Its just us being weary of each other, I said, pulling Emma close and resting my chin on her shoulder. Dont fret, love. Weve still got plenty of time ahead. Well be parents someday, and our little one will look a lot like you and me. Hear me? Itll happen.
Emma nodded, her face pressed against my back. I wanted to believe my own words; I really did. But a cold, heavy weight had settled deep inside her, making each breath feel cramped. Three years of marriage. Three years of trying, hoping, and disappointment. Three years of endless trips to GPs, blood tests, scans all without a single positive result.
I know, Emma whispered, though even she seemed unsure.
I planted a kiss on her crown. The warmth of my smile reached her, but she now sensed that I was merely wearing a mask, hiding my own frustration and anger.
At first I kept my promises. I was there, supportive, caring. Id bring a bunch of roses for no reason, whip up a full English breakfast on lazy Sundays, hold her tight at night when she sobbed into her pillow after yet another negative test. I was kind, patient, loving.
Gradually, though, things shifted. It started subtly. I began staying later at the office, then business trips became more frequent. I stopped giving her a morning hug, pulled away when she tried to nestle against me on the sofa in the evenings. Our conversations grew short, formal a string of oneliners and vacant eyes instead of the lively banter we once shared.
Emma tried to ignore it. She convinced herself it was temporary, that I was simply worn out by the endless tension, the waiting, the letdowns. She told herself it would get better, that we just needed to be patient.
And another eighteen months slipped by.
Emma, we need to talk, I said one night as she was clearing the dishes after dinner.
She froze, a plate halffilled in her hands. My tone was too serious, too businesslike. She turned slowly toward me.
About what? Her own voice sounded foreign to her.
Im filing for divorce.
Four words. Four simple syllables, and Emmas world crumbled. The plate slipped from her grip, shattering on the kitchen tiles. She stood still, eyes wide, trying to process what shed just heard.
What? she gasped.
Sorry, I looked away. I cant do this any longer. Im exhausted tired of waiting, tired of hoping. This isnt the life I imagined. I want children, Emma, a proper family. But were not a couple any more. Were just two people sharing a roof. Its time we stopped pretending everythings fine.
Emma sank onto a chair, her legs giving way. Her mind was a void.
I dont blame you, I continued. It just happened. I cant keep pretending Im happy. 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 silence.
Time blurred into a single, colourless patch. Emma kept going to work, cooking for herself, tidying the flat the same routine as before, but inside there was an aching emptiness. Loneliness wrapped around her like a cold fog you cant shake off.
She blamed herself for the marriages collapse, for not giving me what I wanted.
The only bright spot in that darkness was Claire, a friend from university. Wed spent our student years together, swapping secrets and dreaming of futures. Claire showed up with scones and tea when I left, sitting beside Emma, hugging her, listening without offering advice or judgment. She was simply there.
Everything will be alright, Emma, Claire said, rubbing Emmas back. Youll pull through. Youre strong.
Emma nodded, though she didnt truly believe it. Still, Claires presence warmed her, a reminder she wasnt completely alone.
They met weekly a coffee at the local café or a gettogether at someones flat. Claire talked about her job, her husband, her plans; Emma listened, trying to be happy for her, even as her own heart clenched with pain. Claires life seemed perfect: a loving husband, steady work, stability everything Emma felt she had lost.
But slowly Emma noticed oddities. Claire started replying to messages less often, cancelling meetups at the last minute. Her smile grew strained, her eyes darted about. Shed rush away, claiming urgent errands.
It wasnt just Claire. Their whole social circle seemed to drift. The group chat grew quiet; no one pinged Emma first. Invitations stopped. It was as if shed become invisible, politely ignored by everyone.
Emma tried to brush it off. Maybe they were just busy. Everyone has their own life. Still, a chill of unease settled in her chest and wouldnt leave.
Then Claires birthday arrived. Emma remembered the date vividly; theyd always celebrated together since university cake, champagne, gifts, laughter until the early hours. A tradition that had lasted for years.
This year, though, there was no invite. No call, no text, nothing. Emma waited until the last minute, hoping Claire had simply forgotten. The phone stayed silent all day.
That evening, Emma could no longer hold back. She bought a scarf Claire had mentioned wanting, wrapped it nicely and drove to her flat, just to wish her a happy birthday, to show she still cared.
From the hallway she heard muffled music and voices. The party was in full swing.
Emma paused, gathering courage, then knocked. The noise continued. After a minute, the door swung open.
Standing there was Claire, dressed elegantly, a glass of prosecco in hand. Her smile froze when she saw Emma; her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the unexpected visitor.
Emma, Claire breathed. What what are you doing here?
I came to wish you a happy birthday, Emma said, holding out the present, forcing a smile even though a painful knot tightened in her chest. Happy birthday.
Claire didnt take the gift. She blocked the doorway, staring at Emma as if she were an unwelcome pest.
I thank you, but Claire stammered.
Why wasnt I invited? Emma couldnt hold back any longer. We always celebrated together. Whats happened, Claire? Why is everyone ignoring me?
Claire looked away, running a hand through her hair. Laughter drifted from the next room. Emma peered inside and saw something that made her freeze.
There, standing by the kitchen island, was James my former husband holding a womans waist. She was blonde, smiling, and James leaned in for a long, tender kiss.
Emmas breath caught; the world tilted. James was at Claires birthday, with another woman, and she hadnt even been invited.
Claire grabbed Emmas hand and pulled her toward the stairwell, shutting the door behind her.
Emma, listen Claire began.
Explain explain whats happening. Why is he here? Why didnt you invite me? Emma demanded, her voice shaking.
Claire exhaled heavily, leaning against the wall. The awkwardness and irritation were plain on her face. She glanced sideways.
We sort of befriended Dave during your marriage, Claire said. You know, he was my best friends husband. We talked a lot, and after the split we didnt want to cut him off completely. Hes a decent bloke, fun to be with. We kept the friendship.
So you chose his side, Emma finished, her insides turning to ice. You chose him, didnt you? Weve been friends since university, Claire. After all these years, how could you?
Emma, it isnt that simple, Claire replied, crossing her arms. Being with him is easier. He doesnt dwell on problems, doesnt whine. Honestly, no one wanted to listen to your endless complaints any more. It was wearing everyone out. They were tired of the gloom, tired of you. So we thought it would be simpler for everyone.
Emma stared at Claire, barely recognizing the woman before her. The tone was as detached as a weather report.
Also, Claire rushed on, eager to finish, Daves got his life sorted now. Hes back in a relationship, a weddings on the horizon, his partners expecting. Everythings perfect for him. If wed shown up together, it would have been awkward for everyone. We just wanted to avoid drama.
Emma nodded slowly, mechanically. Inside, something finally snapped. Dave would soon be a father, with a new family everything hed ever wanted that he never got with me.
And I, Emma, seemed to have become completely redundant.
I understand, she said softly, handing the gift to Claire. Here, take it. Happy birthday.
Claire took the box without looking up.
For all those years of friendship, you could have said this to my face, Emma continued, meeting Claires gaze. Instead you hid behind excuses only when the truth came out. I thought we were honest with each other, but I guess I was wrong.
Claire stayed silent, eyes fixed on the floor, clutching the present.
Happy birthday, Emma concluded, turning toward the stairs. Enjoy the celebration. From me
Her footsteps echoed loudly as she descended, gripping the banister, legs trembling, breath shallow. She pushed herself toward the street, desperate to reach the fresh air.
Cold night air hit her lungs as she stepped out of the building. Then the tears shed been holding back burst forth, hot and fierce, streaming down her cheeks. She walked down the deserted lane, not caring where she was going, crying for the pain, the betrayal, the loneliness.
In less than a year shed lost her husband, and, as it turned out, all the friends shed thought were close. Those shed counted on in a crisis turned out to be strangers.
Friends are known in trouble, an old proverb flashed through her mind. It seemed she truly had no genuine friends left. Maybe there never were any.
Emma wiped her eyes and headed home, to a flat where nobody waited. Yet a faint hope lingered in her heart that this wasnt forever, that perhaps someday things would be for the better. The old saying rang true: whatever happens, it happens for a reason.
