She could not have changed so completely! When Oliver spotted his former wife, his throat went dry.
No, it cant be her. I cant believe Blythe would look like that, he whispered, frozen before the glass façade of an expensive Mayfair restaurant, watching his exwife from the shadows.
The elegant blonde sat by a window, her fingers dancing over a laptop. A waiter placed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a small cake topped with raspberries and strawberries on the table.
How does she look so polished? And that chic bracelet on her wristmust have cost a fortune. Oliver bit his lip, edging away so she wouldnt see him.
***
Oliver and Blythe had met six years earlier. He had just left university and taken a job with a wellknown construction firm, his career taking off like a hot air balloon.
At a trade show for heavy machinery, Oliver struck up a conversation with a pleasant young woman working a booth.
What do you think of these excavators? Shall we get a coffee instead? the man suggested cheerfully.
They chatted, and Blythes shy smile caught Olivers eye.
Exactly the kind of woman I needquiet, agreeable, ready to obey. Shell be the perfect, devoted wife, he thought. Shes a bit round, but a gym will fix that. And if she ever rebels after the children, Ill find a lover. He handed her a coffee cup and smirked.
What are you doing here at the exhibition? Oliver asked as they stepped outside.
I write short stories, hoping one day to be a screenwriter, Blythe replied, her blue eyes shining.
Ive just finished my literature degree, still learning the ropes. I still have to pay the rent.
Great. She has no house, no carjust a grey mouse I could shape into anything: cooking, housekeeping, raising kids, obeying me without question. Oliver bragged to himself.
***
Later, Oliver bought a coffee from a kiosk across the street and perched on a bench, still watching Blythe. When she emerged, he could not believe his eyes. She glided in a fur coat of mink, her walk graceful, her aura transformed beyond recognition. Then she slipped into a sleek sports car, and Oliver was left speechless.
She must have found a rich husband. Thats the only explanation, he muttered, gulping his hot coffee and clutching the cup as if it might explode. Blythe vanished down the road.
That night Oliver lay awake. After the breakup, Blythe had blocked him on every social network. In a fit of desperation, he created a new account just to stalk her photos.
Envy, jealousy, hatred, ragehe downed half a litre of whisky and felt the full spectrum of negative emotions.
You could never have changed like this you were nobody, I lifted you from poverty, without money, without a flat, without looks. Where did those luxurious hotel photos, expensive bags, and jewelry come from? he scolded himself, eyes glued to her glamorous snapshots.
Did you lose ten kilos? Are those those perfect curves from plastic surgery or endless gym sessions? he snarled, phone clenched tight.
***
In the morning, a stray memory of a conversation with Blythe floated up.
Just nonsense, who reads this? Oliver said after reading a new short story shed posted.
Theres no accounting for taste, Blythe replied meekly. I already have admirers of my work.
Admirers? With no brains, only simple stories will attract them, Oliver chuckled darkly.
Oliver, why are you like this? Blythes voice trembled. Weve been together a year and you cant accept that I might have my own thing. Im not criticizing your work, even though you disappear into it for days.
And thats exactly why, Oliver shouted. If you helped me with my business, Id spend less time in the office.
Thats an idea, Oliver snapped back, standing up. Enough of the useless writing. From now on youll stop your stories and start helping me.
How can you tell me Im not writing any more? Blythe froze at the window, shock rippling through her.
Exactly, Blythe. Playtime is over. If you want to keep our family, youll quit the idle scribbling and start serving me properly. Oliver glared.
But Oliver, my soul is in those stories I cant just bury my lifes work, Blythes eyes filled with tears.
I dont care. No one else needs it. Right now youre useless. From today Ill give you a list of tasks every morning, and youll do them for me, he ordered.
I dont understand any of this why are you taking away what matters to me? Blythe sobbed, turning away.
Ungrateful. Ive supported you for a year, bought you gifts, taken you on holidays. Either help me or fall flat on your face. Oliver snarled. No one forces you to stay, if you dont like it, the doors right there.
Blythe stood, wiping her cheeks with the cuff of her shirt, and switched off her computer. Oliver never saw her pick up a pen again.
***
A year later Oliver had built connections and capital, some of it from selling his grandmothers cottage. He launched his own construction firm. From dawn till dusk Blythe, now his assistant, handled paperwork, presentations, and supervised workers.
Another year passed, and Oliver erected a suburban housing estate, making a tidy profit. He liked everything about his life with Blytheexcept her appearance. The constant pressure made her crave sweets; she ballooned in weight.
Where am I going with this piglet? Im ashamed to bring her out. She was already plump before the wedding, and now shes grotesque, Oliver told a mate in a pub.
Yeah, a sad sight, his friend replied, scrolling through a photo.
Time to bench her, Oliver muttered, installing a dating app on his phone. I thought Id have a side affair when Blythe had a baby, but shes turned into a nightmare. Disgusting.
A new lover, Harriet, appeared quickly. She was athletic and, on their first date, agreed to be Olivers new companion, even slipping away to a posh London restaurants bathroom for a tryst. Harriet was far more demanding than Blythe.
You love how I look, she whispered in Olivers lavish flat with panoramic nightcity views, a place he kept for secret encounters.
Of course, Oliver replied, trailing a featherlike fingertip down her back.
Ill need threehundred pounds for hair, manicure, a cosmetic, gym membership Harriet listed her expenses, but Oliver only stared at her beauty, already knowing he could afford any indulgence.
A month later Harriet had completely displaced Blythe from Olivers thoughts. He spent almost no time at home, where Blythe waited each evening.
I made pasta with your favourite pesto sauce, Blythe greeted him after a weeks holiday with Harriet. How was the business trip?
Fine, Oliver grunted.
I wont eat, he grimaced.
Lets get back to work. How are things? Blythes eyes now looked like a simple employees. She worked for free, yet Oliver demanded more from her than from any other staff.
Within a month Oliver grew sick of seeing her at the office; his business faltered. Perhaps he was spending less time on work, or his personal expenses had spiked, or fate itself was turning against him. Contracts fell through, partners left. In his frustration Oliver blamed Blythe and, in a scandalous divorce, stripped her of every penny. He threw her out in a single day.
Three years later, Oliver could not believe his eyes.
The photos show she now lives in a small village in Kent, owned by some wealthy bloke, he mused in his kitchen. I have a meeting with an investor nearby, her house is on the way Something feels off. A grey mouse cant just blossom into a rose. He sipped his tea.
A message pinged from Harriet, who had just returned from a holiday in the Emirates.
Oliver, we should break up. Ive met someone else. Its not personal. Ill have a friend collect my things.
And thats on my money! I paid for the trip! Oliver erupted, his hands shaking as he typed a furious reply, hurling the worst insults he knew.
Olly, youre emotional now. I understand. Lets talk calmly later. Ill block you for a whiledrama hurts my beauty, Harriet sang in a voice note and immediately blocked his number.
Rejected by the investor and in a foul mood, Oliver drove to the upscale gated community where Blythe now lived. After an hour in his car, smoking a pack of cigarettes, a luxurious vehicle pulled up to the gate.
What are you doing here? Blythe asked, bewildered, as Oliver knocked three times.
Just came to see how youve settled, Oliver muttered.
Blythes expression hardened. Oliver, desperate to peek into her new life, softened his tone.
I actually came to apologise. Ive realised a lot while you were gone. It all turned out badly.
Apologise? Blythe smiled thinly. You banned me from writing, I worked for you for free, cooked, cleaned, kept the house, believed in you when everyone said youd fail Then you threw me out in a day.
Fine, Oliver, apologise away, Blythe said, wrapping her arms around herself.
Maybe you could let me in? Its awkward otherwise, Oliver said, kicking a small stone.
Maybe I will, Blythe replied, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. You think Im sustained by anyone? No one feeds me. I bought everything myself.
Lies Oliver shouted, following her into the kitchen.
Whats surprising? That Im unworthy of my dreams? Blythe placed a glass of water on the table.
How did you change so much in three years? How could you earn so much to live like this? Oliver spun the glass.
I returned to writing, actually to screenplays. I penned a couple of pilots for film companies. They didnt think my work was rubbish. Blythe smiled, fixing her hair.
Im now one of the countrys most renowned screenwriters. My scripts are on the main channels. she added modestly.
So youre here to apologise, Blythe said, sitting opposite Oliver.
The oldest revenge, they say, is to outshine your enemies. Oliver felt crushed, a waterfall of rage washing over him anew. The breakup with Harriet, the investors rejection, Blythes meteoric riseall demanded an outlet.
You were a grey mouse, unattractive, talentless, without connections, without a flat You only succeeded because I pushed you, taught you life, Oliver muttered softly. Half of your success and money belongs to me.
Thats not an apology, Oliver, Blythe said, a faint grin. The only thing you gave me was a glimpse of how selfish people can be.
Youll get nothing from me, and its time you left. Blythe stood, pointing him toward the door.
You didnt understand, you rat. Open the safe or give me my half now, Oliver snapped, seizing her elbow and dragging her toward the lounge.
Let go, it hurts! Blythe shrieked.
The grey mouse must stay grey, Oliver hissed, pushing her onto the sofa.
Tell me where the safe is, or you wont leave this place alive, he threatened, brandishing a fire log from the fireplace.
Single women keep cats Blythe rubbed her elbow, meeting his gaze, and smiled. But Im not all women, Im different.
Doesnt matter what you are, Blythe. If you dont hand over the cash Ill break you. He snarled, the log glinting.
Youre laughing, Oliver, but I have dogs now, she replied, eyes drifting behind him. You havent met Chilli and Willy.
Two massive Dobermans stood a metre away, eyes gleaming. Chillis drool dripped onto the cold marble floor, while Willy growled low, already understanding the scene.
Chilli, Willy, thief. Lets go! Blythe shouted loudly.
If anyone had seen Olivers face at that moment, they would have witnessed his confidence crumble, his throat dry, his eyes begging. The dogs, hungry from the morning, waited for their breakfast. When Oliver tried to flee, his legs carried him only half a metre before the dogs lunged. A chaotic burst of fury, sirens, and flashing lights followed, the houses hidden cameras capturing every moment. Oliver was given a suspended sentence and never found his way back to Blythes world.
Rumours say Blythe now lives happily married to a talented director, expecting a child. They whisper that every successful woman has a man who broke her heart, and that the sweetest revenge is proving you can thrive without him. Whether thats true in our moonlit reality is for you to decide. One thing remains certain: if a person truly believes in themselves, everything will eventually fall into place.
