“Who Would Want You?”
“Max, please, let me go… We tried to build a life together, but it didnt work. Why torture each other? Lets just get a divorce,” Emily pleaded, her voice trembling.
“Dream on,” her husband sneered, crossing his arms. “Youre not going anywhere. Youre my wife, Im your husband, and thats that. What, life isnt good enough for you? Or have you fallen out of love? Maybe theres someone else? Answer me when I ask you something!”
Emily perched on the edge of the sofa, nervously twisting the hem of her jumper. After yet another row, she wished she could vanishdisappear from his life forever. Divorce was an option, but she couldnt summon the courage to file. Two years of marriage now felt like a bad dream, especially the last six months. James had morphed into a petty tyrant, always finding new reasons to berate her.
It started that morning over something trivialshed ordered a new face cream.
“Wasting money on rubbish again?” James had snapped when she returned with the package.
Emily tried to explain, but he wasnt listening.
“Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Face cream, really? Couldve helped my parents instead.”
“James, come onI work, its my money. And I do help your parents, you know that.”
“A few quid here and there doesnt count. They need real help. Youre selfish, Em. Always spending on nonsense while the rest of us struggle.”
His voice rose, eyes blazing. Emily broke into tears, but James just slammed the door, leaving her alone with her helplessness. He always did thispushed her to the edge, then walked away.
She remembered how it began. James had been perfectattentive, caring, loving. But something shifted. Or maybe shed never seen the real James before.
That evening, he returned to find her sipping tea at the kitchen table.
“Crying again?” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
“No You just hurt me.”
“Hurt you? You brought it on yourself. Think before you act.”
“What am I doing wrong?” she whispered.
“Everything! You dont even try. I work my fingers to the bone, and what do you do? Tap at a keyboard half the day, laze about the other half!”
“I work too, just as hard as you,” she protested, instantly regretting it.
“Your job? Pocket change! Im the one keeping us afloat. You should be grateful, Em. Not once have you thanked me for all Ive done.”
“I am grateful But that doesnt give you the right to speak to me like this.”
“How else should I speak? Youre never happy. And that whiningit drives me mad! Always playing the victim.”
“James The truth is, youre never satisfied. Im afraid to speak, to buy anything, even to rest. If I nap, youll scream at me! I cant take it anymore”
“Spare me the drama. Sick of your theatrics.”
The disgust in his voice made her wince.
“I dont understand,” she whispered. “Why are you like this?”
“Do things right, dont annoy me, and well be fine.”
She searched his eyesno warmth, no love. Only irritation.
“Maybe we should talk see a couples counsellor?”
“A counsellor? Youre the one who needs help. Youre unhinged,” he scoffed. “Always inventing problems.”
That sealed it. Emily decided she had to leave. As James ate and switched on the telly, she dug out an old notebook and began plotting her escape.
***
The next morning, Emily left early, stopping at a café to collect her thoughts. Over coffee, she scribbled in her notebook:
“Step one: Find part-time work for extra income. Step two: Rent a flat or room. Step three: Pack essentials. Step four”
“Emily?”
She looked up to see her old schoolmate, Sophie.
“Soph! Its been ages!”
“Too long,” Sophie smiled. “Everything alright? You look pale.”
Emily hadnt heard kindness in so long. Her parents were kept in the dark to spare them worry, and James had isolated her from friends. The dam broke.
“Soph, its awful,” she choked out. “Jameshe berates me, belittles me. I cant take it anymore. Hes even raised his hand a few times”
Sophie listened, never interrupting.
“I want to leave,” Emily confessed. “But Im terrified. Where do I even start?”
“Emily, get out. Ill helpstay with me as long as you need. And there are free helplines for women in your situation.”
“I didnt know”
“Now you do. And rememberyoure stronger than you think.”
After work, they talked for hours. By the end, Emily felt reborn.
***
That night, James was waiting, glaring at the telly.
“Where were you?”
“Out walking.”
“Walking? Or meeting someone?”
Her blood ran cold.
“How could you say that?”
“Wouldnt put it past you. Youve got a nerve.”
Enough. Emily steadied herself.
“James, we need to talk. About us.”
“What now?”
“I want a divorce.”
He gaped at her.
“You what?”
“Im done. You demean me constantly. Im miserable.”
“Youre mad! Divorce? Without me, youre nothing! You should be thanking me!”
“I dont owe you gratitude. I deserve happiness.”
“Happy? Youll regret this. No one will want you.”
Emily stayed silent. The decision was made.
“Im leaving tomorrow,” she said calmly.
“Where? Youve got nothing!”
“Thats my business.”
“Ill make your life hell!” he roared. “Youll rue the day you crossed me! Ungrateful wretch!”
She turned away, heading to the bedroom to pack.
James slept on the sofa. Emily lay awake, staring at the ceiling, fear and resolve warring inside her.
At dawn, she dressed quietly. James was already at the table, coffee in hand.
“Youre not going anywhere,” he growled.
“Its over, James.”
“I forbid it!”
He stood, advancing on her. Emily backed against the wall.
“Dont touch me”
He shoved her hard. Her head struck the wall as she crumpled to the floor. Towering over her, fist raised, James was a stranger now. She shut her eyes, bracing for the blow
But the lesson was already clear: No one deserves to live in fear. Courage isnt the absence of terrorits walking away despite it.
