«Your time’s up,» said John, pointing at the door.
«Not that smell again! I asked you not to smoke indoors!» Emma flung the living room windows open, swishing the curtains angrily. «Honestly, the sofa reeks. What will Beth and her husband think when they come for dinner?»
«What exactly will they think?» John deliberately stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. «That a perfectly normal man lives hereone who smokes occasionally. Big deal.»
«Normal men, John, smoke outside or on the balcony. Not poison their families with second-hand smoke. My head aches whenever you light up indoors.»
«Here we go,» John rolled his eyes. «Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly youve got a headache. Maybe its menopause, love?»
Emma stiffened, lips pressed tight. Lately, hed brought up her age more ofteneach time like a well-aimed jab.
«Whats that got to do with it?» She turned to the window to hide her tears. «Im asking for basic respect. Is stepping onto the balcony really so hard?»
«Respect?» He scoffed. «Wheres yours for me? After work, I want to sit in my chair, drink tea, and have a smokenot run around like a schoolboy. Its my house!»
«*Our* house,» she corrected softly.
«Right, *ours*,» he conceded grudgingly. «But *I* pay the mortgage. *I* paid for the renovation. *I* bought your new coat.»
Emma exhaled. Shed heard this a thousand times. Yes, shed been a homemaker for fifteen yearsraising the kids, caring for his mother, then… just staying. And he never let her forget it.
«I dont want to argue,» she said wearily. «Just smoke on the balcony. Beth has asthmaitll be hard for her to breathe.»
«Fine,» John gave in unexpectedly. «For your precious Beth, Ill step outside. But only tonight.»
He rose, heading to the bedroom, and tossed over his shoulder:
«By the way, why invite them? Ive got an early meeting tomorrowneed rest, not entertaining your dull friends.»
«Theyre not just friends,» Emma countered. «Martins the head librarian. He might help me find work.»
John froze in the doorway. «What work?»
She hesitated. Shed planned to tell him lateronce things were settled.
«I want a job at the library,» she said, steadying her voice. «Three days a week, part-time. The kids are grown, youre always at workI need something.»
«Wholl run the house?» he cut in. «Cook, clean, do the laundry?»
«Ill manage,» she forced a smile. «Its not full-time. The kids hardly visit now, and Mum helps»
«Your mum visits weekly,» he grumbled. «And expects roast dinners every time.»
«She helps with chores! And its not that often.»
«Whatever. But this job ideaits nonsense, Emma. Youre forty-seven. Stay home, knit, read… whatever.»
«*Read*?» Her chest tightened. «John, do you even remember I have a literature degree? That I taught before the kids? That I graduated with honours?»
«So what? That was twenty years ago. Times change. Whod hire you with that outdated CV?»
«The library would,» she insisted. «I dont need a fortune. I need purpose. To feel capable of more than cooking and ironing your shirts.»
«Charming,» he sneered. «So home and family mean nothing? Beneath you now?»
«Youre twisting my words,» she said, exhausted. «Lets talk later. The guests will be here soon.»
She fled to the kitchen, heart pounding. Lately, every conversation became a fight. When had it started? Maybe when she realised they spoke different languageshe no longer heard her.
Once, theyd been different. Met at universityboth literature students, both in love with words. He wrote poems; she adored them. Then came marriage, Lucy, then Tom. He joined a publishing house, climbed the ranks. She stayed homewith nappies, groceries, and books she barely had time to read.
She hadnt noticed him changingthe romantic boy hardening into a cynical man who came home late and stopped asking her thoughts. By the time she noticed, it was too late.
Beth and Martin arrived at seven sharp. Martina burly man with a greying beardlaunched into politics with John. Beth, slight and sharp-eyed at sixty, joined Emma in the kitchen.
«Howd he take the job idea?» she asked, chopping salad.
«Badly. Hes against it.»
«Of course he is,» Beth shrugged. «Men hate changeespecially if it inconveniences them.»
«Nothing would change! Id still handle everything, just work a few hours»
«To him, thats catastrophe,» Beth chuckled. «Imaginehe comes home, and youre *out*. The horror!»
They laughed, and Emma relaxed. Beth always steadied her.
Dinner began peacefully. John was cordial, joking, asking Martin about new releases. Emma dared to hopemaybe hed softened.
«So, about the library,» Beth turned to Emma. «Have you told John about the book club?»
«What book club?» John looked up.
Emma hesitated. «We discussed… me leading a childrens reading group. Twice a week.»
«And when was this starting?» Johns voice turned icy.
«Next month,» Beth said, oblivious. «Just two-hour sessions.»
«Fascinating,» John set down his fork. «Were you planning to *consult* me?»
«I tried today,» Emma said quietly.
«I recall no *consultation*,» John addressed the guests. «Emmas obsessed with working lately. At her age, its… unwise.»
«Why?» Martin frowned. «Emmas highly educated. Wed value her.»
«Perhaps,» John nodded. «But she has dutiesto her home, her *husband*.»
«John,» Emma flushed with shame. «Not in front of»
«Whats the issue?» He glared. «Were adults. I forbid my wife working. Full stop.»
Silence fell. Beth shot Martin a look; he coughed and praised the roast.
The rest of the evening limped alongweather, news, anything but Emmas plans. As the guests left, she cleared the table in silence.
«How long were you hiding this?» John leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.
«I wasnt. I waited for the right time.»
«And when was that? After youd started?»
«Why are you so angry?» She faced him. «Its a *job*, John. Not an affair.»
«To me, its betrayal,» he snapped. «We agreedyoud keep house, Id provide. That was the deal.»
«That was *twenty years ago*! The kids are gone. I want to feel useful!»
«So home isnt useful?» He stepped closer. «Admit ityoure bored. Want freedom? New *friends*?»
«What? This is about *purpose*»
«Spare me,» he cut in. «Ive seen empowered women at work. First the job, then the affairs, then divorce.»
«Good grief, John!» She gaped. «You think Ill seduce someone in a *library*? Between dusty books and elderly readers?»
«Im just saying no. End of discussion.»
Something in her snapped. This was itthe end of hope. Maybe the end of *them*.
«Listen,» she said quietly. «Im taking the job. Ill call Martin tomorrow.»
John stared. «*What* did you say?»
«Im working. Not for money or friends. To feel like a person againnot just your housekeeper.»
«I see,» he nodded slowly. «Youve decided. Without me.»
«I tried deciding *with* you. You wouldnt listen.»
«Fine.» He turned on his heel.
She heard him pacing, muttering. Then he returned, thrusting her coat and handbag at her.
«Your times up,» he said, pointing to the door. «Make decisions alone? Live alone. Get out.»
«Youre *kicking me out*? Over a *job*?»
«Im kicking you out for betrayal. For breaking our agreement. For putting yourself first.»
Emma mechanically put on her coat. It felt unrealtheyd fought before, but hed never thrown her out.
«Are you serious?» She searched his face. «*This* is your hill to die on?»
«Im serious. Go.»
She stepped to the door, then turned.
«Know whats saddest? You never asked *why* I need this. You just forbade melike Im property, not your wife.»
«Enlighten me,» he challenged.
«Because Im terrified,» she whispered. «That one day, you wont come home. That youll leave me for that young editor you stay late withwhats her name? *Claire*? I hear your calls, John. The walls are thin.»
He recoiled. «What rubbish is this?»
She walked out, shutting the door softly.
The night air was cool. For the first time in years, she breathed freely.
Pulling out her phone, she dialled Beth. «Its Emma. Sorry its late… Yes, we talked. Can I come over?»
As she walked, she marvelled at lifes turns. That morning, shed seen her futurethe same house, same man, same lonely routine. Now, stepping into the unknown, she felt lighter.
Her phone buzzed*John Calling*. She hesitated, then declined and switched it off.
Her time *had* comethe time of fear and silence was over. What lay ahead was hers alone. And she was ready.
