Are you off to her again?
Emma stared at her husband, her eyes like a drill.
Andrew kept tightening his shoes.
Go to the kids, love, not to her, he muttered, pulling the laces. How long do we have to argue about this?
Emma stayed silent, her mouth a thin line. She had so many words, but they lodged in her throat, forming 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?
Emma clenched her teeth harder. Andrew threw the coat over his shoulders and, without waiting for an answer, headed for the door. The lock clicked, and she was left alone.
A few seconds passed before Emma could move. Her legs felt as heavy as lead. She collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, turned on a mindless sitcom, letting the background noise drown her thoughts.
They had been together three years, two of them married. Shed known from the beginning that there would be a divorce, two kidsa boy and a girl. Andrew had mentioned them on their third date. Emma had smiled then, saying it wasnt a problem, that she understood, that children were no obstacle.
Now those words seemed naïve and foolish.
She covered her eyes with her palm and took a deep breath. Holding back tears grew harder; her chest tightened as if an invisible slab pressed down.
Soon the situation became intolerable. Twice a weekTuesday and SaturdayAndrew would go to his exwifes house, saying he was meeting the children, yet he stayed for dinner, spending time with Olivia, his former partner. Emma knew it was foolish. She tried to trust him, or at least convince herself she did, but a vague foreboding made her feel sick.
When Andrew left, Emma was alone in the flat, spiralling into selfreproach. She berated herself for not standing firm, for giving in to his promises, for staying quiet when she should have shouted.
She grabbed her phone and typed a quick message to her friend.
He’s there again.
The phone buzzedLucy calling.
Hello? Emma answered, trying not to let her voice shake.
Emma, what on earth are you doing? Lucy cut straight to the chase. How long will you put up with this? Hes cheating you, plain as day.
No, Lucy, you dont understand Emma began, but Lucy interrupted.
I get it. He goes to his exwife twice a week, stays until night. And you expect them to be building Lego sets with the kids?
Emma ran a hand over her face, knowing Lucy was right. Admitting it aloud would mean accepting that her marriage was a farce.
He says theres nothing between them, Emma whispered. He says hes only there for the children.
Honestly, Emma, youre being naive, Lucy sighed. Normal men dont spend half an evening at their former spouses. Normal men pick the kids up, take them for a walk, then bring them back. Your man sits in her kitchen, eats her broth, probably holds her hand when the kids arent looking.
Lucy, enough, Emma said, squeezing the phone tighter.
Enough? Fine. But remember my words. Youll stay with him longer, and when that happens, dont say I didnt warn you.
The call ended. Emma stared at the ceiling while someone on TV laughed loudly, but she felt detached.
Andrew returned just before midnight. Emma heard him strip in the hallway, then slip into the bathroom. He lay down beside her, and the scent of his other womans perfumesweet and cloyingfilled the room.
She didnt ask why he was late; she had no strength left. Andrew, settling in, spoke first.
Sorry Im late. Lily needed a craft for nursery, so I helped her, he mumbled, already closing his eyes. She made a pinecone cow. It was funny.
Emma nodded in the darkness, though he couldnt see her.
The pattern continued for monthsTuesday, Saturday, departure, return, foreign perfume, excuses.
Then Andrew changed. He grew sullen, withdrawn, spending whole evenings glued to his phone, brow furrowed. Emma tried to ask what was wrong, but he brushed her off, muttering incomprehensible things before disappearing into another room.
A couple of weeks later he announced:
Listen, were going on a double date this Friday.
Emma raised an eyebrow.
With whom?
With Olivia and her new boyfriend.
The words hit Emma like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Olivia had a new man? Andrew wasnt with his ex? All her fears were unfounded? A smile crept onto Emmas face. She turned to him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and said, Of course, lets go.
Friday arrived quickly. Emma bought a new dressa light blue, figurehugging numberwanting to look her best, to show Olivia she was worthy of Andrew, that she was the right choice.
They met at a cosy café on the other side of town, with wooden tables and soft lighting. Olivia was already seated with a man in his forties, tall, athletic, with an easy grin.
Hello, Olivia stood, greeting them. This is Max.
She was elegant, fit, wellkept. Max shook Andrews hand, and they all sat down. Emma sensed the evening would be smooth, that they would chat and part ways amicably.
Instead, the double date turned nightmarish.
All evening Andrew behaved as if he were trying to win Olivia back. He constantly interrupted Max, demonstratively proving he knew Olivia better.
Max suggested ordering a pepper pizza. Andrew interjected:
Olivia doesnt like spicy.
I know, Max replied calmly. We discussed it already. You cut me off, didnt let me say it was for us. Well get her something else.
Andrew persisted.
Do you remember, Olivia, when we took the kids to the seaside? he blurted, ignoring Max. Charlie brought back a jellyfish, thinking it was a toy.
Olivia nodded, irritation plain on her face.
Andrew, that was ages ago, she said, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.
But he kept going, recounting story after storyabout the children, about their past, about choosing a pram for Lily, about sleepless nights when their son had colic.
Emma sat silently, clutching a glass of water. Every word Andrew spoke pierced her. She saw how uncomfortable Olivia was, how she tried to halt him with glances, how she changed the subject, yet Andrew seemed deaf to it all.
In that moment Emma understood: Andrew hadnt let go of his ex. He clung to their shared history, the kids, the memories. She was a spare part, a temporary replacement.
Her phone ranga banks automated voice. Emma pretended she was speaking to her mother, saying something urgent.
Sorry, I have to go. Its important.
No one stopped her. Andrew didnt even turn. Emma left the café, hailed a taxi, and drove home.
In her flat she pulled out a large suitcase and began packing. She could no longer endure her husbands behaviour.
Andrew came back an hour later, angry, dissatisfied, seeing the suitcase at her feet.
Whats happening?
Emma lifted her gaze, eyes dry, tears spent among sweaters and jeans.
Im leaving, she said simply.
Where to? Andrew asked, frowning.
Anywhere but here, Emma replied, slipping on her coat. Tonights dinner opened my eyes. You still love Olivia, or at least you cant let her go. I dont know which is worse.
What are you talking about? Andrew began, but Emma raised a hand, cutting him off.
Enough. Stop lying. I saw how you acted. You tried to claim her from Max, spent the whole evening showing shes yours, that theres still a connection. I was just a spare.
Andrew was silent.
I wont be a backup, Andrew, Emma continued, gripping the suitcase handle. Im done. Im leaving.
Emma, wait, he pleaded.
No, she shook her head. I love you, but this love will burn out, will be smothered. At least Ill keep a fragment of my dignity.
She walked out the doorway. Andrew watched her go, offering no protest, no plea, no explanation.
Emma called a taxi and headed to her parents house. In the back of the car she watched the nightlit city pass by, thinking of one thing: at last she was free.
She learned that staying in a relationship where you are merely an option erodes the self, and that true freedom comes from recognizing your worth and walking away.
