She hadn’t arrived yet. Lately, she’d been swamped with work, staying later each night.
Emily tucked the children into bed and wandered to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Jonathan still wasnt home. These days, he was buried in projects, always working late.
She pitied his exhaustion, shielding him from household worrieshe was the sole breadwinner, after all. When they married, they agreed shed manage the home and their future children while he handled finances. Three kids arrived in quick succession. Jonathan adored each one, declaring they wouldnt stop there.
But Emily was drained by the endless childcare and decided to pause further additions.
Jonathan stumbled in past midnight, slightly tipsy. When she asked why, he grinned:
“Em, the team was swamped, so we went for a quick drink.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Emily forced a smile. “Come, let me fix you supper.”
“Dont bother. We had a few nibbles at the pub. Beds calling.”
Mothers Day approached, and Emily, after asking her mum to mind the children, headed to the shopping centre. She wanted a special celebrationa romantic dinner for two. Her mother happily took the kids for the evening.
Alongside groceries and gifts, Emily bought something for herself. It had been ages since shed splurged on clothes, and she hated asking Jonathan for money when she had nowhere to wear them. Her last purchase? A comfy house sethardly fitting for the evening she envisioned.
Inside a boutique, she picked out dresses. Slipping into the second, she heard her husbands voice from the next stall:
“Mmm, cant wait to get you out of this.”
A womans laughter followed. “Patience, you devil! Go pick something for your wife.”
“Why? Shes knee-deep in nappies. As long as she feeds them, what does it matter what she wears? Ill get her a toaster or a blenderthatll please her.”
Emily froze, as if doused in ice water. Silently, she kept trying on clothes, eavesdropping through the thin wall.
“What if she asks where the money went? A blender doesnt cost that much” the woman teased.
“Why should I explain how I spend my money? I work; she lounges at home! She gets her allowanceshe should be grateful!”
The fitting session ended, voices fading. Emily peeked out. There was Jonathan at the till with a blonde, kissing her boldly, indifferent to the cashiers stare.
“Are you alright, miss?” the shop assistant asked, noticing Emily still in the stall, motionless.
“Fine!” Emily shoved the dresses at her. “Ill take them all.”
Back home, after her mother left and the kids napped, Emily pondered her next move. Jonathans betrayal stung, but his dismissal of her efforts hurt more.
She wanted to bolt, file for divorcebut forced herself to think.
“If I leave, hell vanish with that blonde, leaving us penniless. Child support? Pennies. How do we survive?”
That night, Jonathan didnt stay late “working.” “Already had his fun,” Emily thought coldly. Her love for him had vanished; he was a stranger now. Only fear of his touch remainedshe couldnt bear it.
Luckily, he seemed sated and kept his distance.
The next day, Emily drafted her CV, sending it off to agencies and firms. Then, the waiting began. Days dragged, each morning checking her inbox. Finally, a replyan interview at a local company. Ironically, Jonathans workplace. After much deliberation, she went.
Her mother watched the kids again as she headed to the meeting. Two hours later, they offered her a decent role with flexible hours. The pay wasnt lavish, but enough to support her and the children.
Emily returned glowing. Her mother, puzzled by her cheer, pressed for details.
“Mum, Jonathans cheating on me!” Emily blurted, relief mixing with fury. Convinced her daughter was confused, her mother sat her down, soothing.
“Emily, darling, thats ridiculous! Jonathan? Hes always working!”
“Hes with his mistress!” Emily spilled the fitting-room encounter. Her mother listened, then asked, “What now?”
“Im divorcing him. AndI got a job! Flexible hours. Once the kids are in nursery, Ill work full-time.”
“Good for you! No forgiving that. Hes lost all respect. Ill help with the children.”
“Thank you, Mum!” Emily hugged her tightly.
On the evening of March 7th, Jonathan arrived late again. Emily didnt question him. Surprised by her indifference, he stammered:
“Em, work ran late again” She cut him off. “Just go to bed.”
At breakfast the next day, he presented her with a gift: a blender.
“Here, love, to make things easier.” He leaned in for a kiss, but Emily recoiled, ignoring the box as she stood.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Baffled, Jonathan followed her to the hallway, where two large suitcases waited.
“Im filing for divorce. No more excuses. Get out.”
“How did you?” he muttered, stunned.
“In the changing room, picking gifts for your blonde. Give her the blender tooI dont need it.”
Fury twisted his face. “Jealous, are you? Shes gorgeous, polishedunlike you! Youve forgotten how to dress, buried in kids, living off me. Who cares what I buy with my money? Its mine! You just hate me spending it on someone elseselfish cow!”
“Not jealous,” Emily said calmly. “Now leave.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, her mother-in-law banged on the door, livid:
“Gold-digger! You threw him out, now youre milking him? Drop the support! He owes you nothing!”
“Hes paying for his childrenthe ones he wanted,” Emily shot back. “If he cant afford his mistress, thats his problem.”
“How will you survive without him? You had kids thinking youd leech off him forever! It wont work! Hell slash his official salaryyoull get scraps! Youll come crawling back!”
“Doubt it.” Emily pointed at the door. “Get out before I call the police.”
Cursing, the woman left.
Months passed. All children started nursery. Once the youngest settled, Emily began full-time work.
“Hi,” a familiar voice said by her desk. “Can we talk?”
“Sorry, Jonathan. Busy,” she replied, not looking up.
“Lunch, maybe?” He lingered. Emily glanced upher ex looked haggard. Rumor was the blonde had dumped him when half his wages went to child support. But she didnt care.
“No, Jonathan. We wont talk. Or lunch.”
