We were tired of you, Ellie, and I tried not to let the words linger. I held my wifes shoulders gently, pulling her close.
Dont worry, love, I said, theres still plenty of time ahead of us. Well have children someday, a little one who will look just like you and me. I promise you, it will happen.
Eleanor nodded, her face pressed against my shoulder. I wanted to cling to those words, to believe them. Yet something cold and heavy had settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Three years of marriage, three years of hope, of disappointment. Three endless trips to doctors, countless tests, examinationsnone yielding the result we craved.
I know, Eleanor whispered, though even she seemed unsure of the truth.
I kissed the top of her head; warmth seemed to smile back at me. Yet Eleanor felt I was wearing a mask, hiding my frustration and anger.
At first I kept my promises. I was there, supportive, caring. I brought flowers for no reason, cooked weekend breakfasts, held her in the night when she wept into the pillow after yet another negative scan. I was kind, patient, loving.
Gradually, however, things shifted. It started quietly. I began staying later at the office, then business trips became more frequent. I stopped hugging her in the mornings, pulled away when she tried to nestle against me on the sofa. Our conversations grew brief, formalsingleword answers and distant eyes replacing the lively chatter we once shared. Eleanor tried to ignore it, convincing herself it was temporary, that I was merely exhausted by the constant strain, the waiting, the letdowns. She told herself that everything would fall into place if she just held on.
And so a year and a half slipped by.
One evening, as she was washing the dishes after supper, I said, Eleanor, we need to talk.
She froze, plate in hand, my tone too grave, too businesslike. She turned slowly to face me.
What about? she asked, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.
Im filing for divorce.
Four words. Four simple syllables, and Eleanors world shattered. The plate slipped from her grasp, shattering on the kitchen tiles. She stood still, eyes wide, trying to grasp what she had just heard.
What? she gasped.
Sorry, I said, looking away. I cant do this any longer. Im tired of waiting, tired of hoping. This isnt the life I wanted. I want children, a real family. But were no longer a couple; were just two people sharing a roof. Its time to stop pretending everythings fine.
Eleanor sank onto a chair, her legs giving way. A hollow void filled her mind.
I dont blame you, I added quietly. It just turned out this way. I cant keep pretending Im content. Im sorry.
I turned and left the kitchen. She heard me gathering my things in the bedroom, then the soft click of the lock, and the house fell into silence.
Time turned into a single, indistinct blur. Eleanor kept going to work, cooking for herself, tidying the flatdoing everything she had always done. Inside, though, a yawning emptiness gnawed at her. Loneliness wrapped around her like a cold fog, impossible to escape.
She blamed herself for everythingthe failure of the marriage, for not giving me what I wanted.
The only bright spot in that darkness was Mabel, a friend from university. We had shared student years, secrets, dreams of the future. When I left, Mabel was there, bringing cakes and tea, sitting beside her, hugging, listening. She offered no advice, no lecturesjust presence.
Everything will be alright, Eleanor, Mabel would say, rubbing her back. Youll get through this. Youre strong.
Eleanor nodded, though she didnt truly believe the words. Still, Mabels company warmed her, reminded her she wasnt completely alone.
We met regularlyonce a week in a café or at someones house. Mabel talked about work, her husband, her plans. Eleanor listened, tried to be happy for her, even as pain clenched her inside. Mabels life seemed perfect: a loving husband, stabilityeverything Eleanor had lost.
Then the cracks appeared. Mabel replied to messages less often, found excuses to cancel at the last minute. Her smile became strained, her gaze darted away. She hurried away, citing urgent matters.
It wasnt just Mabel. The whole circle drifted apart. The group chat went quiet; no one messaged Eleanor first. Invitations stopped. She felt invisible, as if everyone had collectively decided to ignore her.
She tried to dismiss itperhaps they were simply busy, each with their own lives. Yet a chill of unease settled in her chest and would not leave.
Then Mabels birthday arrived. Eleanor remembered the date well; wed always celebrated together since universitycake, champagne, gifts, laughter until dawn. A tradition that stretched over many years.
That year, however, there was no invitation, no call, no message. Eleanor waited until the last moment, hoping Mabel had simply forgotten to write. The phone stayed silent all day.
That evening, Eleanor could hold back no longer. She bought a scarf Mabel had long wanted, wrapped it in pretty paper, and drove to her friends house just to say happy birthday, just to show she still cared.
From the stairwell, muffled music and voices drifted down. A party was in full swing.
Eleanor paused, drawing a breath, then knocked. The sounds continued. After a minute, the door swung open.
Mabel stood there, elegant in a dress, a glass in her hand. Her smile froze when she saw Eleanor, eyes widening as if the surprise had caught her off guard.
Eleanor, Mabel breathed. What are you doing here?
I came to wish you a happy birthday, Eleanor replied, offering the gift, forcing a smile despite the knot in her throat. Happy birthday.
Mabel didnt take the present. She stood, blocking the doorway, looking at Eleanor as though she were an unwelcome intruder.
Thanks, but Mabel stammered.
Why wasnt I invited? Eleanor could no longer hold back. We always celebrated together. What happened, Mabel? Why is everyone ignoring me?
Mabel looked away, ran a hand through her hair. Laughter echoed from behind her. Eleanor peeked into the flat and saw something that made her heart stop.
There I was, standing at the kitchen table, arm around a lighthaired woman, smiling. He leaned in and kissed hera long, tender kiss.
Eleanors breath caught. The world swam. I was here, at Mabels birthday, with another woman, while she hadnt even been invited.
Mabel grabbed Eleanors hand and pulled her toward the lift, closing the door behind them.
Eleanor, listen she began.
Explain explain whats going on. Why is he here? Why wasnt I invited?
Mabel sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. Her eyes flickered with embarrassment and irritation. She glanced away.
We got friendly with Dave during your marriage. You know, he was the husband of my best friend. We talked a lot, and after the divorce we didnt want to cut him off completely. Hes a decent bloke, interesting to be with. We stayed friends.
And you chose his side, Eleanor finished, feeling the temperature drop further. You chose him, Mabel? Weve been friends since university. All those years, and you could do this?
Mabel crossed her arms. It isnt that simple, Eleanor. Hes he doesnt dwell on problems, he doesnt constantly complain. Honestly, no one wanted to hear your endless grievances any longer. It was wearing everyone down. Theyre tired of the heaviness you bring. So we thought it would be easier for everyone.
Eleanor stared at her, hardly recognizing the woman before her. The tone was as flat as a weather report.
Besides, Mabel hurried on, Daves life is sorted now. Hes back in a relationship, a wedding is coming, his partner is expecting. Everythings perfect for him. If wed all been together, it would have been awkward. We just wanted to avoid drama.
Eleanor nodded slowly, mechanically. Inside, something finally snapped. Dave would soon be a father, start a new familyeverything hed ever wanted but never got with me.
And I, Eleanor, seemed to matter to no one any longer.
I understand, she whispered, placing the gift into Mabels hands. Happy birthday.
Mabel took the box without looking up.
For years of friendship you could have said this to my face, Eleanor continued, lifting her gaze. Instead you hide behind excuses only when the truth finally surfaces. I thought we were honest with each other, but I was mistaken.
Mabel stayed silent, staring at the floor, clutching the present.
Happy birthday, Eleanor finished, turning toward the stairs. I wish you happiness. Enjoy your celebration. From me
Her steps echoed loudly as she descended, gripping the banister, legs wobbling, breath ragged. She just wanted to reach the street.
Cold air hit her lungs the moment she stepped out of the building. Then the tears shed been holding in burst forth, hot and fierce, streaming down her cheeks. She walked down the deserted lane, not caring which way she went, crying for the pain, the betrayal, the loneliness.
In less than a year Id lost my husband and, as it turned out, all my friendsthe ones Id thought were close, the ones Id leaned on in hard times.
Old sayings resurfaced: true friends are known in adversity. It seemed I had none left; perhaps I never had any.
Eleanor wiped her eyes and made her way home, to a place where no one awaited her. Yet a small ember of hope lingered in her heartthat it wasnt forever. And that everything that happens does so for a reason.
