Eleanor Miller slammed her suitcase against the wall of the flat and, for the first time in ten years, felt a flicker of freedom.
Mrs. Miller, are you having a laugh? the shop assistant snarled, clearly fed up. Thats the third time this week youve caused a scene!
Eleanor stood at the till, cheeks flushing, skin turning pale in rapid succession. She held out a crumpled £5 note, the one shed been handing over for the fifth time.
Excuse me, but my husband only allowed me £5 for groceries»
Allowed! the assistant snapped, tossing her hands in the air. Youre fortyfive, yet you behave like a child! He gave you permission!
You dont understand
I understand everything! I have a queue, and youre wasting time deciding what to buy with £5! Take something and get out!
Eleanor snatched a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk, paid, and bolted out of the shop. On the pavement she pressed her back against the brick wall, inhaled sharply. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them down. No crying in public.
That evening, Simon Clarke trudged home from a night shift, his mood as sour as the tea hed left on the stove. Eleanor met him in the hallway, holding the briefcase.
Simon, dinners ready. Ive made the mince pies and potatoes
Fried again? he grimaced. My stomachs revolting against your cooking!
You asked for mince pies yesterday
Yesterday I asked! Today youve changed your mind! Is it that hard to remember?
Eleanor fell silent, lowered her head, and slipped into the kitchen. Simon flopped into his favourite armchair, eyes glued to the telly.
Wheres the money? I gave you £6 this morning!
£5. You gave me £5.
Dont argue! I know exactly how much I gave!
Fine, £5, Eleanor said, not daring to contest. I bought bread, milk, butter. Here are the receipts.
Simon snatched the slips, studied them.
Bread for £0.80? Why so pricey?
Just regular bread, love
Regular costs fifty pence! You overpaid! Wasteful!
Eleanor bit her lip. Again, a fight over receipts, over pennies. Every day the same.
Once, things had been different. Theyd met at work when Simon arrived as the new department headhandsome, confident, successful. Hed taken notice of Eleanor, started courting her.
Ellie, youre lovely. Fancy a coffee after work?
Sure.
Just no talk about the office. I want to know you better.
He was charming, peppered his conversations with compliments, brought flowers. Eleanor, after two failed romances, fell hard. Simon seemed perfect.
They married quicklysix months after meeting. Eleanor thought shed finally found her destiny.
The first months were blissful. Simon was attentive, caring, though he sometimes made odd remarks.
Ellie, that dress doesnt suit you. Too bright.
I like it
Fine, but you look a bit gaudy. Try a grey one.
She changed outfits, desperate to please him.
Then the criticism moved to the kitchen.
The soup is undersalted.
The steaks tough.
That salad looks odd.
She bought cookbooks, watched tutorials, but Simon always found something to pick apart.
One day he suggested she quit her job.
Ellie, why work? I earn well, Ill support us.
But I enjoy my work
Your wages are peanuts! Stay home, run the house. The homes a mess, the foods bland. Take care of it properly.
She gave in, resigned, becoming a housewife. At first she liked the slower paceno early alarms, everything at her own rhythm.
But Simon turned that life into a nightmare. Daily inspections, control, nitpicking.
Why is there dust on the shelf?
Why isnt the shirt ironed properly?
Why is lunch at one oclock and not twelvethirty?
Eleanor raced to keep up, trying to please, but the goal was a moving target. Simon always had a new complaint.
Money was the worst weapon. He gave her a fixed allowance£5 a week, at most £7. He demanded a linebyline account of every penny.
Where did the extra £2 go?
I bought a bun
A bun? We have bread at home!
I craved something sweet
Cravings arent an excuse! Money isnt endless! Next time ask permission!
Permission. An adult woman forced to ask her husband for a bun.
Eleanor tried to find work, went to interviews, but Simon sniffed them out and sparked fights.
Are you out of your mind? You want a job! Who will keep the house?
Ill manage both
You wont! You always do things halfheartedly! Stop dreaming! Your place is home!
He barred her from seeing friends, claiming they poisoned her against him.
Ellie, I want to go to Mollys birthday
Molly? That tramp? Shes been married three times already!
So what? Shes my friend
She isnt a friend! Friends support families, not betray husbands! You wont go!
Eleanor stayed away. Invitations stopped. Friends grew distant, hurt, confused.
Molly tried to call repeatedly.
Ellie, whats happened to you? Youve vanished!
Just busy
Busy? You sit at home! Lets have a coffee!
Cant, Ellie. Simon wont like it
Forget Simon! Are you in a cult?
Maybe she was, but the cult was her home, and the guru was Simon.
Years passedfive, seven, ten. Eleanor became a shadow, moving silently through the house, speaking in whispers, trying not to be seen. The only things keeping her afloat were small joys: secret books, latenight TV when Simon was at work.
Then a turning point. Eleanor walked into the supermarket to pick up groceries, sorting through the veg, when a familiar voice called.
Ellie? Ellie, is that you?
She turned. Molly, her best friend from before the marriage, stood there, eyes wide.
Molly
Good heavens, you! Where have you been? Ive been calling, texting
I know, sorry. Ivebeen busy.
Busy, Molly said, stepping closer, studying her. Ellie, are you alright? You lookgrey.
Im fine.
No, youre not. Youve thinned out, you look drained. Whats happened?
Eleanor tried to joke it away, but Molly grabbed her hand and pulled her into a café across the street.
Sit down, talk. No arguing.
At the table, Eleanor poured out the control, the petty critiques, the constant accounting. Mollys face grew darker with each detail.
Ellie, thats domestic abuse. Psychological.
Abuse? He never hits me
Its not about fists! Hes crushing your spirit, micromanaging every step!
Maybe hes justdemanding.
Demanding!Molly thumped the tableWake up! He treats you like a servant! Are you a person or a robot?
A person
Then why let him treat you like that?
Eleanor had no answer. Love? No, love had long faded. Only habit and fear remained.
Molly, how do I leave? Where will I go? I have nothing!
You have yourself! Find a job, get a place!
At fortyfive? Who would want me?
Youre a qualified accountant! Youll find work! Ill help, I have contacts.
Molly kept her promise. A week later she called with a lead: a small firm needed an accountant, decent salary, flexible hours.
Go to the interview. I spoke to the director; hell take you.
Eleanor went, lying to Simon that she was just popping to the shop. The interview went well; the director, a respectable fiftyyearold named Mr. Harding, reviewed her résumé, asked a few questions.
Mrs. Miller, why such a long gap?
Family reasons. Husband, home
I see. You have solid experience. Well have you start Monday.
She left the office buoyant, feeling a joy she hadnt known in years. Work, her own money, freedom!
But how to tell Simon? He would surely object.
That evening, when Simon arrived, Eleanor summoned her courage.
Simon, we need to talk.
About what? he didnt look up from his phone.
Ive got a job.
Silence hung. Simon finally lifted his head.
What did you say?
Ive got a job. Accountant. Starting Monday.
Without my permission?
Simon, Im an adult. I dont need your permission.
He sprang up, anger flashing.
You dont need it? I said you do! Youre my wife! You should ask!
Ive already signed the contract.
Youll quit tomorrow!
I wont.
What?
I said I wont!Eleanor found a boldness shed never knownEnough! Ten years of your control, your nitpicking! Enough!
Youre rebelling? Simon grabbed her shoulders. Who are you without me? Nobody! I feed you, clothe you!
You give me £5 a week! Thats barely enough for bread and water!
Thats enough for you! Stop being greedy!
Greedy?Eleanor broke freeI havent bought new clothes in five years! I wear the same old things while you splurge on yourself every month!
I need to look decent for work!
I need to look decent too! Im a human being!
Simon raised his hand. Eleanor closed her eyes, bracing for a blow. He didnt strike; he turned and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.
She stood trembling in the kitchen, knees wobbling, yet a strange lightness filled her. She had spoken her truth for the first time in a decade.
Monday arrived. Eleanor walked into work. Simon didnt say a word, didnt forbid her. Perhaps he was waiting, watching.
The office was foreigndesks, colleagues, tasks. Eleanor felt out of place, but gradually she settled, recalling longforgotten skills, learning new software.
Her coworker, Irene, a woman of similar age, became a confidante.
Ellie, hows it going? Settling in?
Trying. Ive forgotten a lot over the years.
Dont worry, youll pick it up fast! If you need anything, just shout.
A month later, her first paycheck arrived: £25. To most it was a pittance, but to her it was a fortune. She clutched the envelope, disbelief swellingher own money, earned by her own hands.
She went back to the shop, bought a bright new cardigan shed admired, plus decent groceries, even a cake, just because.
Simon saw the bags, frowned.
Whats this?
Groceries. And a cardigan.
Whered the money come from?
From my salary.
He rifled through the bag, held up the cardigan.
How much?
£15.
£15 for a piece of cloth! Waste! I told you to save!
Its my money. I earned it.
Its not yours! Were a family, everythings shared!
Then your money is shared too. Lets pool it.
Simon fell silent, realizing his grip slipping.
Fine, do as you wishhe mutteredBut from now on you pay for your own food. I wont give you a penny!
Perfect. Ill pay myself.
He stormed out, slamming the door. Eleanor stared at the cardigan, at the grocery bags, and finally smiledtruly, for the first time in years.
Months passed. Work became enjoyable; colleagues turned into friends. She started joining them for afterwork drinks, weekend cinema trips. Simon muttered about those women again, but could no longer stop her.
Again with your ladies!
These are my colleagues, my friends.
Friends! Theyre turning you against me!
No ones turning me. I see clearly now.
What do you see?
I see I spent ten years in a cage. The cage is now open.
Simons anger grew; he sensed his control fading. One night, after a late shift, Eleanor returned home, tired but still working on a report. Simon met her in the hallway, drunk and furious.
Where have you been?
At work. Stayed late.
Lying! Youve been with someone!
With who? Simon, youre drunk. Go to bed.
Im not drunk! Youre cheating! Admit it!
What are you talking about? No one else!
Dont lie! I know everything! You have someone!
No one! Let go of me!
He shoved her. She hit the wall, then rose, looking into his eyesrage, desperation. In that instant she realized staying would only bring more violence. She could not change him.
Enough, she whispered. It ends now.
Ends what?
This marriage. Im leaving.
Where will you go? You have nothing!
I have a job, I have money. Ill rent a flat.
You wont survive a week without me!
I will. Youll see.
She trudged to the bedroom, opened the suitcase, began stuffing clothes. Simon stared, baffled.
Are you serious?
More than ever.
Ellie, dont be foolish. Where will you go at eleven tonight?
To Mollys. Shes let me stay.
To thatharlot?
She isnt a harlot. Shes a friend who helped me when I was at my lowest.
She zipped the suitcase, grabbed her bag and coat, and headed for the hallway. Simon lunged, grabbing her wrist.
Wait. Lets talk.
Theres nothing left to say. Its over.
Ellie, please. Ill change.
How many times have you said that? Twenty? Thirty?
This time, I mean it.
No. You dont see the problem, so you cant fix it.
She broke free, opened the door, stepped onto the landing. Simon followed, shouting.
Ellie! Come back! Youll regret this!
Maybe. But I wont regret staying trapped.
She descended the stairs, out into the cold October wind that slapped her cheeks. She stopped, took a deep breath.
Free. For the first time in a decade, she truly felt free.
She called Molly.
Molly, can I crash at yours? Ive left Simon.
Come right now! Im waiting!
Mollys flat became a safe haven. She poured out everything, and Molly soothed her, rubbing her back.
Ellie, you finally did it! Im so proud of you!
Its terrifying, Molly.
Of course its terrifying. But youll manage. Ill help.
Eleanor stayed with Molly for a week, then rented a modest studio of her ownsmall, but hers. She moved in, arranged her belongings, and for the first time in years she felt the calm of living alone.
No one demanded reports, no one controlled meals. She could eat what she liked, watch what she wanted, sleep whenever. Freedom.
Simon called in the first weeks, begging her to return, promising change. Then the calls turned to threats.
Youll regret this! Youll end up alone! Nobody needs you!
She cut the line, blocked every messenger. She knew listening would only pull her back.
At work, people noticed her glow.
Ellie, you look refreshed! You seem happier!
Really?
Your eyes sparkle, you smile more!
She indeed changed. She bought new clothes, visited a salon, got a manicuresmall joys shed forgotten.
One day, the director offered her a promotion.
Mrs. Miller, the chief accountant position is opening. Would you like to take it?
Me? Ive only been here half a year
InShe accepted the promotion, stepping into a future she once thought impossible and finally feeling the steady, empowering rhythm of her own heartbeat.
