Youre an orphan, wholl step in for you? the man sneered, shooing me out of the house.
Wheres the money I gave you yesterday? David burst into the kitchen, his face red as a boiled beet.
Olivia turned from the stove where meatballs sizzled, fat droplets hissing on the hot pan.
What money? You never gave me anything.
Dont lie! Five thousand pounds for groceries! I left it on the dresser in the bedroom!
David, I didnt take that cash. Look again, maybe you moved it.
Ive turned the whole flat upside down! Its gone! You grabbed it and spent it on your trinkets!
Olivia switched off the burner and dabbed her hands on her apron. Four years of marriage had taught her to endure such accusations, yet each one still struck a raw nerve.
David, I didnt take your money. I have my own salary, why would I steal?
Salary! he snorted. Your pocketchange from the shop? Thats not a salary, thats an allowance!
At the doorway appeared Eleanor Thompson, the motherinlaw. She had been living with them for six months after selling her flat, claiming the cash was an investment in her sons business, though David only worked as a manager at a construction firm.
Whats all this racket? she asked, scanning the kitchen. Another fight?
Mum, she stole my five thousand pounds!
I didnt steal, Olivia whispered.
Eleanor stepped closer, appraising Olivia from head to toe.
David didnt give me any money yesterday. He handed it to me for safekeeping because you, dear, cant handle cash. Youd waste it all.
Olivia felt a hollow tightening inside. Again. Again they were united against her.
Eleanor, if you took the money, just say it. Why pile the blame on me?
Are you calling my mother a thief? David snapped.
I never said that. I just want the truth.
Theres nothing to discuss, the motherinlaw said, pulling a bundle of notes from the pocket of her cardigan. Heres the cash. I took it so you wouldnt blow it on nonsense. David, take it and buy yourself a decent shirt, not the rags you parade to work in.
David slipped the money into his pocket without a glance at Olivia.
Thanks, Mum. You always look after me.
Olivia stood mute, a storm of hurt churning inside, though shed learned long ago to hide her emotions. In that house any display of feeling turned against her.
The meatballs are burning, Eleanor remarked. Everythings slipping through your fingers, you useless landlady.
Olivia returned to the stove. The meatballs were indeed blackening on one side. She flipped them, breathing evenly, refusing to break, to weep, to surrenderjust to do her part.
Four years earlier the world had been different. David courted her with flowers, took her to cafés. Olivia worked in the same supermarket she still tended now, a plain shopassistant with no qualifications, no connections. Shed grown up in a childrens home, earned a room in a council flat after leaving school, and landed a job. Life had been hard, but it was hers.
Then David appearedgoodlooking, confident, with a solid job. Hed noticed her while buying groceries, started chatting, joking, inviting her out. Olivia could scarcely believe her luck. A man like that and a girl from a childrens home, with no family, no past.
The wedding was modest. No relatives on Olivias side, just a flatmate from the council block. Davids side brought his mother, a few aunts and friends. Eleanor watched Olivia with thinly veiled disapproval, though she never showed it. That was then.
After the ceremony Olivia moved into Davids twobedroom flat in a council estate. She kept her job, ran the household, tried to be a good wife. Slowly, things shifted.
First the little naggingsshed oversalt the soup, not press the shirt enough, misallocate the money. Then the accusations: she spent too much, dressed poorly, was uneducated, clueless.
When Eleanor moved in, the atmosphere soured completely. She assumed the role of household ruler, critiquing every step Olivia took, meddling in everything, steering David against his wife. And David listened to his motheralways.
Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Olivia announced, setting the table.
Finally, David plopped down, eyes glued to his phone. Im starving like a dog.
Eleanor inspected the spread.
The salads watery, and theres barely any bread. Are you skimping on food?
I bought exactly what we need for the week, according to the list you wrote.
Dont argue with your elders. Young people today have no respect.
The meal passed in strained silence. David chewed mechanically, Eleanor sighed repeatedly, her displeasure evident. Olivia barely touched her plate; appetite had fled.
After dinner she washed the dishes while motherinlaw and son lounged in the living room, laughing at the television. Their mirth sounded distant, like a chorus in another room. Olivia felt like a servant whod been allowed to stay.
That night David retired without a good night to Olivia. She lay awake, staring into darkness. When had she become so unhappy? When had she stopped being a beloved wife and turned into a burden?
Morning came early, as usual. She prepared breakfast, packed Davids lunch, and watched him leave muttering something indecipherable.
Olivia, we need to talk, Eleanor entered the kitchen as Olivia sipped her tea.
Im listening.
This flat is too small for three. Its cramped.
I know, but we cant afford a bigger place yet.
Thats why David and I think you should find somewhere else to stay, at least for a while. Rent a room, perhaps. You have a salary, dont you?
This is my husbands flat. Im his wife.
Wife? Eleanor chuckled. What kind of wife? You cant have children, youre hopeless in the house, youre not pretty. David could do better.
David chose me, Olivia said quietly.
He made a mistake. People err. Mistakes must be fixed.
Youre suggesting I leave my husband?
Im offering you relief. Youll make his life easier. Were not divorcing; just a temporary split. Maybe thats best.
Olivia rose, hands trembling, trying to steady herself.
Ill speak to David.
Talk, talk. Hell agree, because its his idea.
All day at work Olivia rehearsed the conversation. Did David really want her gone? Did four years mean nothing?
Evening found her home earlier than usual. David was already there with his mother, tea between them.
David, I need to speak with you, alone.
Speak in front of Mum, she already knows everything.
This is about us.
David sighed, walked to the bedroom, and Olivia followed, closing the door behind her.
Your mother said you want me to leave. Is that true?
David turned to the window.
Its true. We need space. Mums here, Im uncomfortable, and you just occupy a room.
Im your wife!
A wife who hasnt given you a child in four years. A wife who works as a shopassistant and brings home pennies. What use are you?
David, the doctors said my health isnt the issue. You yourself
Shut up! he snapped, eyes flashing. Its your orphan background, your lineage! Who knows whats in your blood!
What does my orphanhood have to do with anything? My parents died in a crash when I was three. Im a normal, healthy person!
Normal, he sneered. No family, no roots, nothing. I married you out of pity, now youre a burden.
Tears rose, but she held them back.
So you want a divorce?
I want you out. Just out. Then well see.
Where should I go?
Back to the council hall, or rent a room. Your problem.
David, I love you. We can fix this, try again
Too late, Olivia. Its decided. Pack your things.
When?
Tomorrow. You have the evening to gather your stuff.
He left, leaving her alone on the bed they had shared for four years, where she once dreamed of children, of a happy family, of a future. Everything collapsed in an instant.
She began to pack: clothes into a suitcase, documents, a few pounds shed hidden, photos, books. How much of her own was left? Almost nothing.
Eleanor peeked in.
Smart girl. You understand everything. No need for drama.
I dont want drama, Olivia muttered, stuffing items.
Exactly. Slip out quietly. David will find another, proper wife from a respectable family.
Olivia said nothing. The motherinlaw had always deemed her unworthy and now she had won.
Morning arrived. Olivia dressed, grabbed her bags. David slept, Eleanor sipped tea.
Leaving?
Yes.
Leave the keys on the table.
Olivia placed the keys, stepped into the hallway, turned, stared at the flat that had been her home for four years. It would never welcome her again.
She descended the stairs, out into the early street, almost empty. Where to go? Her council flat was already occupied, a new tenant had moved in. Renting a room required money she only had a few pounds of.
She trudged to work, arrived early, slipped into the staff room, sat on a crate, bags beside her. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldnt comejust a hollow stillness.
Olivia? Why so early? Veronica, the store manager, appeared in the doorway, a stern yet fair woman in her fifties.
couldnt sleep.
Veronica squinted at the bags.
Whats happened?
Nothing, everythings fine.
Dont lie. Ive known you four years; I can tell when youre not being truthful. Speak.
Olivia poured out the storyhusband, motherinlaw, being thrown out. Veronica listened, nodding.
Youre a right bastard, she said when Olivia fell silent. Sorry about the language, but thats the truth.
I dont know what to do.
My daughter moved to another town; her room is empty. Stay with me until you sort things out.
Veronica Thompson? I cant
Just call me Veronica. Im not your boss now, Im a friend. Pack up after your shift, well go.
Olivia felt tears finally spill, warm and honest. Someone was on her side, offering help without asking for anything.
That evening they drove to Veronicas modest twobedroom flat on the outskirts. The spare room, once her daughters, was small, with a narrow bed, a desk, a wardrobe.
Make yourself at home. Fresh sheets, changed yesterday. If you need anything, just say.
Thank you so much. I dont even know how to thank you.
No need. We all get a hand up once.
Olivia arranged her few belongings, sat on the bed. The strange feeling of being in someone elses house was unsettling, yet far calmer than the husbands flat, where criticism and accusations lurked in every corner.
The next day David called.
Where are you? I need you to collect the rest of your stuff.
Ive taken everything.
Theres still a box left, your junk. Bring it today.
Cant. Work runs late.
Then tomorrow. Mum needs space for her things.
He hung up without asking how she was, where she lived, or if she was alright. Just a box and a command.
Olivia arrived after work the following day. David opened the door, handed her a cardboard box.
Here, take it.
Can I come in?
Why?
I want to discuss something.
He grudgingly let her pass. The flat smelled of unfamiliar spirits. In the lounge sat a young woman, twentyfive, immaculate, with an air of superiority.
Meet Lena, David said. Lena, this is Olivia, my exwife.
Exwife? Were not divorced yet.
Formalities. Ill file the papers soon.
Lena glanced at Olivia with barely concealed contempt. Youthful, beautiful, selfassuredeverything Olivia was not.
So youve already found a replacement, Olivia murmured.
Im not a replacement, Lena replied, rising. Im his girlfriend. Real, not some temporary fix.
How long have you been together?
David averted his eyes.
Six months.
Six months. While Olivia tried to be a good wife, he was already seeing someone else, lying, then simply casting her out.
You cheated, then blamed me for everything, Olivia said.
Dont make a scene. Youre an orphan, wholl defend you? David smirked, looking her over. No one will. So pack your box and get out.
Olivia took the box, hands trembling, the fury inside a boiling cauldron, but she showed no crack. She turned and left.
On the way back to Veronicas, tears streamed unchecked. How could he be so cruel?
Veronica greeted her with tea and a slice of cake.
Saw him?
Yes. Hes with another now, six months.
Bastard. Sorry, Olivia, but hes a total scoundrel.
He called me an orphan, said no one would stand up for me.
Veronica set down her cup.
Hes wrong. There are people who will. Me, the shop staff, even a stranger I just met.
Thank you, but whats the point? Hell divorce, marry again, forget me.
Thats the best outcome. Youll be free of that idiot and can build a proper life.
Later that weekend Veronicas friend, Alice, dropped by. Shed heard the saga and was outraged.
How can you evict someone?
Apparently you can, Olivia said, a sad smile flickering.
Have you spoken to the manager? We have a staffsupport scheme, you could get a grant.
I didnt know that.
Talk to Maria, the regional manager, on Monday. Shell help.
On Monday Olivia met Maria Stevens, the stores director. Maria listened, frowned, then said,
Those bastards. Ill arrange a hardship payment and a bonus this monthenough for a first months rent.
Thank you so much.
We dont abandon our own. Youre a good worker, honest, deserving of respect.
Olivia left the office with a lighter heart. The money would let her rent a tiny room and start anew, no longer a burden for anyone.
That evening a stranger called.
Olivia? Im Tamara, sister of Eleanor Thompson.
Im listening.
I heard you were thrown out. I disagree with that. My sister acted terribly, and my brotherinlaw as well. If you need anything, reach out.
Why?
Because Ive been there. My first husband drove me out too. I understand.
They talked long, Tamara sharing her story, offering advice. By the end, Olivia felt steadier.
A week later she found a room in a shared house. The landlady, an elderly woman named Zinnia, welcomed her warmly.
Live peacefully, my dear. I keep order but Im not a stickler. Just keep it tidy and quiet.
Olivia settled, hung pictures, arranged books. The space was small, modest, but it was hersno one belittling or pushing her.
David sent a text about the divorce; Olivia accepted the terms without demand. She just wanted the chapter closed.
Three months passed. Olivia adjusted to the new rhythmwork, home, occasional meetups with shop friends. Life was quiet, calm, free of shouting and accusations.
One day a man in his forties entered the shop, tall, spectacled, with a kindly face. He selected groceries, asked Olivia for advice, then returned several times.
You always help customers so attentively? he asked one afternoon.
I try, she replied.
Its rare to see such genuine care.
His name was Michael, a teacher at the nearby primary school, recently divorced and living alone. They began chatting, he invited her for tea.
Im not sure, Olivia hesitated. Ive just divorced.
No pressure. Just a chat, no strings.
They met at a café, laughed, shared stories. Michael was a good listener, never prying about her past.
Youre easy to talk to, Olivia.
Same here.
Their meetingsIn the quiet glow of the evening, Olivia finally felt the weight lift, as if the dream itself exhaled and let her step forward into a life she could call her own.
