The clock struck midnight, though the hands had frozen long ago.
«Your times up,» the man said, pointing to the door.
«That smell again! I asked you not to smoke indoors!» Emma flung the sitting room windows open, the curtains billowing like angry ghosts. «Good Lord, even the sofa reeks. What will Margaret and her husband think when they come for dinner?»
«What will they think?» John stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray with deliberate force. «Theyll think a proper bloke lives hereone who smokes now and then. Big deal.»
«Proper blokes, John Harrison, smoke in the garden or the street. They dont poison their family with it. My head aches after your smoking.»
«Here we go,» John rolled his eyes. «Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly its a problem. Maybe its the menopause, love.»
Emma stiffened, lips pressed tight. Lately, hed wielded her age like a knife, always finding the softest spot.
«Whats that got to do with anything?» She turned to the window, hiding the wet shimmer in her eyes. «Im asking for basic respect. Is stepping outside really so hard?»
«Respect?» He scoffed. «Wheres yours for me? After work, I want to sit, have a cuppa, and smoke in peace. Not run about like a schoolboy. Its my house!»
«Our house,» she corrected softly.
«Right, ours,» he conceded, grudging. «Except I pay the bills. The mortgage. That new coat of yoursmy money too.»
Emma inhaled deeply. This argument was as worn as the rug beneath them. She hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst the children, then his ailing mother, then habit. And he never let her forget it.
«I dont want another row,» she sighed. «Just smoke in the garden. Margarets asthmaticitll be hard for her to breathe.»
«Fine,» John relented, oddly light. «For your precious Margaret, Ill step outside. But just tonight.»
He rose, tossing over his shoulder, «And whyd you invite them anyway? Big meeting tomorrowI need sleep, not to entertain your dull friends.»
«Theyre not just friends. Michaels head librarianhe might help me find work.»
John turned slowly. «What work?»
Emma hesitated. Shed meant to tell him later, when things were settled. Now words tumbled out. «I want a job at the library. Three days a week. The children are grown, youre never home»
«Wholl manage the house?» he cut in. «The cooking, cleaning, laundry?»
«Ill manage,» she forced a smile. «Its only part-time. And the children hardly visit now»
«Rarely, but your mums here weekly,» he grumbled. «Expecting shepherds pie and roast dinners.»
«She helps,» Emma countered. «Besides, she doesnt visit that often.»
«Could be daily for all I care,» John waved a hand. «But this work nonsenseits daft. Youre forty-seven. Stay home, knit, read your books»
«My books?» Something hot surged inside her. «John, do you remember I have a degree in English? First-class honours? That I taught literature before the children?»
«Taughtso what?» He flopped back into his armchair. «That was twenty years ago. Times change. Whod hire you with that dusty diploma?»
«The library,» she repeated. «I dont need riches. I need purpose. To feel Im more than a housemaid starching your shirts.»
«Charming,» John sneered. «So home and family are beneath you now?»
«You know thats not what I meant,» she said wearily. «Lets talk later. The guests will be here soon.»
In the kitchen, her pulse throbbed. Every conversation lately spiraled into combat. When had it started? Somewhere between universitywhere theyd bonded over Keats and Yeatsand now, two children and a lifetime later, theyd become strangers sharing a roof.
Margaret and Michael arrived promptly at seven. Michael, a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, launched into politics with John. Margaret, birdlike and sharp-eyed, helped Emma in the kitchen.
«Hows John taking the job idea?» Margaret diced tomatoes.
«He wont hear of it.»
«Men hate change,» Margaret shrugged. «Especially when it ruffles their nest.»
«Nothing would change. Id still keep housejust a few hours out, three days a week.»
«To him, thats Armageddon,» Margaret chuckled. «Imaginecoming home to an empty house! The horror!»
They laughed, tension easing.
Dinner began civilly. John was all charm, joking, asking Michael about new releases. Emma dared to hopemaybe todays tension was just a mood.
«Speaking of books,» Margaret turned to Emma. «Have you told John about the reading group?»
«What group?» Johns fork paused mid-air.
Emmas stomach dropped. «We discussed me leading a childrens literary circle. At the library.»
«And when was this happening?» Johns voice darkened.
«Next month,» Margaret answered, oblivious. «Twice weekly, two-hour sessions. Barely any time.»
«Fascinating,» John set his cutlery down. «Were you planning to consult me, or is this a solo decision?»
«I tried today,» Emma murmured.
«Didnt hear much consulting,» John addressed the guests. «You see, Emmas taken a sudden fancy to working. At her age, its unwise.»
«Why?» Michael frowned. «Emmas highly educated. We need people like her.»
«Perhaps,» John nodded. «But shes duties at home. To her husband.»
«John,» Emmas cheeks burned. «Not in front of»
«Whats the issue?» Johns gaze swept the table. «Were all adults. Ill be clear: I wont have my wife working. Full stop.»
Silence. Margaret shot her husband a helpless look. Michael coughed. «This roast is superb, Emma. Margaret must get the recipe.»
The evening limped onweather, news, anything but the unspoken rift.
When the guests left, Emma cleared the table in silence.
«How long were you hiding this?» John loomed in the doorway.
«I wasnt hiding. I waited for the right moment.»
«And when was that? After youd signed the contract?»
«Why are you so angry?» She faced him. «Its just a job, John. Not an affair. Not a crime.»
«To me, its betrayal,» he said flatly. «We agreedyoud keep house, Id provide. That was the deal.»
«Twenty years ago!» Emma cried. «The children are gone. I have time. I need to feel useful!»
«Useful?» He stepped closer. «Say it plainlyyoure tired of being my wife. You want freedom. New men?»
«What? This isnt about»
«Ive seen empowered women at the office,» he cut in. «First its work, then office flings, then divorce.»
«Christ, John,» Emma gaped. «You think Ill take a lover between dusty books and elderly patrons?»
«I think,» he said coldly, «you wont work. End of discussion.»
Something inside her snapped.
«Then heres my answer,» she said, eerily calm. «Im taking the job. Tomorrow, Ill call Michael and accept.»
John stared. «What did you say?»
«Im working. Not for money or men. To feel like a person againnot a fixture in your house.»
«Right,» John nodded slowly. «Youve decided. Without me.»
«I tried deciding with you. You refused to listen.»
«Brilliant.» He stormed off, returning with her handbag and coat.
«Your times up,» he said, pointing to the door. «If you make choices alone, you can live alone. Get out.»
«Youre throwing me out over a library job?»
«Im throwing you out for betrayal,» he said crisply. «You broke our vow. Put yourself before family.»
Emmas vision blurred. Theyd fought beforebut never this.
«Are you serious?» She searched his face. «Over a part-time job?»
«Over disrespect,» he repeated. «Now go.»
She slipped on her coat, numb. The hallway clock ticked loudly. At the door, she turned.
«The saddest part? You never asked why I need this. You just forbade melike Im property, not your wife.»
«Enlighten me,» he challenged.
«Because Im terrified,» she whispered. «Terrified youll leave me one day for that young editor you stay late withwhats her name, Sarah? The one who calls every night. You think I dont hear you on the balcony? Walls are thin, John. And I listen well.»
He recoiled. «What rubbish is this?»
She walked out, shutting the door softly.
The night air was cool, cleansing. Her phone buzzedJohns name flashed. Emma hesitated, then declined the call and powered off.
Her time was up. The time of fear, of silence. Now began something newterrifying, uncertain, but hers alone. And for the first time in years, she breathed freely.
