Stephen Harris stood tall, stuffing his suitcase with a grim pride. He was about to walk out of the house hed shared with his wife of fifteen years. He was heading for a woman twelve years his junior. Emily Harris watched him, tears flooding her eyes, clinging to the desperate hope that it was a cruel jest and that he would never leave.
Stephen, dont go, Emily begged, voice shaking. We still have to raise the children. For their sake, please stay.
The children will understand! Stephen snapped back, his tone hardening. I wont be tied down by them. Theyre thirteen now; theyve grown up.
What? Theyre still kids! They need their father! Emily sobbed, trying to grab his sleeve. He pulled away, his hand slipping free.
Dont use the kids as a leash! Stop ruining my life! he shouted, his anger blazing. In that instant he thought of nothing but his bright future with the younger woman, not of the damage he was leaving behind.
With his belongings finally packed, Stephen walked out the door. Emily crumpled onto the hallway floor, the cold tile receiving her sobs.
When Tom and little Ethel Harris came home from school, Emily was still lying there, her eyes empty, no longer weeping but staring into nothing. She rose slowly, looked at her children, and whispered, Dads gone forever.
Dont cry, Mum, Ethel said, trying to be brave. Well manage without him.
Exactly, Tom added, shoulders set. Well pull through, Ill help.
Emily clutched the twins, tears spilling anew. Youre both so good to me. Well get through this everything will be alright
They did pull through, though not instantly. Emily wept in the night when the house was silent, mourning Stephen more and more faintly as weeks passed.
Life seemed to smooth for Emily, but it grew harsher for Stephen. With Claire, the new, younger wife, the days were lively yet intolerably chaotic. She could do nothing, and when she could, she refused. Stephen began comparing her to Emily, the way hed always lived. Claire, fed up, tossed him out, sending him back to Emilys doorstep.
A year later Stephen appeared at Emilys door, eyes cast down, hair disheveled, clothes rumpled. He begged forgiveness, pleading, I love you, I cant live without you. Please take me back, Ill never leave again. Emily felt a strange relief; she still loved her children more than the fleeting young lover. She argued for propriety, aired every grievance, yet she let him in. Tom and Ethel accepted him with muted indifference; their youthful idealism barred true forgiveness, and they simply ignored his overtures.
Emily swelled with a cold triumph. So Im the better one, she thought, proud that Stephen had returned. Stephen walked away satisfied, convinced Emilys acceptance meant she still loved him. For a moment, everything seemed settled.
But Claire was far from content. She simmered with jealousy, angry that Stephen thrived without her. Determined, she tried to rekindle their bond, and Stephen, unwilling to resist, fell back into her arms.
The second time Stephen left, it was no longer with a swagger. He packed his things on a Saturday, their day off, the children away at school. He muttered a brief, Sorry, I was wrong, and slipped out. Emily this time did not cry, did not beg; she pretended to watch television, feeling like a total failure.
She harbored no despair now, only selfanger for giving in to her weakness, for trusting him again. She fought to keep her dignity, and only when the door shut behind him did she finally unleash the flood of tears.
By the time Tom and Ethel returned from school, Emily had steadied herself. When she told them about their fathers departure, they even laughed.
Blokes like him are proper old nags, Tom said, chuckling. Well manage without him, maybe even better.
Stephen returned to Claire like a king, convinced her invitation meant love. He behaved as if the world revolved around him. After just a month, Claire threw him out again.
Again Stephen stood on Emilys doorstep, eyes lowered, convinced shed forgive him once more. This time Emily blocked his entry.
You were right then, she said calmly. Getting back together was a mistake. Some wounds cant be healed; they must be cut away. Dont come back.
Stephen stared, unable to accept that hed become unwanted. The young wife was fickle, but what of the children? He was their father, the man who raised them. Yet his exwife no longer needed him The betrayal cut deeper than hed ever imagined. Who could ever know what those women truly needed?
