**Diary Entry**
*Your times up,* he said, pointing to the door.
*That smell again! I asked you not to smoke in the house!* Margaret flung open the windows in the living room, waving the curtains in frustration. *Goodness, even the sofa reeks. What will Emily and her husband think when they come for dinner?*
*And what will they think?* Jeremy crushed his cigarette in the ashtray with deliberate force. *Theyll think a normal bloke lives hereone who smokes occasionally. Big deal.*
*Normal blokes, Jeremy, smoke on the balcony or outside. Not poison their family with cigarette fumes. My head aches after you smoke in here.*
*Here we go,* Jeremy rolled his eyes. *Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly its a problem. Maybe its the menopause, Maggie?*
Margaret froze, lips pressed tight. Lately, hed been needling her about her age more often, as if aiming for the sorest spotand always hitting it.
*Whats that got to do with anything?* She turned to the window, blinking back tears. *Im just asking for basic respect. Is it really so hard to step outside?*
*Respect?* He scoffed. *And wheres your respect for me? After work, I want to sit in my chair, have a cuppa, and smoke. Not run back and forth like a schoolboy. Its my house, after all!*
*Our house,* she corrected quietly.
*Right, ours,* he conceded grudgingly. *Except I pay the mortgage. And the bills. And for your new coat last winter.*
Margaret exhaled sharply. Shed heard this a thousand times. Yes, she hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst raising the kids, then caring for his mother, then… just settling into the rhythm of homemaking. And Jeremy never let her forget it.
*I dont want to argue,* she said wearily. *Just please smoke on the balcony. Emilys asthmaticitll be hard for her to breathe.*
*Fine,* he relented unexpectedly. *For your precious Emily, Ill step outside. But just tonight.*
He pushed himself up and headed to the bedroom, tossing over his shoulder:
*And why did you even invite them? Ive got an important meeting tomorrow. I need sleep, not to entertain your dull friends.*
*Theyre not just friends,* Margaret countered. *Henry runs the local library. He might help me find work.*
Jeremy stopped dead in the doorway. *What work?*
She hesitated. Shed meant to tell him later, once things were settled. Now she had no choice.
*I want a part-time job at the library. Three days a week. The kids are grown, youre always at the office… I need something to do.*
*And wholl manage the house? Cook, clean, do the laundry?*
*Ill manage. Its only a few hours. The children hardly visit now*
*But your mother does. Every week, expecting pies and roast dinners.*
*Mum helps! And she doesnt visit that often.*
*Whatever. But this job nonsenseits a whim, Maggie. Youre forty-seven. Stay home, do your knitting, read your books…*
*My books?* Her voice sharpened. *Do you even remember I have a degree in English? That I taught literature before the children?*
*So what? That was twenty years ago. Times change. Whod hire you with that old qualification?*
*The library would. I dont need a fortune, Jeremy. I need purpose. To feel capable of more than cooking and ironing your shirts.*
*Charming. So home and family mean nothing?*
*You know thats not what I meant. Lets talk later. Weve guests coming.*
She retreated to the kitchen, heart pounding. Every conversation lately became a fight. When had it started? Somewhere along the way, theyd stopped speaking the same language.
Once, it had been different. Theyd met at universityboth bookish, both dreaming. Jeremy wrote poetry; she adored it. Then came marriage, first Sophie, then Tom. He climbed the ranks at the publishing house. She stayed homewith nappies, chores, and books that gathered dust.
She hadnt noticed him changing. The romantic boy hardening into a cynical man, more interested in deadlines than her thoughts. By the time she noticed, it was too late. They were strangers sharing a roof.
Emily and Henry arrived promptly at seven. Henryburly, beardedlaunched into politics with Jeremy. Emily, birdlike and bright, followed Margaret to the kitchen.
*Howd Jeremy take the job idea?*
*Badly.*
*Hardly surprising. Men hate change that inconveniences them.*
*Nothing will change! Ill still run the house.*
*To him, its catastrophe. Coming home to an empty housethe horror!*
They laughed, and Margaret relaxed. Emily always steadied her.
Dinner began civilly. Jeremy was charm itself, joking, asking Henry about new releases. Margaret dared to hope.
*Speaking of books,* Emily said, *have you told Jeremy about the reading group?*
*What group?* Jeremys fork froze.
Margaret hesitated. *Id lead a childrens book club. At the library.*
*Starting when?* His voice turned dangerous.
*Next month. Twice a week,* Emily answered blithely.
*Fascinating. And were you planning to discuss this with me?*
*I tried today,* Margaret said quietly.
*I dont recall a discussion.* Jeremy turned to their guests. *Margarets obsessed with working lately. At her age, its… unwise.*
*Why?* Henry frowned. *Shes highly educatedwed value her.*
*Perhaps. But she has responsibilities. To me.*
*Jeremy,* Margaret flushed with shame, *not in front of*
*Whats the issue?* Jeremys smile was icy. *I forbid my wife to work. Full stop.*
Silence. Emily shot Henry a helpless glance. He cleared his throat. *This pie is excellentLydia should get the recipe.*
The rest of the evening passed in stiff small talk. When the guests left, Margaret cleared the table in silence.
*How long were you hiding this?* Jeremy leaned in the doorway.
*I wasnt. I waited for the right time.*
*Which was when? After youd started?*
*Why are you so angry? Its just a jobnot an affair!*
*To me, its betrayal. We agreed: you keep house, I provide. That was the deal.*
*Twenty years ago! I want to feel useful again.*
*Useful?* He stepped closer. *Or free? Hunting new friends? New men?*
*What?* She stared. *This is about fulfilment*
*I know all about fulfilment. Women at workfirst the job, then the affairs, then divorce.*
*Christ, Jeremy!* She laughed incredulously. *You think Ill seduce someone in a library?*
*Im saying no. End of discussion.*
Something inside her snapped.
*Im taking the job. Ill call Henry tomorrow.*
Jeremys face darkened. *Youve decided. Without me.*
*I tried deciding with you. You wouldnt listen.*
*Fine.* He stormed off, then returned, thrusting her coat and handbag at her.
*Your times up. If you make decisions alone, you can live alone. Get out.*
*Youre kicking me out over a library job?*
*Over betrayal. Over putting yourself first.*
*Myself?* Tears welled. *This tiny job is so I dont lose my mind! Youre never here, the kids are gonewhat am I supposed to do? Bake cakes for an empty house?*
*Take up crochet!* he roared. *A deals a deal. I work, you dont.*
He shoved the coat at her. *If Im so boring, go. Maybe Emily will take you in.*
Mechanically, she dressed. This couldnt be real. Theyd fought beforebut never like this.
*Are you serious? Over a job?*
*Over disrespect. And yes, Im serious. Go.*
She inhaled sharply, then turned to the door. Paused.
*The saddest part? You never asked why I want this. You just orderedlike Im property, not your wife.*
*Enlighten me,* he sneered.
*Because Im terrified.* Her voice dropped. *Terrified youll leave me for that young editor youve been staying late with. And Ill be aloneno job, no money, no purpose. Because I gave everything to you.*
He recoiled. *What editor?*
*Claire. She calls every night. You take it on the balconybut the walls are thin, Jeremy. And I hear.*
She stepped out, shutting the door softly. The hallway was quiet, save for a neighbours jazz drifting downstairs.
Outside, the night air was cool. She breathed deeplyand felt an odd lightness, as if shrugging off a weight carried for years.
She dialled Emilys number. *Its me. Sorry its late… Yes, we talked. Can I come over?*
Walking to the bus stop, she marvelled at lifes strangeness. This morning, shed assumed shed die in that house, with that man, in that endless cycle. Now she was stepping into the unknownand felt freer than ever.
Her phone buzzed: Jeremys name flashed. She hesitated, then declined the call and switched it off.
Her time *was* up. The time of fear, doubt, silence. Now began something newterrifying, uncertain, but hers. And she was ready.
