From the Cracked Trough
From childhood, Emily knew she was beautifuleveryone said so.
“Look at our lovely daughter, standing out with such rare beauty,” her mother would cheerfully tell colleagues and friends.
Indeed, everyone saw it and agreedwhat else could they say? Though one neighbour remained sceptical:
“All children are pretty, but they dont always stay that way,” she’d mutter, then hastily add, “Not all, mind you, but it happens.”
Emily grew up, and by her final year of school, she had become a tall, striking beautyproud and capricious, certain that the world would bend to her whims, especially the boys who watched her with longing.
After school, she didnt get into university, though she dreamed of it, so she settled for college, earning a diploma in retail management.
“Darling,” her mother said, “let me get you a job in the factory lab. Its easy workno heavy lifting, and youre far too delicate for anything rough.”
“But what about my diploma?”
“Oh, who works in their field these days? And why bother with shopkeeping?” Her mother, whod spent her life at the factory with Emilys father, had decided.
So Emily became a lab technician. By then, she was even more beautiful, fully aware of her worth. She fell for David, an engineer from the next workshop. Their love was fierce and briefsoon, he proposed.
“Before someone takes you from me, marry me,” he said, smiling as he offered his hand. “Will you?”
“Yes,” she answered, delighted.
The wedding was like any otherheld in the factory canteen. Back then, in those days, everyones wedding was the samemodest but crowded.
Not long after, Emily discovered she was expecting.
“David, were going to have a baby,” she told him.
“Wonderful! Im so happy, love,” he said, embracing her.
Their daughter, Lucy, was bornjust as pretty, taking after her mother. Everyone was content.
Time passed. Lucy grew, went to nursery, while Emily and David worked. After maternity leave, Emily changednot in looks, but in spirit. She began acting like a queen, belittling her husband more each day. David took over Lucys carecollecting her from nursery, reading bedtime stories, tucking her in.
Emily was always *busy*. She came home late, claiming overtime, though David knew no one in the lab worked extra hours. He avoided confrontation; shed erupt into screaming fits. He pitied Lucy, shielding her from their fights.
“David, your wife was seen with the head engineer at a restaurant,” colleagues whispered. Hed just lower his eyes.
“David, whyd you marry a beauty?” friends teased. “You know a pretty cake wont stay untouched forever…”
Everyone told him outrightEmily was popular with men, moving in high circles now, far from his plain, working-class life. Soon, she was seeing Anthony, a ministry official. He spoiled her with jewellery and designer clothes.
David became a meek, silent husband, bearing the brunt of chores and childcare. Emily only gave orders*do your homework, buy groceries, clean up*. Divorce never crossed his mind; he feared traumatising Lucy.
Then came the upheavalAnthonys position crumbled, along with many others. Rumours swirled.
“Emily, if they ask about me, say nothing,” he warned. “I dont think well meet again.”
He was right. Anthony vanishedarrested. Then Emily was summoned, questioned, detained. She wept, begged, swore she knew nothing of his dealings. Eventually released for lack of evidence, her reputation was ruined. She returned home feeling filthy, as if shed swum through sewage.
Everything was gone. Their savings, drainedDavid had sold half their belongings to support her during the ordeal. The factory fired her. David refused to divorce, for Lucys sake, but they lived as strangers.
Once, he nearly leftbut feared hurting Lucy. *She needs her mother too.*
Emily, sensing his thoughts, swallowed her pride.
“David, dont leave. Forgive meit wont happen again.”
He stayed but recoiled from her touch.
“You slept with others.”
“I did it for *us*,” she insisted.
She strayed again, finding a young assistantsharp, ambitious. Old connections helped her rebuild in the new era. Borrowing money, she rented a souvenir stall in a tourist hotspot. Soon, she owned a shop, then another.
“David, fetch me from the airportIm flying to Turkey for stock. Then Poland. Honestly, quit your job and help me.”
“No, Im no shopkeeper.”
“But I need a mans strength!”
“Plenty of unemployed men around,” he replied flatly.
Emily took a *young assistant*Artemhiding in hotels with him. Money flowed. She and David remained housemates. He knew about Artem, sometimes mentioned it.
“If youd paid me attention, I wouldnt need him,” she shot back.
“You disgust me,” he said.
Years flew. Lucy married and moved to Scotland. New Year approachedEmily flew to China; David celebrated in Norway with friends. They returned for Old New Year.
“Emilywhats this?” David gaped. “You look… younger.”
She didno sagging belly, just sleek and statuesque again.
“How much did *that* cost?”
She laughed wildly, then sobered.
“Everything. I gave *everything*.” She held out bare fingers, emptied her purse. “Chinese magicmassages, needles. *Very* expensive.”
She wouldnt age beside Artem. To David, she sneered,
“Youre old. Look at me.”
“Were the same age!”
She just laughed. But the treatments drained her funds. Then David had a heart attack. Hospitalised, frail, he aged overnight.
“God, is that what Id look like?” Emily muttered, glancing at him, then the mirror.
“Stay with me,” he sometimes pleaded.
“*Time is money*, David. I cant sit.”
One day, Artem met her at the shop with a folder.
“Read this.”
“What? Ive no time for paperwork”
“Its not *paperwork*. Its ownership. This is all mine now. Youre done.”
At the solicitors, she heard the same.
“Ms. Whitmore, I cant help. Artems documents are flawless. Your signatures are all there.”
“But I thought it was temporary!”
“You shouldve read them. Or hired me sooner.”
“At your prices?” she scoffed.
“You skimped. Now you complain?”
Defeated, she slunk home. Then
“I need money. *Lots*.”
“What about the business?” David asked weakly.
“Gone. Weve nothing. But I need cash”
“There *is* nothing.”
“The flat, then.”
“Nonot that!”
“Well sell it, buy something cheaper.”
“And what will *I* do?”
“Ill get you a computer. Live *virtually*.” She laughed.
Emily knew shed rise again, like a phoenixsell the flat, start over, conquer again…
