Milly, dont worry so much, David wrapped his arms around his wifes shoulders and pressed her close. We still have plenty of time ahead of us. Well have children someday, a little one who will look a great deal like you and me. Do you hear me? It will happen, he whispered.
Maude nodded, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She wanted to believe his words; she truly did. Yet a cold, heavy weight had settled deep inside her, making each breath feel shallow. Three years of marriage. Three years of hope, of disappointment. Three endless trips to doctors, countless tests, examinationsnothing to show for it.
I know, Maude answered softly, though even she was no longer certain of the truth.
David kissed the top of her head; a brief warmth flickered across her face. Now it seemed to Maude that he was merely wearing a mask, hiding his own frustration and anger.
At first David kept his promises. He stayed by her side, supported her, brought flowers for no reason, cooked a Sunday breakfast, held her through the night when she wept into her pillow after yet another negative test. He was kind, patient, loving.
Gradually things shifted, almost imperceptibly. David began staying later at the office, then excuses for frequent trips away on business grew common. He stopped pulling her into his arms at dawn, withdrew when Maude tried to nestle against him on the sofa. Their conversations grew short, formal, reduced to oneword answers and vacant gazes.
Maude pretended not to notice, convincing herself it was only temporary. She told herself David was simply exhausted by the endless strain, the waiting, the letdowns, and that everything would smooth out if she only waited a little longer.
And so a year and a half slipped by.
One more thing, Maude, David said one evening as she washed the dishes after supper, his tone unusually solemn and official. She turned slowly, plate in hand.
What about? she asked, her own voice sounding foreign.
Im filing for divorce.
Four words. Four simple syllables, and Maudes world shattered. The plate slipped from her fingers, shattering on the linoleum. She stared at David, eyes wide, trying to register the blow.
What? she gasped.
Sorry, he muttered, looking away. I cant go on. Im tiredtired of waiting, of hoping. This isnt the life I wanted. I still want children, a real family. But were not a couple any more. Were just two people sharing a roof. Its time to stop pretending everythings fine.
Maude sank onto a chair, her legs giving way, a hollow void yawning in her mind.
I dont blame you, she whispered. It just happened. But I cant keep pretending Im content. Forgive me.
David turned and left the kitchen. Maude heard him gathering his things in the bedroom, the soft click of the lock, and then silence.
Time blurred into a single grey smear. Maude kept going to work, cooked for herself, cleaned the flateverything she had always doneyet inside a gaping emptiness lingered. Loneliness wrapped around her like a chill fog, impossible to shake.
She blamed herself for the collapse, for not keeping the marriage together, for not giving David what he craved.
The only bright spot in that darkness was Ellen, a university friend they had both known since their first term. Ellen had always been there, bringing scones and tea after David left, sitting beside Maude, hugging her, listening without offering lecture or verdictjust being present.
Everything will be alright, Maude, Ellen would coo, smoothing Maudes back. Youll get through this. Youre strong.
Maude nodded, though she didnt truly believe the words, yet Ellens presence warmed her, reminding her she was not entirely alone.
They met regularlyonce a week at a café or a friends house. Ellen talked about her job, her husband, her plans; Maude listened, trying to feel joy for her, even as pain clenched her own heart. Ellens life seemed perfect: a loving husband, stability, the very family Maude had lost.
But slowly Maude noticed changes. Ellen answered messages less often, cancelled gatherings at the last minute, her smile grew forced, her eyes darted away. She rushed off, citing urgent errands.
It wasnt just Ellen. Their wider circle seemed to distance itself. The group chat fell silent; no one initiated a conversation with Maude. Invitations stopped. She felt invisible, as if everyone had collectively decided to ignore her.
Maude tried to shrug it off. Perhaps they were simply busy, each caught up in their own affairs. Yet a cold knot of anxiety settled in her chest and refused to loosen.
Then Ellens birthday arrived. Maude remembered the date clearly; they had always celebrated together since universitycake, champagne, presents, laughter until the early hours. A tradition that had endured for years.
That year, however, no invitation came. No call, no message, nothing. Maude waited hoping Ellen might have simply forgotten to reach out, but the phone stayed mute all day.
That evening, Maude could no longer hold back. She bought the scarf Ellen had long admired, wrapped it in pretty paper, and drove to Ellens flat simply to wish her well, to show she still cared.
From the stairwell she heard muffled music and voices the party was in full swing.
She paused, gathering courage, then knocked. The sounds inside continued unabated. After a minute the door swung open.
Ellen stood there, elegant in a dress, a glass of champagne in her hand. Her smile froze the instant she saw Maude, eyes widening in startled surprise.
Maude, Ellen breathed. What… what are you doing here?
I came to wish you happy birthday, Maude replied, offering the gift, forcing a smile despite the knot in her throat. Happy birthday.
Ellen hesitated, then turned away, blocking the doorway, her expression flat as if she wanted to push Maude out of the room.
Thank you, but Ellen stammered.
Why wasnt I invited? Maude demanded, the restraint finally snapping. We always celebrated together. Whats happened, Ellen? Why am I being ignored?
Ellen looked away, ran a hand through her hair. Laughter drifted from the living room. Maude peered inside. What she saw made her freeze.
David stood by the side table, arm around a fairhaired, smiling woman. He leaned in and kissed hera lingering, gentle kiss.
Maudes breath caught. The world tilted. David was here, at Ellens birthday, with another woman. And she had not been invited.
Ellen seized Maudes hand, pulling her toward the hallway, closing the door behind them.
Listen explain whats going on? Why is he here? Why didnt you invite me?
Ellen exhaled heavily, leaning against the wall, annoyance and embarrassment flickering across her face. She glanced away.
We became friends with David after your marriage fell apart. You know, he was my best friends husband. We talked a lot, and after the split we didnt want to cut him off completely. Hes a decent chap, interesting company. So we kept the friendship.
So you chose his side, Maude finished, her voice icecold. You chose him, didnt you? Weve been friends since university, Ellen. How could you?
Maude, it isnt that simple, Ellen replied, arms crossed. Being with him is less draining. He doesnt dwell on problems, he doesnt complain nonstop. Honestly, nobody wanted to listen to your endless grievances any longer. We were all weary of that heavy atmosphere. We thought it would be easier for everyone if we moved on.
Ellens tone was flat, as if discussing the weather.
And besides, Ellen hurried on, eager to end the conversation, Davids life is sorted now. Hes back in a relationship, soon to be married, his partner expecting a child. Everythings perfect for him. If we were all together here, it would be awkward. We just wanted to avoid drama.
Maude nodded slowly, mechanically. Inside, something finally snapped. David would soon be a father, his new life set, the very future he had once wished for with her. And Maude realized she was now unnecessary to anyone.
I understand, she whispered, handing Ellen the wrapped scarf. Take it. Happy birthday.
Ellen took the box without meeting Maudes eyes.
For years of friendship you could have said this to my face, Maude continued, her gaze steady. Not hide behind excuses only when the truth surfaces. I thought we were honest with each other. Apparently, I was wrong.
Ellen remained silent, eyes fixed on the floor, clutching the gift.
Congratulations, Maude finished, turning toward the stairs. I wish you happiness. Enjoy your celebration. From me
Her footsteps echoed down the stairwell. She clutched the railing, legs trembling, breath ragged, desperate to reach the street.
Cold night air filled her lungs as she stepped out onto the deserted pavement. The tears she had held back for months burst forth, hot and relentless, streaming down her cheeks. She walked aimlessly, sobbing for the pain, the betrayal, the isolation.
In less than a year she had lost her husband and, it seemed, every friend she had trusted. The old proverb surfaced in her mind: A friend in need is a friend indeed. It turned out she had none left, perhaps never truly had.
Maude wiped her eyes and trudged home, to a place where no one awaited her. Yet a faint thought lingered in her heart that this, too, would pass, and that every ending might someday serve a greater good.
