Youre going to her again?
Poppy stared at her husband. Andrew kept tying his shoes.
For the kids, Poppy. For the kids, not for her, muttered Andrew, pulling his laces tight. How long are we going to argue about this?
Poppy stayed silent. Her lips formed a thin line. She wanted to say so much, but the words lodged in her throat like a painful knot.
It was fine before we married, Andrew continued, standing and grabbing his coat from the rack. You knew I had children. I told you everything from the start. You said you understood. And now? Tantrums? Interrogations?
Poppy clenched her teeth harder. Andrew threw the coat over his shoulders and, without waiting for an answer, walked out the door. The lock clicked and she was left alone.
A few seconds passed before Poppy could move. Her legs felt as heavy as lead. She collapsed onto the sofa in the livingroom, turned on some mindless sitcom. The background noise was the only thing to drown out her thoughts.
They had been together three years, two of them married. And yes, she knew from the beginning: divorce, two kidsa boy and a girl. Andrew had mentioned them on the third date. Poppy had smiled then, said it wasnt a problem, that she understood, that children werent an obstacle.
Now those words seemed naive, foolish.
She covered her eyes with her palm and took a deep breath. Holding back tears became harder. Her chest tightened as if an invisible slab pressed down.
Soon it became unbearable. Twice a week, reliably on Tuesdays and Saturdays, Andrew went to his exwifes house. He said it was to see the children, but he stayed for dinner, spent time with Eleanor.
Poppy knew it was wrong. She trusted her husband, or at least tried to convince herself she did. Yet an uneasy feeling warned her that trouble was coming, a vague foreboding that made her nauseous.
When Andrew left, Poppy was alone in the flat. She sank into selfcriticism, berating herself for not standing firm, for giving in to his promises, for staying silent when she should have shouted.
She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message to a friend.
Hes there again.
The phone vibrateda call from Emily.
Hello? Poppy answered, trying not to let her voice shake.
Poppy, what are you doing? Emily cut straight to the chase. How long can you put up with this? Hes cheating you, isnt he?
No, Emily, you dont get it Poppy started, but Emily interrupted.
I understand perfectly. He goes to his exwife twice a week, stays until night. And youre supposed to tell me theyre just playing Lego with the kids?
Poppy ran a hand over her face. She knew Emily was right. Saying it out loud meant admitting her marriage was a farce.
He says theres nothing between us, that hes only there for the kids, Poppy whispered.
Darling, youre so naive, Emily sighed. Open your eyes. A normal man doesnt spend half an evening at his exs. He picks up his children, takes them for a walk and brings them back. Your husband sits in her kitchen, eats her stew and probably holds her hand when the kids arent looking.
Emily, enough, Poppy gripped the phone tighter.
Enough? Fine. Just remember my words. Youll still be with him, and when that happens, dont tell me I didnt warn you.
The call ended. Poppy stared at the ceiling while someone on TV laughed loudly. She didnt care.
Andrew returned just before midnight. Poppy heard him strip in the hallway, heard his steps toward the bathroom. He lay down beside her, and the scent of foreign perfume floated in the airsweet, cloying.
She didnt ask why he was late. She had no strength. Andrew spoke first, settling himself.
Sorry Im late. Emma needed help with a school project, so I pitched in, Andrew mumbled, already closing his eyes. She made a funny pinecone model.
Poppy nodded in the darkness, though Andrew didnt see.
The pattern continued for months. Tuesday. Saturday. Out. In. The smell of someone elses perfume. Excuses.
Then Andrew changed. He grew sullen and withdrawn, spending whole evenings staring at his phone, brows furrowed. Poppy tried to ask what was wrong, but he brushed her off, muttering something incomprehensible before disappearing into another room.
A couple of weeks later he announced:
Listen, were going on a double date this Friday.
Poppy raised an eyebrow.
With whom?
With Eleanor and her new boyfriend.
A weight lifted from Poppys shoulders. So Eleanor had someone? So Andrew wasnt with his ex? Had he been faithful? All her fears seemed ridiculous.
A smile spread across Poppys face. She turned to Andrew, slipped her arms around his neck.
Of course, lets go.
Friday arrived quickly. Poppy even bought a new dressa lightblue, figurehugging one. She wanted to look good, to show Eleanor she was worthy of Andrew, that she was the right choice.
They met at a cosy café on the other side of town, wooden tables and soft lighting. Eleanor was already seated with a man in his forties, tall, athletic, with an easy grin.
Hi, Eleanor stood to greet them. This is James.
She looked polished, slender, wellkept. James shook Andrews hand. They all sat down. Poppy felt a good omen. The evening should pass peacefully, they would chat and go home.
But the double date turned out terrible.
All night Andrew behaved as if he were trying to win Eleanor back from a rival. He constantly cut James off, demonstratively showing he knew Eleanor better.
James suggested ordering a pepper pizza. Andrew jumped in:
Eleanor doesnt like spicy.
I know, James replied calmly. We already discussed that. You interrupted, didnt let me say it was for us. Lets get something else for Eleanor.
But Andrew wouldnt stop.
Remember, Eleanor, when we went to the seaside with the kids? he continued, ignoring James entirely. Mick brought a jellyfish to the shore, thought it was a toy.
Eleanor nodded, irritation clear on her face.
Andrew, that was ages ago, she said, trying to change the subject.
Still, Andrew pressed on, recounting story after story about the children, about choosing a pram, about sleepless nights when their son had colic.
Poppy sat mute, clutching a glass of water. Every word Andrew said hit a sore spot. She could see that Eleanor was uncomfortable too. The exwife tried to steer the conversation elsewhere with her eyes, but Andrew seemed oblivious.
And Poppy realised. Andrew hadnt let go of his ex. He still clung to their shared past, their children, the memories. She was the extra, the spare.
Her phone ranga banks automated voice. Poppy pretended to be on a call with her mother, saying something urgent.
Sorry, I have to go. Its important.
No one stopped her. Andrew didnt even turn. Poppy left the café, hailed a taxi and headed home.
In the flat, Poppy pulled out a large suitcase and began packing. She could no longer tolerate his behaviour.
Andrew came back an hour later, irritated, angry. He saw the suitcase at her feet.
Whats happening?
Poppy lifted her gaze. Her eyes were dry; the tears had dried between sweaters and jeans.
Im leaving, she said simply.
Where? Andrew frowned.
Anywhere but here, Poppy put on her coat. Tonights outing showedTonights outing showed me that clinging to the past only robs you of the future, and I finally chose freedom over a role that never belonged to me.
