Just get tired of you, she whispered, but James Whitaker held his wifes shoulders gently, pulling her close. Dont worry, love, he murmured, pressing her against his chest. Weve got plenty of time ahead. Well become parents, and the baby will look just like us. Do you hear me? Itll happen.
Gwen Harper nodded, her face buried in his shoulder. She wanted to cling to his words, to believe them. Yet inside a cold, heavy weight had settled, choking her breath. Three years of marriage. Three years of hope, disappointment, endless trips to specialists, countless scans, and no result.
I know, Gwen whispered, though even she doubted the certainty behind the words.
James kissed the top of her head. Warmth flickered in her smile, but now it seemed he wore a mask, hiding his own frustration and anger.
At first James kept his promises. He was there, supportive, caring. Hed bring flowers for no reason, cook a proper English breakfast on lazy weekends, hug her through the night when she sobbed into the pillow after yet another negative scan. He was kind, patient, loving.
Gradually things shifted, almost imperceptibly. James began staying later at the office, then the occasional business trip, each one more frequent than the last. He stopped pulling her into morning embraces, pulled away when she tried to nestle into him on the sofa. Their conversations grew short, formalsingleword answers and a distant gaze replacing genuine talk.
Gwen tried to ignore it, convincing herself it was temporary, that James was simply exhausted by the endless strain, the waiting, the letdowns, and that things would improve. She told herself to be patient.
And so a year and a half slipped by.
Gwen, we need to talk, James said one evening as she washed the dishes after dinner.
She froze, a plate still in her hands, his tone too solemn, too corporate. Slowly she turned to face him.
About what? Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears.
Im filing for divorce.
Four words. Four simple words, and Gwens world collapsed. The plate slipped from her fingers, shattering on the tiled floor. She stood motionless, eyes wide, trying to process what shed just heard.
What? she gasped.
Sorry, James said, looking away. I cant go on. Im tiredtired of waiting, tired of hoping. This isnt the life I wanted. I want children, Gwen, a real family. But were not a couple anymore. Were just two people sharing a roof. Its time to stop pretending everythings fine.
Gwen sank onto a chair, her legs giving way, a void yawning in her mind.
I dont blame you, James continued quietly. It just happened this way. I cant keep pretending Im happy. Im sorry. He turned and left the kitchen. Gwen heard him gathering his things in the bedroom, then the soft click of the lock and silence.
Time blurred into one grey smear. Gwen kept going to work, cooking for herself, tidying the flatdoing everything shed always done. Inside, though, there was only a gaping emptiness. Loneliness wrapped around her like a cold fog she couldnt shed.
She blamed herself for the collapse, for not holding the marriage together, for not giving James what he wanted.
The only bright spot in that darkness was Claire Bennett, a friend from university. Theyd spent their student years together, swapping secrets, dreaming of futures. Claire was there the night James left, bringing scones and tea, sitting beside Gwen, hugging her, listeningoffering no advice, no judgment, just presence.
Everything will be alright, Gwen, Claire murmured, rubbing her back. Youll get through this. Youre strong.
Gwen nodded, though she didnt truly believe it. Still, Claires presence warmed her, reminded her she wasnt entirely alone.
They met regularlyweekly coffee at a corner café or a casual gettogether at someones flat. Claire talked about her job, her husband, her plans. Gwen listened, forcing a smile, even as pain clenched her heart. Claires life seemed perfect: a loving husband, steady career, the stability Gwen had lost.
But slowly Gwen noticed oddities. Claires replies grew infrequent, excuses to cancel appeared at the last minute, her smile seemed strained, her eyes darting. She hurried away, citing urgent matters.
It wasnt just Claire. Their whole friend circle drifted apart. The group chat fell silent. Nobody messaged Gwen first. Invitations stopped. She felt invisible, as if everyone had collectively decided to ignore her.
Gwen tried to tell herself they were just busy, each with their own life. Yet a chill of anxiety settled deep in her chest and wouldnt leave.
Then Claires birthday arrived. Gwen remembered the date vividly; theyd always celebrated together since universitycake, champagne, presents, laughter until dawn. A tradition stretched over years.
This year, however, there was no invitation, no call, no message. Gwen waited until the evening, hoping Claire had simply forgotten to text. The phone stayed mute.
At last, unable to bear the silence, Gwen bought a scarf Claire had long wanted, wrapped it in pretty paper, and drove to Claires flat just to wish her a happy birthday, to show she still cared.
On the staircase, muffled music and voices drifted down. A party was in full swing.
Gwen paused, gathering courage, then knocked. The sounds continued. A minute later, the door swung open.
Claire stood there, elegant in a dress, a glass of wine in hand. Her smile froze the instant Gwen appeared, eyes widening, clearly caught off guard.
Gwen? Claire breathed. What are you doing here?
I came to wish you happy birthday, Gwen said, handing over the gift, forcing a smile that felt like a clenched fist. Happy birthday.
Claire didnt take the present. She stood, blocking the doorway, looking at Gwen as though she were an unwelcome intruder.
Thanks, but Claire stammered.
Why wasnt I invited? Gwen snapped, the dam finally breaking. We always celebrated together. What happened, Claire? Why am I being ignored?
Claire looked away, running a hand through her hair. Laughter echoed from behind her. Gwens eyes drifted into the flat and froze on a scene that stopped her heart.
James stood at the kitchen table, arms around a blonde, smiling woman. He leaned in and kissed hera long, tender kiss.
Gwen could not breathe. The world swam. James was here, at Claires birthday, with another woman, and shed never been invited.
Claire grabbed Gwens hand, pulling her toward the stairwell, shutting the door behind them.
Gwen, listen Claire began.
Explain Explain whats happening. Why is he here? Why didnt you invite me? Gwen demanded.
Claire exhaled heavily, leaning against the wall, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flickering in her eyes. She glanced sideways.
We actually became friends with James while you and I were still married, Claire said slowly. He was my best friends husband. We talked a lot, and after the divorce I didnt want to cut him off. Hes a good bloke, interesting company. So we kept in touch.
So you chose his side, Gwen finished, her voice icy. You chose him over our years of friendship.
Gwen, its not that simple, Claire replied, arms crossed. Being with him is easier. He doesnt dwell on problems, doesnt complain. Honestly, no one wanted to hear your constant grievances any more. We were all exhausted by the heaviness. We thought this would be easier for everyone.
Gwen stared at her, barely recognizing the woman who once shared secrets over cheap university beers. The words came out flat, like a weather report.
And besides, Claire rushed on, eager to finish, James is doing well now. Hes in a new relationship, engaged, his partner is expecting. Everythings perfect for him. If we ran into each other here, itd be awkward for everyone. We just wanted to avoid drama.
Gwen nodded slowly, mechanically, as something inside finally shattered. James would soon be a father, with a new life, a new familyeverything hed ever wanted, the very thing he never achieved with her.
And Gwen realized she was now useless to everyone.
I understand, she murmured, handing Claire the gift. Here, take it. Happy birthday.
Claire took the box without meeting Gwens eyes.
For years of friendship, you could have said this to my face, Gwen continued, her gaze hardening. Instead you hide behind excuses only when the truth finally surfaces. I thought we were honest with each other. Looks like I was wrong.
Claire stayed silent, staring at the floor, clutching the present.
I wish you happiness, Gwen said finally, turning toward the stairs. Enjoy your life. From me
Her footsteps echoed down the stairwell, each step a heavy thud. She clutched the railing, legs trembling, breath ragged, desperate just to reach the street.
Cold air tore into her lungs as she stepped out of the building. Then the tears shed held back for months burst forth, hot and fierce, streaming down her cheeks. She walked the deserted London lane, not caring about direction, sobbing for the pain, the betrayal, the solitude.
In less than a year shed lost her husband, and, as it turned out, every friend she thought she could rely on. The old saying that true friends are revealed in hardship resurfaced in her mind. She realized she had no real friends leftperhaps she never had any.
Gwen wiped her eyes, heading home to a flat where nobody awaited her. Yet a faint thought lingered in her heart: this wasnt forever. And perhaps, as they say, everything happens for a reason.
