«Sorry about my little heifer! At it again, stuffing her face!» Archies voiceusually smooth and confidentcracked like a whip across the room, shattering the festive mood. The words stung, and everyone flinched.
Emily froze, her fork hovering mid-air, the slice of glazed ham trembling on its tines. She looked like a statue carved from shame and disbelief. Across the table, her husband smirked, relishing the silence. She was delicate, always had beenlike autumn cobwebsbut now, under the weight of a dozen pitying stares, her body felt heavy, foreign. Her heart clawed at her throat.
James, Archies best mate since uni, choked on his champagne. The bubbles fizzled angrily in his glass, as if echoing his disgust. His wife, Charlotte, sat beside him, mouth agape in perfect shock, but no sound came out. The grand dining tableladen with roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, and all the trimmingsfelt like it was sinking under the silence, thick as custard.
«Archie, what the hell?» James rasped, breaking the quiet.
«What? Cant handle the truth now?» Archie lounged back in his chair, smug. His gaze flicked around the room, hunting for approval. «My silly mares gone and *done it again*eating like theres no tomorrow. Embarrassing, honestly. Cooks enough to feed an army, then wolfs it down.»
Emilys cheeks burned. Not from shamethis was the white-hot sting of humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes, but she swallowed them, like always. Three years of marriage had taught her that much. First, shed cried into pillows. Then, silently in the shower. Now? Nothing. What was the point? Tears only fed the cruelty.
«Come off it, Arch,» muttered Thomas from the other end of the table, trying to salvage the evening. «Ems lovely. Heart of gold.»
«Lovely?» Archie snorted, laughter sharp as a blade. «Seen her *without* all that slap? Wakes up looking like something the cat dragged in. I jump half the timewhos this creature in my bed?»
Someone stifled a nervous giggle. Charlotte shot them a glare. The others suddenly found their plates fascinating.
And then Emily stood. Slow, dreamlike, like she was dragging herself through tar.
«I need the loo,» she whispered, barely audible, and slipped out, dignity in tatters.
«Oh, *there* she goes!» Archie rolled his eyes, grinning. «Stormed off again. Shell be back in a bit, pouting like a child. Women, eh? Gotta keep em in check or theyll walk all over you.»
James stared at his best friendfifteen years of shared history, from lads holidays to grown-up stabilityand didnt recognise him. Archie had always been the life of the partycharismatic, quick-witted, generous. When hed married Emily, everyone cheered. She was porcelain-pretty, gentle, with eyes like melted chocolate. He was handsome, successful, *charming*. A match made in heaven.
But something had cracked. Quietly, like a flaw in antique china. First came the «jokes»*my daft bint, clumsy mare, useless lump*. Friends laughed awkwardly, wrote it off as banter. Then came the real poison.
*»Look at my greedy pig, demolishing dessert!»* hed crow in restaurants when she dared order pudding.
*»Sorry, lads, the wife cant cookprepare for misery!»* as she served dinner shed spent hours on.
*»Whats the point of her? Scraped a degree, teaches brats for pennies.»* About a woman with a first-class literature degree, adored by her students.
Charlotte nudged James. «Do something. This is vile.»
James stood. «Need air.»
He found Emily not in the bathroom, but in the marble-clad ensuite, gripping the sink so hard her knuckles bleached white. Silent sobs wracked her. Mascara streaked her cheeks; lipstick smeared. She looked *broken*exactly how Archie wanted her.
«Em you alright?» he asked softly.
She startled, scrubbing at her face. «*Fine*. Just washing up. Be back in a sec.»
«How longs this going on?» His voice shook.
«Where would I go?» Her eyes were hollow. «This house? His. Cars? His. Even this *stupid* jumperhis gift. Im a primary teacher, James. My salarys a joke. Parents live in a Devon village, barely scraping by. Go back? Humiliate Mum in front of the whole parish?»
«This isnt your fault!»
«To *them* it would be!» Her whisper cracked. «They *bragged**our girl married a wealthy Londoner!* And now what? Say my golden husband calls me a *cow* in front of everyone?»
«Was he always like this?»
She shook her head. «First year? Fairy tales. Flowers, gifts, *youre perfect.* Then the cracks. *Burns the roast.* Then *dresses like a farmers wife.* Now? Now he doesnt *see* me. Weeks of silence, then explosions*mug in the wrong spot, towel hung wrong.* Says Im *nothing*, keeps me out of pity.»
«Em, youre brilliant, kind»
«I dont *know* what I am anymore,» she cut in. «I look in the mirror and see *his* words*stupid, fat, ugly.* Maybe hes right.»
From the dining room, Archies laugh boomed: «*Get thisshe lies in bed like a bloody log!*»
Emily went pale. James clenched his fists. «*Enough.* Get your coat. Were leaving.»
«*Where?*»
«Doesnt matter. Your parents, ours, a hotel*anywhere.*»
«He wont let me.»
«Not his choice.»
Back in the dining room, Archieflushed with winewas regaling guests: «*She spent an hour looking for her glassesthey were on her head!*»
«Were going,» James said flatly.
«*Going where?*» Archie sneered.
«Im taking Emily.»
«Shes not going *anywhere*! Emily*sit down!*»
She flinched but James took her arm. «*Now.*»
«Thats my *wife!*» Archie lurched up, face purple.
«Wife. Not *property*,» James shot back.
«Family matter, *not yours*! EmilyNOW!» His roar rattled the chandelier.
Emily stood rigiduntil Charlotte hugged her. «*Come on. Youre staying with us.*»
«Shes *not leaving*!»
«I am,» Emily said, quiet but clear. No fear left.
«You? And go *where*? Youve got *nothing*!»
«*Myself.* Thats enough.»
«Youre *nothing* without me! I *tolerated* you!»
«Thanks for saying it out loud.» Her voice didnt waver.
She moved to the door.
«Wait! Over a *joke*?!»
«Over *years* of cruelty. Im *done*.»
Archie grabbed her sleeve. «*Dont.*»
She yanked free. «Goodbye.»
The door clicked shut. James and Charlotte followed. Archie stood alone in the empty flat.
He forced a laugh for the guests. «*Shell be back. They always are.*»
But Emily didnt come back. Not next day. Not next month.
He called. Begged. Sent roses. Waited outside her school. She walked past like he was air. Three months later, divorce papers arrived. First, she stayed with James and Charlotte. Then rented a tiny flat with a cracked ceilingbut *hers*. A place where no one called her a cow.
«You okay?» James asked six months later.
«Learning,» she smiled. «Looking in mirrors without hearing him. Its hard. But Im fighting. And *winning.*»
«Archie asked about you.»
«Dont tell me. I dont care.»
«People say hes changed.»
«Maybe. *I* have. And Im not going back.»
Her smile was realsoft, steady.
Archie stayed alone. With his «jokes» that no one laughed at. His belief that humiliation was love. Only now did he realise the woman hed called *daft* had a lions strength. And no woman stays a mirror for a man who only sees her as a shadow.
Emily? She rebuilt. In time. Learned to breathe, to live, to *love*herself, life. Proved even the shards of contempt could piece together happiness.
