She shoved her suitcase into the hallway and, for the first time in ten years, felt a flicker of freedom.
Eleanor, are you having a laugh? This is the third time this week!
The shop assistant stared at her with barely hidden irritation. Eleanor stood at the till, her face flushing and paling in turn, clutching a crumpled note that she had handed over for the fifth time.
Im sorry, but my husband only gave me £5 for groceries
Gave you! the assistant snapped, waving her hands. Youre fortyfive, and you act like a child! Your husband gave you permission!
You dont understand
I understand perfectly! Ive got a queue, and youre still debating how to stretch £5! Pick something and get out of here!
Eleanor snatched a loaf of bread and a jug of milk, paid, and bolted out of the shop. On the pavement she pressed her back against a wall, inhaled sharply. Tears threatened, but she forced them down. No crying. Not in public.
That evening Stephen came home from work in a sour mood. Eleanor met him in the hall, a handbag in hand.
Stephen, dinners ready. Ive made meatballs and potatoes
Fried again? he grimaced. My stomachs upset from your cooking!
You asked for meatballs yesterday
Yesterday I asked! Today Im fed up! Is it that hard to remember?
Eleanor fell silent, lowered her head, and slipped into the kitchen. Stephen flopped into an armchair in front of the TV.
And wheres the money? I gave you £4 this morning!
£3. You gave me three pounds.
Dont argue! I know what I gave!
Fine, three pounds, Eleanor said, not wanting a fight. I bought bread, milk, butter. Here are the receipts.
Stephen took the slips, scanning them.
Bread for £0.48? Why so expensive?
Its regular bread, Stephen
Regular costs thirty pence! You overpaid! Youre wasteful!
Eleanor bit her lip. Again. Another argument over receipts, over pennies. Every day the same.
Once, things had been different. Theyd met at work when Stephen arrived as the new department headhandsome, confident, successful. Hed noticed Eleanor and started courting her.
Lena, youre lovely. Shall we go for a coffee after work?
Id like that.
No talk of work, just us. I want to get to know you.
He was charming, showered her with compliments and flowers. After two failed relationships, Eleanor was eager to finally meet someone who seemed perfect.
They married quicklysix months after meeting. Eleanor thought shed found her destiny.
The first months were bright. Stephen was attentive and caring, though he sometimes made odd remarks.
Lena, that dress doesnt suit you. Its too bright.
I like it
It may be bright, but it looks vulgar. Wear something grey.
Eleanor changed outfits, trying to please him.
Then the criticism moved to the kitchen.
The soup is undersalted.
The meat is tough.
That salad is odd.
She bought cookbooks, watched recipe videos, yet Stephen always found something to pounce on.
One day he suggested she quit her job.
Lena, why work? I earn well enough to support us.
But I enjoy working
Working? You barely make pocket change! Stay home, run the house. The home is a mess, the food bland. Take care of it properly.
Eleanor gave in, resigned, and became a fulltime housewife. At first she liked the slower paceno early alarms, everything at her own rhythm.
But Stephen turned the house into a prison. Daily inspections, constant nagging.
Why is there dust on the shelf?
Why isnt the shirt ironed properly?
Why is lunch at one oclock, not twelvethirty?
She raced around, trying to meet his impossible standards. No matter what she did, he had a new complaint.
Money was the worst weapon. He gave her a fixed allowance£5 a week, at most £6, and demanded a ledger of every penny.
Where did the twenty pence go?
I bought a bun
A bun? We have bread at home!
I wanted something sweet
Wanted? Money isnt elastic! Next time ask permission!
Permission. Eleanor, an adult, had to ask her husband before buying a bun.
She tried to find work, attending interviews, but Stephen would show up and start fights.
Have you gone mad? You want to work! Who will keep the house?
I can manage both
You cant! Youre already sloppy! Stop daydreaming! Your place is the home!
He barred her from seeing friends, claiming they turned her against him.
Stephen, I want to go to Fionas birthday
Fiona? That tramp? Shes been married three times!
Shes my friend
No, she isnt! Friends support each other, not betray each other! You wont go!
Eleanor stayed away. Slowly, the invitations stopped. Friends grew distant.
Fiona tried to call repeatedly.
Lena, whats happened to you? Youve vanished!
Im just busy
Busy? You sit at home! Lets meet for a coffee!
I cant, Stephen wont like it
Forget Stephen! Lena, are you hearing yourself? Have you joined a cult?
Maybe she had, but the cult was her own home, and the guru was her husband.
Years passedfive, seven, ten. Eleanor became a shadow, moving silently, speaking in whispers, avoiding the light. The only things that kept her afloat were secret books, stolen moments of TV when Stephen was at work.
Then one day everything shifted. She was in the supermarket, selecting vegetables, when a familiar voice called her name.
Lena? Is that you?
She turned. It was Fiona, her best friend from before the marriage, whom she hadnt seen in eight years.
Fiona
Oh my God, Lena! Fiona embraced her. Where have you been? Ive been calling!
I know, sorry. I was busy.
Busy, Fiona said, eyes sharp. Are you alright? You look pale.
Im fine.
No, youre not. Youve lost weight, you look hollow. Whats happening?
Eleanor tried to joke, to change the subject, but Fiona grabbed her hand and led her across the road to a café.
Sit down, talk. No arguing.
At the table, Eleanor spilled the basics: the control, the petty accusations, the cashtracking. Fionas face grew darker.
Lena, thats domestic abuse. Psychological.
Abuse? He never hits me
It doesnt have to be physical. Hes destroying you mentally, monitoring your every move!
Maybe hes just demanding.
Demanding! Fiona slammed her fist on the table. Lena, wake up! Hes treating you like a servant! Are you a person or a robot?
A person
Then why let him treat you that way?
Eleanor had no answer. Love? Habit? Fear? The love had long since faded; only habit and terror remained.
Fiona, how do I leave? I have nothing!
You have yourself! Youll find a job, rent a flat!
At fortyfive? Who will need me?
Youre an accountant with experience! Youll find work. Want help? I have contacts.
Fiona did. Within a week she called with a lead: a small firm needed an accountant, decent pay, flexible hours.
Go to the interview. I spoke to the manager; hes willing to take you.
Eleanor applied, telling Stephen she was just going to the shop. The interview went well; the manager, a kind man in his fifties, looked over her résumé and asked,
Eleanor, why such a gap in your employment?
Family reasons. Home, husband
I see. Your experience is solid. Youll be up to speed quickly. Start Monday?
Absolutely!
She walked home that night buoyed, feeling a joy she hadnt known in years. Work, her own money, a taste of freedom.
But she still had to tell Stephen. He would surely fight it.
That evening, Stephen slumped in the doorway, eyes glued to his phone.
Stephen, we need to talk.
About what? he didnt look up.
Ive got a job.
Silence stretched. Stephen finally raised his head.
What did you say?
Ive got a job. Accountant. I start Monday.
Without my permission?
Im an adult, Stephen. I dont need your permission.
He sprang up, anger flaring.
No, I said you need it! Youre my wife! You should ask!
Ive already signed the contract.
Youll quit tomorrow!
I wont.
What?
Im done. Ten years of your control, your nitpickingenough!
Are you rebelling? he grabbed her shoulders. Who are you without me? I feed you, clothe you!
You give me £5 a week! With that I can only buy bread and water!
Stop whining!
I havent bought a new dress in five years! I wear rags while you splurge each month!
I have to look presentable at work!
So do I! Im a person too!
Stephen raised his hand, but stopped short of striking. He turned and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.
Eleanor stood in the kitchen, knees trembling, but a strange lightness filled her. She had spoken her truth for the first time in a decade.
Monday arrived. She walked into the office, Stephen silent, offering no farewell, no protest. At work the environment felt foreignoffices, colleagues, tasks. She felt out of place at first, but gradually settled, recalling old skills, learning new software.
Her coworker Irene, a woman her own age, became a friend.
Lena, hows it going? Managing okay?
Trying. Ive forgotten a lot over the years.
Youll pick it up fast. If you need anything, just ask!
A month later she received her first paycheck: £25. For many it was peanuts, for her it was a fortune. She held the envelope, stunned, feeling the weight of money earned by her own hands.
She went shopping, bought a bright new cardigan shed admired, quality groceries, even a small cake for no reason.
Stephen saw the bags, frowned.
Whats this?
Groceries and a cardigan.
Whered the money come from?
My salary.
He rummaged through the bag, pulling out the cardigan, inspecting it.
£15? For a piece of cloth! he shouted, tossing the cardigan onto the table. Wasteful! I told you to save!
Its my money. I earned it.
Not yours! Were a family. Everything is shared!
Then your money is shared too. Lets pool it.
Stephen fell silent, realizing hed been outmaneuvered.
Fine, do what you want, he muttered. But 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 looked at the cardigan, at the grocery bags, and smiled genuinely for the first time in years.
Months passed. She grew into her role, loved the work, made friends, joined colleagues for afterwork drinks and weekend cinema trips. Stephen huffed about those girls, but he could no longer dictate her life.
Again with your mates!
Theyre my colleagues, not your enemies.
Youre being brainwashed!
No ones brainwashing me. I see clearly now.
He grew angrier, sensing his grip loosening. One night, after a long shift, she lingered in the office, finishing a report. Stephen met her in the corridor, drunk and furious.
Where have you been?
At work. I stayed late.
Lying! You were with someone!
With whom? Stephen, youre drunk. Go to bed.
Im not drunk! he seized her wrist. Youre cheating! Admit it!
What are you talking about? No one! Let go!
He shoved her; she hit the wall. She rose, eyes cold, realizing staying would only bring more bruises.
Thats it, she whispered. Enough.
Enough what?
This marriage. Im leaving.
Where will you go? he sneered. 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 marched to the bedroom, opened her suitcase, began packing. Stephen stood in the doorway, bewildered.
Are you serious?
More than ever.
Lena, dont be foolish. Where will you be at eleven at night?
At Fionas. She let me stay.
That slut?
Shes not a slut. Shes a friend who helped me when I was at my lowest.
Eleanor zipped the suitcase, grabbed her coat and bag, and headed for the hallway. Stephen lunged, grabbing her arm.
Wait. Lets talk.
Theres nothing left to say.
Lena, please. Ill change.
How many times have you said that? Twenty? Thirty?
This time I mean it!
No, you wont. You cant see the problem, so you cant fix it.
She tore his hand free, flung open the door, and stepped onto the stairwell. Stephen chased after her.
Lena! Come back! Youll regret it!
Maybe. But not the way Id regret staying.
She descended the stairs, out onto the cold October street. The wind cut across her face. She stopped, breathed deeply.
Free. For the first time in ten years she truly felt free.
She called Fiona.
Fiona, can I come over? Ive left Stephen.
Come right away! Im waiting!
Fiona wept, listening to every detail, rubbing Eleanors back.
Lena, finally! Im so glad you did!
Its terrifying, Fiona.
Of course it is. But youll manage. Ill help.
Eleanor stayed with Fiona for a week, then moved into a modest studio of her own. It was small, but hers. No one monitored her, no one demanded reports. She could eat what she wanted, watch what she wanted, sleep when she wanted.
Stephen called the first few weeks, begging her to return, promising change. Then his tone turned threatening.
Youll regret this! Youll end up alone! Nobody needs you!
She cut the line, blocked his messages, refused to listen. She knew if she gave in, the cycle would resume.
At work colleagues noticed the shift.
Lena, you look brighter! Youre glowing!
Really?
Yes! Your eyes sparkle, you smile more.
She smiled back, genuinely. She began caring for herselfnew clothes, a salon visit, a manicure. Small pleasures shed forgotten.
The manager later offered a promotion.
Eleanor, the senior accountant position is opening. Would you consider it?
Me? Ive only been here half a year
In six months youve shown yourself capable, diligent, quick to learn. What do you think?
Ill take it!
Her salary rose to £40, a sum that still meant modest comfort but felt like wealth. She moved into a larger flat, bright walls, lively plants, a cosy rugher own little world where she was the ruler.
A year after the split, she ran into Stephen on the street. He looked older, gaunter.
Lena
Hello, Stephen.
How are you?
Fine. And you?
Ive remarried.
Congratulations.
Thanks. Im not sure its a celebration.
He suggested coffee to talk.
Maybe we could chat?
I dont think thats a good idea.
Why? Were adults
Exactly why. We have no common ground. The past is past.
I just wanted to apologise for everything.
Eleanor looked at him, saw genuine regret, perhaps a flicker of understanding.
Apology accepted. Take care.
She walked on, never looking back.
Now, more than a year after shed pushed her suitcases out the door, Eleanor sometimes recalls those ten years of fear, of believing she couldnt survive alone. She realises she was wrong. Alone is not frightening; it is liberating. She can breathe fully, be herself, without bending or appeasing.
There are moments of loneliness, occasional sadness, but its a gentle sorrow, not the suffocating dread of her marriage.
New friends surround her. Colleagues haveAnd as she strolled along the riverbank, the sunrise painting the sky in gold, she finally understood that her future belonged entirely to herself.
