13October2025 London
Emma stared at me, eyes sharp as a needle, while I fumbled with the laces of my boots.
Come on, love, the kids need you, not her, I muttered, pulling my jacket off the peg. How many times must we go over this?
She said nothing, her lips a thin line, words stuck in her throat like a lump of stone.
Before we married, you knew I had two children. I told you everything; you said you understood. Now youre throwing tantrums and interrogating me? I said, slipping the coat over my shoulders and heading for the door before she could answer. The lock clicked, and the flat fell silent.
A few seconds later I heard her thud onto the sofa, the faint murmur of a cheap reality show filling the room, a poor attempt to drown out her thoughts.
Wed been together three years, two of them as husband and wife. From the start, Emma knew I was divorced, with a son and a daughterJames and Lily. Id mentioned them on our third date. Shed smiled then, insisted it was no problem, that children were no obstacle. At the time her words seemed sincere; now they feel naïve.
Emma covered her eyes with her hand, inhaled deeply, and tried to hold back tears. Her chest seemed compressed by an invisible weight.
It became unbearable. Twice a weekTuesday and SaturdayI was expected to spend evenings at Susans flat, ostensibly to see my children. In reality I lingered for dinner, sharing jokes with my exwife over her stew, staying until night fell.
Emma sensed the foolishness of it all, trusted me, or at least tried to convince herself she could. Yet a vague dread gnawed at her, making her feel nauseous.
When I left, Emma was left alone in the flat, berating herself for not standing firmer, for giving in to my promises, for staying silent when she should have shouted. She grabbed her phone and typed a frantic message to Claire: Hes at her again.
The phone buzzed; Claire called.
Hello? Emmas voice trembled.
Emma, what are you doing? How long will you put up with this? Hes cheating, its obvious, Claire said bluntly.
Claire, you dont understand Emma began, but Claire cut her off.
Hes there twice a week, stays till midnight, and you expect him to be just a dad? Hes probably playing Legos with the kids, right?
Emma brushed her cheek, realizing Claire was right. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting her marriage was a farce.
He says theres nothing between us, that hes only there for the children, Emma whispered.
God, youre so naive, Claire sighed. Normal men dont spend half an evening at an exs house. They pick up the kids, take them for a walk, and bring them home. Your husband is sitting in her kitchen, eating her borscht, probably holding her hand when the kids arent looking.
Enough, Claire, Emma snapped, gripping the handset tighter.
Fine. But remember my words. Youll stay with him longer, and when you finally do, dont say I didnt warn you.
The call ended. Emma stared at the ceiling, the televisions laughter a distant echo.
I returned just before midnight, the hallway echoing with the rustle of my shirt. I slipped into the bathroom, then lay down beside her, the scent of foreign perfume hanging heavy in the air.
Sorry Im late. Lily needed a craft for preschool, so I helped her make a pinecone sculpture. She turned it into a funny little cow, I mumbled, already halfasleep.
Emma nodded in the darkness, though I could not see her.
The pattern repeated for monthsTuesday, Saturday, departure, return, the same lingering perfume, the same flimsy excuses.
Then my attitude shifted. I grew withdrawn, spending evenings glued to my phone, brow furrowed. Emma pressed for answers; I brushed her off with muttered nonsense and retreated to another room.
After a couple of weeks I announced, Weve got a double date on Friday.
Emma raised an eyebrow.
With Susan and her new boyfriend.
The weight seemed to lift from Emmas shoulders; a smile crept onto her face. She leaned into me, hugging my neck.
Of course, lets go.
Friday arrived quickly. Emma bought a new skyblue dress, fit for the occasion, hoping to show Susan that she was still worthy of my attention.
We met at a cosy café on the other side of town, wooden tables bathed in soft lamplight. Susan was already there with a man in his early fortiestall, athletic, with an easy grin.
Hello, Emma, Susan said, standing. This is Max.
She looked polished, slender, the picture of confidence. Max shook my hand, and we all settled.
I expected the evening to pass quietly, a few polite chats before we each went our separate ways. Instead, it turned into a disaster.
All night I tried to outshine Max, interrupting him constantly, flaunting how well I knew Susan. When Max suggested a pepperspiced pizza, I interjected, Susan doesnt like heat.
I know, Max replied calmly. We already discussed that. You cut me off, so Ill order something else for her.
I didnt stop. Remember, Susan, when we took the kids to the seaside? Little James dragged a jellyfish onto the shore, thinking it was a toy.
Susan forced a smile, eyes flickering with irritation.
It was years ago, she said, trying to change the subject.
But I kept recounting story after storyhow we chose a pram for Lily, the sleepless nights when James had colic. Emma sat silent, clutching her water glass, each of my words striking a nerve. She could see how uncomfortable Susan was.
At that moment I finally understood: I hadnt let Susan go. I was still clinging to the past, to the shared memories, to the children. I was the spare part in Emmas life, a temporary replacement.
My phone buzzedan automated bank call. I pretended to speak with my mother, claiming an emergency, and slipped out of the café, hailed a cab, and rushed home.
In the flat I opened a large suitcase and began packing. I could no longer endure his behaviour.
An hour later I returned, angry, to find Emma standing beside the suitcase.
Whats happening? she asked.
My eyes were dry; the tears had dried among the sweaters and jeans.
Im leaving, I said simply.
What? Where to? she demanded.
Anywhere but here, I replied, pulling on my coat. Tonights dinner opened my eyes. You still love Susan, or at least you cant let her go. Im just a placeholder.
She tried to protest, but I raised a hand.
Stop. No more lies. I saw how you behaved, trying to claim her as yours in front of Max. I was the extra, not the priority.
She was quiet.
I wont be a spare part any longer, Andrew, Emma said, gripping the suitcase handles. Im leaving.
I tried to plead, Emma, wait
No, she replied, I love you, but that love will burn out if I keep pretending. Ill keep at least a shred of my dignity.
She walked out, and I watched her go, unable to stop her, unable to ask her to stay, unable to offer an explanation.
Emma took a cab to her parents house. Through the nightlit streets she stared out the window, thinking only of one thing: she was finally free.
Lesson learned: honesty and respect are the foundations of any relationship. When I hid behind excuses and clung to the past, I hurt the people I claimed to love. Facing the truth, however painful, is the only way to move forward with integrity.
