She didnt argue. She simply walked out.
The autumn morning was damp and grey. Emily Clarke was jolted awake by the obnoxious shriek of her alarm clock and, with a sigh, dragged herself out from under the blanket. Throwing a robe over her shoulders, she shuffled over to the window and pulled back the curtains. The bleak scene outside matched her mood a fine drizzle, skeletal trees, a sky threatening more rain.
Today marked the thirtieth wedding anniversary for her and Michael Brown. She hadnt been expecting any grand gestures. In recent years Michael had become spectacularly forgetful about such milestones. When he did remember, it was only because Emily slipped him gentle hints.
She brewed a cup of tea, perched at the kitchen table, and found herself drifting back to their first anniversary five years after theyd said I do. Michael had turned up that evening with a massive bouquet of roses and tickets to the West End. After the play theyd dined out, and hed raised a toast about love and loyalty that made her believe forever was possible.
A loud snore erupted from the bedroom. Michael could have slept until lunch. Lately hed been getting home after midnight, smelling of tobacco and cheap gin. When Emily asked where hed been, he offered vague excuses: stayed late with the lads, important meeting, you wouldnt understand anyway.
Emily exhaled and set about making breakfast. She decided on crumpets, hoping the familiar taste might jog his memory. In their early days hed always claimed hers were the best in the world.
Around ten oclock, a blearyeyed Michael shuffled into the kitchen, bypassed any greeting and headed straight for the fridge.
Morning, Emily said softly. Ive made crumpets.
I dont have time to fuss over your crumpets, he muttered, pouring himself a glass of yoghurt. Vince called, wants me to pop over and look at his car.
A lump rose in Emilys throat. Somewhere deep down she was still hoping for a miracle.
Do you know what day it is? she asked cautiously.
Michael froze for a beat, then shrugged. Its Tuesday, I think. Why?
Nothing, she replied, turning toward the window to hide the tears threatening to spill.
He gulped the yoghurt, flung the empty glass into the sink and vanished into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he reemerged, grabbing his coat.
Im off to Vinces. Dont expect me for dinner, he called over his shoulder.
Michael, today marks thirty years since we married, Emily blurted.
He halted in the doorway and twisted his face in annoyance. And what, now we throw a parade? Emily, how many more anniversaries do you need? Flowers? Ill buy some if its a business thing.
Its not about the flowers, she whispered. I just thought it might mean something to you too.
My schedules packed. No time for sentiment, he snapped, slamming the door.
Emily was left alone in the empty flat. She cleared the cold crumpets from the table, brewed another mug of tea, and let memories of happier days swirl through her mind.
After lunch she decided to take a walk. The rain had stopped and a shy autumn sun peeked out. She strolled through the park, inhaling the fresh air and mulling over her life.
When she first met Michael, hed been a cheerful, attentive lad. He drove a city bus and dreamed of owning his own garage. Theyd married quickly, half a year after meeting. Their daughter, Emma, was born soon after. They were poor but solid. Michael always carved out time for the family, even after a long shift.
Eventually things turned around. Michael opened a modest garage, money started flowing, they bought a semidetached house and a small car. Emma grew up, left for university in another city and began her own life.
But as the years piled on, their relationship grew colder. First he stayed late at work, then he started disappearing in the evenings. Emily tolerated it all, never raising her voice. She believed it was temporary, that things would improve. Time passed, and nothing changed.
Lost in thought, Emily wandered into a tiny café shed never noticed before. The weather had turned melancholy, and she thought a hot chocolate might lift her spirits.
Inside it was warm and cosy. She settled at a window seat, ordered her drink, and began watching the other patrons. At the next table, an elderly couple ate pastries slowly, chatting in hushed tones. The man delicately brushed crumbs from the ladys lips with a napkin; she smiled back. The simple tenderness made Emilys heart ache.
Why did things go so wrong with Michael? she mused, stirring her chocolate. When did we stop seeing each other?
Evening found her back home. The flat was quiet and empty. She switched on the television to stave off loneliness and started preparing dinner. The habit of feeding her husband, even when he never seemed to appreciate it, lingered.
Just before nine, the doorbell rang. Their neighbour, Peter Johnson, stood there with a bottle of red wine.
Emily, sorry for the late dropby, he said, grinning. Just wanted to wish you well. I recall you mentioning that early November is your wedding anniversary.
Emily blinked in surprise. Peter was a friendly neighbour; theyd exchanged a few words in the hallway over the years, helped each other with small tasks. She didnt remember ever telling him about the date.
Thanks, Peter, she said, taking the bottle. I didnt expect
Didnt want to be a nuisance, he replied apologetically. I know Michaels often away, so I thought Id drop a reminder Anyway, I wont keep you. Happy anniversary.
When Peter left, Emily stood holding the wine, a strange mix of gratitude and hurt bubbling inside. A stranger remembered her milestone; her own husband hadnt even bothered to call.
Just before midnight, Michael stumbled in. The smell of alcohol clung to him, and a bright smudge of lipstick stained his shirt.
Where have you been? Emily asked quietly.
Now I have to explain myself? he retorted. Had a night out with the lads you know how it is.
Whats that on your shirt?
What lipstick? Thats nothing, he waved it off, glancing at the stain. Vinces daughter brushed up against me when we were saying hello. Shes still a kid.
Vinces daughter is twentyseven, Emily said evenly. She only wears that deep burgundy shade. This is bright red.
Enough of your jealousy, Michael snapped. Maybe shes got a new shade, who knows? And whats all this interrogation?
Emily didnt argue. She slipped into the bedroom, shut the door, and lay down. Sleep eluded her as thoughts of a marriage reduced to a cohabitation agreement whirled in her head.
The next morning, while Michael napped on the sofa, Emily called Emma.
Hey, love. Hows everything? Hows baby Charlie?
Everythings fine, Mum, Emma replied. Daves growing fast, already crawling everywhere. Dad didnt call yesterday forgot our anniversary?
Exactly, Emily said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. I actually wanted to chat. Remember you asked me to come help with the grandbaby?
Of course! Did you think about it? Emma beamed. Come over, wed love to have you! And Dave could use his granny.
Ill come, Emily said firmly. But not just for a week as you suggested. Id like to stay longer, maybe even move in.
Mum, is something wrong? Emma asked, concern in her voice.
Nothing dramatic, Emily replied. Just a bit tired. Well talk later. Ill be there in three days.
The call left Emily oddly relieved. A decision that had been simmering for years finally took shape. She no longer wanted to live with someone who didnt respect or value her.
Michael awoke around lunch with a pounding headache. Emily placed a tablet and a glass of water beside him in silence.
Whats got you so glum? he asked, wincing. Still moping about yesterday? Sorry, I missed the date. Who hasnt?
Im off to Emmas, Emily said calmly. Ill help with the baby.
When? he asked, halfinterested.
Day after tomorrow.
For how long?
Im not sure. Maybe permanently.
Michael, midswallow, froze with his mouth open.
What do you mean, permanently?
In the literal sense, Emily met his gaze. Im leaving you, Michael.
What? Because of an anniversary? he chuckled nervously. I could buy you a bouquet right now, if thats what you need.
Its not about flowers, she shook her head. Its that weve been strangers for years. You live your life, I live mine. Yet we keep pretending were a family.
Emily, what are you talking about? Weve been together thirty years!
Thats exactly why Im leaving now, she said, a sad smile on her lips. I dont want us to spend another thirty years tormenting each other.
Whos tormenting you? he snapped. Roof over my head? Yes. Money? I bring it in. What else do you want?
Emily stared at the angry man she once loved and thought about how much hed changed or perhaps simply stopped pretending.
I need a lot, Michael, she whispered. I need attention, care, respect. I need to feel loved and important, not just a housekeeper who washes shirts stained with someone elses lipstick.
Youre being dramatic again! Michael exploded. I told you nothing happened!
It doesnt matter whether it happened, Emily answered, weary. What matters is were strangers now. You act as if I dont exist, and I cant go on like that.
Wait, he said, running his fingers through his hair. Youre really going? What about the flat? My stuff?
I dont need much. Ill take only my things. The flat can stay with you. I need peace of mind more than four walls.
And where will you go? To my daughters place? Does she need a motherinlaw?
Emma invited me, Emily replied. Ill help with the baby, maybe find a job there. The citys big, plenty of opportunities.
What about me? Who will cook, wash, tidy?
Emilys smile was tinged with melancholy. Youre an adult, Michael. Youll manage. Or youll find someone younger and prettier to put up with your antics.
The next two days, Michael seemed to doubt the seriousness of her plans. Hed oscillate between ignoring the situation and attempting clumsy compliments, promising change.
Emily, lets forget all this, he pleaded one evening, just before she was due to leave. Ill try, I swear. We can go to the theatre, dine out. How about a holiday on the coast next summer?
Emily had already made up her mind. She packed quietly, placing the essentials into a suitcase, leaving the rest for later.
A taxi arrived at dawn. Michael stood in the doorway, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Maybe youll stay after all? he asked as Emily was about to step out. Think about it. Thirty years isnt a joke. You cant just walk away.
Goodbye, Michael, she said softly, brushing his shoulder. Take care of yourself.
She didnt linger to argue. She simply left.
On the way to the station, Emily watched the familiar streets glide by through the taxi window, feeling a freedom she hadnt known in decades. The future was unknown, but it no longer frightened her. Instead, she welcomed the possibility of something good waiting ahead.
At the station, Emma met her with little Danny in tow. The toddler immediately clutched at his grandmother, and she lifted him, tears streaming down her cheeks not from sorrow, but from relief.
Mum, are you crying? Emma asked, startled. What happened? Did you and Dad fight?
No, love, Emily shook her head, kissing the chubby cheek. We didnt fight. I just realised sometimes you have to know when to walk away.
Six months later, Emily had a job at a local nursery, a modest flat not far from Emmas, and felt happier than she had in years.
Michael called a few times, asking her to come back. His voice held no genuine remorse, only a selfish yearning for the comfort of the familiar.
One evening, on her way home from work, Emily passed an elderly couple strolling arminarm the same pair shed spotted in the café on her anniversary day. They ambled slowly, whispering to each other. As she passed, the lady smiled at Emily, and Emily returned the smile.
Thats what real love looks like, she thought. Even after many years, you can still see someone with tenderness, not irritation.
Back at her flat, she brewed a cup of tea, settled into her favourite armchair and opened a book. Outside, a light spring rain fell, but inside she felt warm and calm. She had no regrets about her choice. Sometimes you have to walk out of one door to open another.
