“Your times up,” said her husband, pointing to the door.
“That smell again! I asked you not to smoke inside!” Emily flung open the living room windows, angrily swishing the curtains. “Goodness, even the sofa reeks. What will Margaret and her husband think when they come for dinner?”
“What will they think?” Daniel deliberately stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Theyll think a normal bloke lives hereone who smokes occasionally. Big deal.”
“Normal blokes, Daniel, smoke on the balcony or outside. They dont poison their families with cigarette smoke. I get headaches because of you.”
“Here we go,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly now its a problem. Maybe its menopause, love.”
Emily froze, lips pressed tight. Lately, he kept bringing up her age, as if aiming to wound herand always hitting the mark.
“Whats that got to do with it?” She turned to the window to hide her tears. “Im just asking for basic respect. Is it so hard to step outside?”
“Respect?” He scoffed. “Wheres your respect for me? After work, I want to sit in my chair, have a cuppa, and smoke. Not march back and forth like a schoolboy. Its my house!”
“Our house,” she corrected quietly.
“Right, ours,” he muttered. “Except I pay the mortgage. And the renovations. And that new coat of yours.”
Emily exhaled sharply. Shed heard this a thousand times. True, she hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst raising their children, then caring for his mother, then… just settling into homemaking. And Daniel had made sure she never forgot it.
“Lets not argue,” she said wearily. “Just smoke on the balcony. Margaret has asthmaitll be hard for her to breathe.”
“Fine,” he said unexpectedly. “For your precious Margaret, Ill step outside. But just tonight.”
He rose from his chair and headed to the bedroom, tossing over his shoulder, “And whyd you even invite them? Ive an important meeting tomorrowI need sleep, not to entertain your dull friends.”
“Theyre not just friends,” she countered. “Michael runs the library. He might help me find work.”
Daniel stopped in the doorway. “What work?”
Emily hesitated. Shed meant to tell him later, once things were settled.
“I want a job at the library,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Three days a week, part-time. The children are grown, youre always at the office…”
“Wholl manage the house?” he cut in. “The cooking, cleaning, laundry?”
“Ill manage. The children hardly visit now, and we dont need big meals”
“Your mother visits every week,” he grumbled. “And expects pies and roasts each time.”
“Mum helps with chores,” Emily protested. “And she doesnt come that often.”
“Damn it, Emily.” He waved a hand. “Youre forty-seven. What job? Stay homeknit, read, whatever. Stick to your hobbies.”
“Read?” Her voice sharpened. “Daniel, have you forgotten I have a degree in English? That I taught literature before the children?”
“Taughtso what?” He flopped back into his chair. “That was twenty years ago. Times change. Whod hire you now?”
“The library would,” she said stubbornly. “I dont need loads of money. I need purpose. A reason to feel alive beyond cooking and ironing your shirts.”
“Charming,” he sneered. “So home and family arent enough? Not worthy of your brilliance?”
“You know thats not what I meant,” she said, exhausted. “Lets discuss this later. Weve guests coming.”
She retreated to the kitchen, heart pounding. Lately, every conversation became a fight. When had it started? She couldnt pinpoint the moment theyd begun speaking different languageswhen hed stopped hearing her.
Once, theyd been different. Theyd met at university, both book-loving students. He wrote poetry; she adored it. Then came marriage, their daughter Sophie, then James. Daniel climbed the corporate ladder; Emily stayed home, her own dreams shelved like unread novels.
She hadnt noticed him changingthe romantic youth hardening into a cynical man who came home late and stopped asking about her thoughts. By the time she noticed, it was too late. They were strangers sharing a roof.
Margaret and Michael arrived promptly at seven. Michaela burly man with a thick beardlaunched into politics with Daniel, while Margaret, a sprightly woman in her sixties, helped Emily in the kitchen.
“Hows Daniel taking the job idea?” Margaret asked, chopping salad.
“Hes against it.”
“Men hate change,” Margaret said dryly. “Especially when it disrupts their comfort.”
“But nothing would change! Id still handle everythingjust work a few hours a week.”
“To him, thats apocalyptic,” Margaret chuckled. “Imaginehe comes home, and youre not there. The horror!”
They laughed, and Emily felt lighter. Margaret always radiated calm.
Dinner began civilly. Daniel was charming, even joking. Emily dared hope the tension had passed.
“Speaking of literature,” Margaret said, “have you told Daniel about our plan?”
“What plan?” Daniels fork paused mid-air.
“We thought Emily could run a childrens book club,” Margaret said cheerfully. “Twice weekly. Just a few hours.”
Daniel set down his fork. “And when were you planning to mention this?”
“I tried today,” Emily said quietly.
“I dont recall a discussion,” Daniel said coldly. “Emilys suddenly obsessed with work. At her age, starting a career is… unwise.”
“Nonsense!” Michael said. “Emilys highly educated. Wed be lucky to have her.”
Daniels smile was icy. “She has responsibilitiesto her home, her husband.”
“Daniel,” Emily pleaded, face burning. “Not in front of guests.”
“Why not?” he challenged. “Im clarifying things. I wont have my wife working. Period.”
Silence fell. Margaret shot Michael a helpless look. He cleared his throat. “This casserole is splendid, Emily. Margaret must get the recipe.”
The rest of the evening passed in stiff small talk. After the guests left, Emily cleared the table in silence.
“How long were you hiding this?” Daniel blocked the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.
“I wasnt hiding. I waited for the right time.”
“Which was when? After youd already started?”
“Why are you so angry? Its just a jobnot an affair!”
“Because we had an agreement,” he snapped. “Youd tend the home; Id provide. That was the deal.”
“That was twenty years ago!” she cried. “The children are grown. I need to feel useful!”
“So home isnt useful?” he stepped closer. “Youre bored being my wife? Want freedom? New friends?”
“What? This is about fulfillment”
“I know all about that,” he sneered. “Seen it at the office. First comes the job, then the office flings, then divorce.”
“Good Lord, Daniel.” She stared. “You think Id take a lover at a library? Among dusty books and elderly patrons?”
“Im saying no to this job. End of discussion.”
Something inside her snapped.
“Then Ill take it anyway,” she said softly. “Tomorrow, Ill call Michael.”
Daniel gaped. “What did you say?”
“Im taking the job. Not for money or friendsbut to feel human again.”
“So youve decided,” he said slowly. “Without me.”
“You wouldnt listen.”
“Fine.” He stormed out, returning moments later with her coat and handbag.
“Your times up,” he said, pointing to the door. “If you make decisions alone, you can live alone. Get out.”
“Youre throwing me out over a library job?”
“Im throwing you out for betrayal,” he spat. “For trampling our vows. For choosing selfish ambition over family.”
“Selfish?” Tears welled. “Its a tiny job, Daniel! Youre never home, the children are gonewhat am I to do? Bake cakes in an empty house?”
“Take up macramé!” he roared. “But our deal stands. I work; you stay home.”
He thrust her coat at her. “Since Im so dull, go stay with Margaret.”
Mechanically, she dressed. This couldnt be real. Theyd fought beforebut hed never kicked her out.
“Youre serious?” She searched his face. “Over a job?”
“Youve disrespected me and our vows,” he said coldly. “Go.”
She took a shaky breath and turned to the door. Then paused.
“You know whats saddest? You never asked why I wanted this,” she whispered. “You just forbade me, like Im property, not your wife.”
“Why then?” he mocked.
“Because Im afraid,” she said. “Afraid one day you wont come home. That youll leave me for that young editor youve been staying late withwhats her name? Sarah?”
Daniel recoiled. “What rubbish is this?”
“She calls every evening. You take the calls on the balcony, but the walls are thin, Daniel. And I hear well.”
She stepped out, gently closing the door. The hallway was quiet, save for a neighbors jazz drifting downstairs.
Outside, the night air was cool. She inhaled deeplyand felt an odd relief, as if shrugging off a weight carried years.
Pulling out her phone, she dialed Margaret. “Its me. Sorry for the hour… Yes, we talked. Can I come over?”
Walking to the bus stop, she marveled at lifes twists. That morning, shed assumed shed live out her days in that house, with that man. Now she walked into the nightfree in a way shed never felt.
Her phone buzzedDaniels name flashed. She hesitated, then declined the call and walked on.
Her time was up. The time of fear, doubt, silence. Now began something newterrifying, uncertain, but hers. And she was ready.
