *is* a special occasion, in a way, she said, twisting the cork. Lets have a farewell supper. Invite your friends, your family. Seventeen years deserves a proper send-off.
James blinked, baffled.
Youyou want to host a party for our divorce?
Why not? Emilys smile sent a chill down his spine. Lets toast to the life we had. After all, I *am* a clever woman, arent I?
She pulled out her phone, fingers dancing across the screen.
Tomorrow at seven. Ill make your favourites. Think of it as my parting gift.
James stood frozen. Hed braced for tears, rage, accusationsanything but this eerie composure.
Oh, Emily added without glancing up, tell Sophie shes invited too. Id love to meet the girl who managed what I couldntreigniting your passion.
The next morning, Emily rose before dawn.
She called banks, met with a solicitor, arranged documents. Each move was deliberate, exactlike a chess player plotting checkmate.
By evening, their spacious townhouse brimmed with the scent of rosemary and roast beef. Emily laid out the fine chinaher mother-in-laws wedding gift.
Everything must be perfect, she murmured, smoothing the linen napkins.
Guests arrived promptly at seven. Jamess parents came first. His mother, Margaret, embraced her awkwardly.
Emily, love, isnt there any way to fix this?
No, Mum. Sometimes the kindest thing is to let go.
Friends filtered in. James and Sophie arrived last.
Come in, sit, Emily said, gesturing to the head of the table. Tonight, you two are the guests of honour.
When the room settled, Emily raised her glass.
Dear friends, tonight is unusual. Were here to close one chapter and open another.
She turned to James.
Jamie, thank you for seventeen yearsfor the laughter and the tears, the highs and the lows. You taught me many things. For instance, that love can wear many faces.
A murmur rippled through the room. Sophie twisted her serviette, eyes fixed on her lap.
And you also taught me to mind the details, Emily continued, producing a thick envelope. Especially the financial ones.
She spread documents across the table.
Heres the loan for your Jaguartaken jointly. Here are your unpaid VAT bills. And these she tapped a stack of receipts, are rather interesting. Restaurants, jewellers, spas. All from this past year. I suppose Sophie enjoys the finer things?
James paled. Sophies head snapped up.
But the pièce de résistance, Emily said, unfolding one final sheet, is our prenup. Remember signing it in a hurry? Theres a fascinating clause about asset division in cases of adultery.
The silence thickened. The fridge hummed in the kitchen.
The house is in my name, Emily continued. The accounts are frozen. And I filed for divorce this morning.
She glanced at Sophie.
Darling, are you sure you want to tie yourself to a man with no home, no savings, and a mountain of debt?
Sophie sat rigid.
II should go, she stammered, bolting up.
Margaret shook her head.
James, how could you? We didnt raise you like this.
Mum, you dont understand
No, son, his father interrupted. *You* dont understand. Seventeen years is no trifle. And you tossed it asidefor a fling with a student?
Their friends stared at their plates. Only Thomas, Jamess oldest mate, muttered, Youve really cocked this up, havent you?
Emily stood, glass still in hand, serene as a summer sky.
The funny thing is, I believed our love was timeless. Like those couples in storybooks who grow old together. I ignored the late nights, the hushed calls, the new cufflinks and cologne.
She sipped her wine.
Then I found the receipts. The Ritz. Harrods. The spa weekends. You took her to all the places you once took me.
Sophie lingered in the doorway, clutching her handbag.
James, we need to talk. Now.
Of course, sweetheart, he said, half-rising, but Emily stopped him with a raised hand.
Wait. Im not done. Remember our first flat? That tiny place in Croydon? We were skint, but we were happy. You said we needed nothing but each other.
She smiled.
Now look at you. Savile Row suits, a flashy car, a mistress half your ageall built on lies and IOUs.
James, Sophies voice quivered, you told me you were separated. That you lived alone. That you were buying us a flat.
Sophie, I can explain
Dont bother, Emily said, sliding another envelope forward. Here are your card statements. Sophie might find it interesting that she wasnt the only one. Two other girlsstudents, was it?
The room held its breath. Sophie turned and fled, heels clacking down the steps.
Emily, James groaned, head in hands, why are you doing this?
Why? She laughed, joylessly. Did you expect weeping? Begging? Did you think Id grovel?
Her gaze swept the room.
The strangest part? I truly loved you. Every laugh line, every grey hair. Even your snoring made me smile. I was ready to grow old with you, to bounce grandchildren on my knee.
Love, Margaret whispered, perhaps thats enough.
No, Mum. Let them hear. Let them hear how your son took loans to buy gifts for his mistresses. How he squandered our money. How he lied to me, to you, to everyone.
She unfolded one last paper.
And this ones my favourite. Three months ago, you had me sign something for HMRC, remember? It was a loan guarantee. You used my Mini as collateral.
Chairs scraped. Guests murmured apologies, edging toward the door. Only Jamess parents and Thomas remained.
Son, his father said heavily, standing. Well go. Call whenwhen youve sorted yourself out.
Margaret hugged Emily.
Forgive us, darling. We never thought he
Dont apologise, Mum. This isnt on you.
Once theyd gone, Thomas clapped Jamess shoulder.
Mate, youve properly mucked this up. Ring me if you need owt. But dont ask for cash.
Then he, too, left.
James sat slumped. His tailored suit looked like a jesters costume.
You know, Emily said, tucking the papers away, I couldve screamed at you a month ago. I couldve keyed your car, burned your suits, made a scene at your office.
But I chose a different path, she added, drawing out a plane ticket. Im flying to the Seychelles tomorrow. I always wanted to go, but you said it was frivolous.
She set the keys on the table.
The house must be empty by weeks end. Im selling it. And dont bother with the accountstheyre locked until court.
James stared, lost.
What am I supposed to do now?
Not my concern, she said, slipping on her coat. The funniest bit? Im actually grateful. You woke me up. Shook off the cobwebs. I realised life doesnt end with you.
At the door, she turned one last time.
Goodbye, Jamie. I hope she was worth it.
The door clicked shut. James sat alone among half-eaten plates and half-drunk wine. Outside, an engine purredEmily driving toward a new horizon.
The rain returned, just like the night hed chosen to wreck everything. Only now, no one remained to watch the drops streak the glass.
