Emily stared at Andrew, her eyes drilling into him as he knotted his shoes.
Off to the kids again, love? Not to her, Andrew muttered, pulling the laces tight. How many times do we have to go over this?
Emily stayed silent, her lips a thin line. She had a thousand things to say, but the words got stuck in her throat, forming a painful knot.
Before we got married, you signed up for this, Andrew went on, rising and grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. You knew I had children. I told you straight away. You said you understood. And now youre having fits? Interrogations?
Emily clenched her teeth even harder. Andrew threw the jacket over his shoulders and, without waiting for an answer, headed for the door. The lock clicked and she was left alone.
A few seconds passed before Emily could even shift her weight. Her legs felt like theyd been filled with lead. She flopped onto the sofa, turned on a mindless sitcom, and let the background chatter drown out her thoughts.
Theyd been together three years, two of those as husband and wife. And yes, shed known from the start divorce, two kids, a boy and a girl. Andrew had mentioned them on their third date. Emily had smiled then, saying it was no problem, that she understood, that children werent a hurdle.
Now those words seemed naïve, almost foolish.
She covered her eyes with her hand, inhaled deeply. Holding back tears grew harder; her chest tightened as if an invisible slab were pressing down.
Eventually, the situation became unbearable. Twice a week Tuesday and Saturday Andrew would disappear to his exwifes house, ostensibly to see the kids. In practice he lingered for dinner, lingered with his ex, Olivia. Emily knew it was ridiculous. She trusted him, or at least tried to convince herself she did. Yet a vague foreboding settled in her stomach, making her feel sick.
When Andrew left, Emily was alone in the flat, berating herself for not standing her ground, for giving in to his promises, for staying quiet when she should have shouted.
She grabbed her phone and shot a quick text to her best mate.
Hes there again.
The phone buzzed incoming call. Lucy.
Hello? Emily answered, trying not to let her voice wobble.
Emily, what are you doing? Lucy cut straight to the chase. How long can you endure this? Hes cheating you, isnt he?
No, Lucy, you dont get it Emily began, but Lucy interrupted.
I get it perfectly. He goes to Olivia twice a week, stays till night. And youre supposed to believe theyre just playing Lego with the kids?
Emily ran a hand over her face. She knew Lucy was right, but saying it out loud would admit her marriage was a farce.
He says theres nothing between them, Emily whispered. That hes only there for the children.
Darling, youre being terribly naive, Lucy sighed. Normal men dont spend half an evening at their exs. They pick up the kids, take them for a walk, then bring them back. Your husband is in Olivias kitchen, eating her borscht, probably holding her hand when the kids arent looking.
Lucy, enough, Emily snapped, squeezing the handset tighter.
Enough? Fine. Just remember my warning. Youll still stay, and when you do, dont say I didnt tell you.
The call ended. Emily stared at the ceiling while someone on TV laughed loudly, but she didnt care.
Andrew returned just before midnight. Emily heard him strip in the hallway, hear the splash of water in the bathroom. He slipped into bed beside her, and the sweet, cloying scent of a womans perfume wafted over her.
She didnt ask why he was late. She was too drained. Andrew, however, broke the silence, settling himself more comfortably.
Sorry Im late. Sophie needed a craft for nursery, so I helped, he mumbled, already halfasleep. She made a little pinecone sculpture. Looked rather funny.
Emily nodded in the darkness, though Andrew didnt see.
The pattern repeated for months: Tuesday, Saturday, off he went, back he came, trailing foreign perfume, offering flimsy excuses.
Then Andrew grew more sullen, withdrawn. Hed stare at his phone for hours, brow furrowed. Emily tried to ask what was wrong, but he brushed her off with muttering and retreated to another room.
A couple of weeks later he announced:
Listen, were going on a double date on Friday.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
With whom?
With Olivia and her new boyfriend.
A weight lifted off Emilys shoulders. So Olivia had someone? So Andrew wasnt with his ex? Was he not cheating? All her worries seemed pointless.
A smile spread across Emilys face. She turned to her husband, slipped her arms around his neck.
Fine, lets go.
Friday arrived quickly. Emily bought a new dress a lightblue, figurehugging number because she wanted to look decent, to show Olivia she was worthy of Andrew.
They met at a cosy café on the other side of town, the sort with wooden tables and soft lighting. Olivia was already seated with a man in his early forties, tall, athletic, with an easy grin.
Hi, Olivia stood, introducing, this is James.
She was immaculate slender, wellkept, undeniably attractive. James shook Andrews hand, and they settled down.
Emily felt a good vibe. The evening should have been smooth: introductions, small talk, then everyone heading home.
Instead the double date turned into a disaster.
All night Andrew acted as though he were trying to win Olivia back from James. He kept cutting James off, demonstratively showing he knew Olivia better.
James suggested ordering a pepperoni pizza. Andrew leapt in:
Olivia cant handle spice.
I know, James replied calmly. We already talked about that. You interrupted, didnt let me say it was for us. Lets get something else for Olivia.
Andrew persisted.
Remember, Olivia, that holiday we took to the coast with the kids? he blurted, ignoring James entirely. Mick brought a jellyfish onto the beach, thought it was a toy.
Olivia nodded, irritation flickering across her face.
Andrew, that was ages ago, she tried to steer the conversation away.
But Andrew kept narrating story after story about the kids, about choosing a pram, about sleepless nights when their son had colic.
Emily sat there, clutching a glass of water, each of Andrews comments striking a nerve. She could see Olivias patience wearing thin. Olivia tried to halt him with a look, to shift the topic, but Andrew seemed deaf to her.
And Emily realised: Andrew hadnt let go of his ex. He clung to the past, to the children, to the memories. She was the spare part, the temporary standin.
Her phone buzzed a banks automated call. Emily pretended to be speaking to her mother about an urgent matter.
Sorry, Ive got to go. Its important.
No one stopped her. Andrew didnt even turn. Emily slipped out of the café, hailed a taxi, and sped home.
In the flat she hauled out a large suitcase and began packing. She could no longer tolerate Andrews behaviour.
Andrew stormed back an hour later, angry, his eyes narrowing at the suitcase at her feet.
Whats this?
Emily lifted her gaze. Her eyes were dry; the tears had drained somewhere between the sweaters and jeans.
Im leaving, she said simply.
What? Where? Andrew demanded.
Anywhere but here, Emily replied, pulling on her jacket. Tonights outing opened my eyes. You still love your ex, or you simply cant let her go. I dont know which is worse.
What are you on about? Andrew began, but Emily raised a hand.
Enough. No more lies. I saw how you behaved. You tried to claim Olivia as yours in front of James. All night you made it clear theres still something between you two. I was the extra.
Andrew fell silent.
I wont be a backup plan, Andrew, Emily continued, gripping the suitcase handle. Im done. Im out.
Emily, wait, he pleaded.
No, she shook her head. I love you, but that love has burnt out. Ill keep at least a sliver of my dignity.
She crossed the threshold. Andrew watched, speechless, offering no protest, no plea, no explanation.
Emily flagged another taxi and headed to her parents house. In the back seat she watched the nightlit city pass by, thinking of one thing: at last, she was free.
