Emily stared at Andrew, eyes like daggers. He was still pulling on his shoes, the laces stubbornly refusing to cooperate.
Back to the kids, Emily. Not to her, Andrew muttered, tying his boots. How long do we have to keep going over this?
Emilys lips pressed into a thin line. She had a thousand things to say, but the words stuck in her throat, forming a painful knot.
Before we were married it suited you, didnt it? Andrew continued, standing up and hanging his jacket on the coat rack. You knew I had children. I told you everything from the start. You said you understood. And now? Hissy fits? Interrogations?
Emily clenched her jaw even tighter. Andrew slung the jacket over his shoulder and, without waiting for an answer, slipped out the front door. The lock clicked, leaving her alone in the quiet flat.
A few seconds stretched before Emily could even move. Her legs felt as heavy as lead. She collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, flicked on a mindless sitcom, the background chatter a thin veil over the storm in her head.
Theyd been together three years, two of them married. From the beginning shed known the truth: divorce, two kidsa boy and a girl. Andrew had mentioned them on their third date. Emily had smiled then, said it wasnt a problem, that she understood, that children werent an obstacle.
Now those words rang naïve, foolish.
She covered her eyes with her palm, drew a deep breath. Holding back tears grew harder; her chest tightened as if an invisible slab pressed down.
Time made the situation unbearable. Twice a weekTuesday and SaturdayAndrew would leave for his exwifes house, claiming it was to see the children. He stayed for dinner, lingered with Grace. Emily knew it was ridiculous. She tried to trust him, or at least convince herself she did. Yet a vague dread churned in her gut, making her nauseous.
When Andrew was gone, the flat felt like a courtroom where Emily sentenced herself for every moment she let his pleas and promises slide past her, for staying silent when she should have shouted.
She snatched her phone and typed a frantic message to her friend.
Hes there again.
The phone buzzedan incoming call. Claire.
Hello? Emily answered, fighting to keep her voice steady.
Emily, what are you doing? Claire cut straight to the chase. How long are you going to put up with this? Hes cheating you. Its obvious.
No, Claire, you dont understand Emily began, but Claire cut her off.
I get it perfectly. He goes to his ex twice a week, stays until midnight. And you tell me theyre just playing with Legos?
Emily ran a hand over her face, feeling Claires words settle like cold water. To admit it out loud meant admitting her marriage was a farce.
He says theres nothing between them, Emily whispered. He says hes only there for the kids.
Darling, youre so naïve, Claire sighed. Men who spend half an evening at their exs kitchen arent normal. Normal men pick up their kids, take them for a walk, then bring them back. Your husband is sitting there eating her borscht, probably holding her hand when the kids arent looking.
Claire, stop, Emily snapped, gripping the handset tighter.
Fine. But remember this: youll stay with him longer, and when you do, dont say I didnt warn you.
The call ended. Emily stared at the ceiling, the televisions laughter a distant echo.
Andrew returned just before midnight. Emily heard him strip his shirt in the hallway, heard the soft splash of water in the bathroom. He lay down beside her, and the scent of another womans perfumesweet, cloyingfilled the room.
She didnt ask why he was late. She didnt have the energy. Andrew, already settling in, spoke first.
Sorry Im late. Lily needed a craft for nursery. I helped hershe made a pinecone cow. It turned out quite funny.
Emily nodded in the darkness, though he couldnt see her.
The pattern continued for monthsTuesday, Saturday, out, back, foreign perfume, excuses. Then Andrews mood shifted. He grew sullen, withdrawn, spending whole evenings staring at his phone, brow furrowed. Emily pressed for answers, but he brushed her off with muttered nonsense and disappeared into another room.
A couple of weeks later he announced:
Listen, were going on a double date this Friday.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
With whom?
With Grace and her new boyfriend.
A weight lifted from Emilys shoulders. Grace had a man? Andrew hadnt been with his ex? He hadnt been cheating? All her fears seemed pointless.
A smile slipped onto Emilys face. She turned to Andrew, slipped her arms around his neck.
Of course well go.
Friday arrived quickly. Emily bought a new dressa pale blue, figurehugging numberhoping to look her best, to show Grace she was worthy of Andrew, that she was the right choice.
They met at a cosy café on the far side of town, wooden tables, soft lighting. Grace was already seated with a man in his early forties, tall, athletic, a warm smile.
Hey, Grace stood, greeting. This is Max.
Max shook Andrews hand, then took his seat. Emily felt a hopeful flutter. The evening should have been smoothtalk, laughter, then home.
Instead, the double date turned nightmarish.
All through the night Andrew acted as if he were fighting to win Grace back. He constantly interrupted Max, flaunting how well he knew Grace.
Max suggested ordering a peppered pizza. Andrew jumped in:
Grace doesnt like spicy.
I know, Max replied calmly. We talked about it. You cut me off before I could say it was for us. Lets get something else for her.
Andrew didnt stop.
Remember, Grace, when we took the kids to the seaside? Mick brought back a jellyfish, thought it was a toy, he blurted, ignoring Max entirely.
Grace nodded, irritation plain on her face.
Andrew, that was ages ago, she said, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.
But he kept churning out story after storyabout the children, about choosing a pram, about sleepless nights when their son had colic.
Emily sat mute, gripping a glass of water, each of Andrews words cutting deeper. She could see how uncomfortable Grace was. Grace tried to silence him with a stare, to shift the talk, but Andrew seemed deaf to her.
Thats when Emily realized: Andrew hadnt let go of his ex. He clung to the past, to the kids, to every memory. She was the spare part, the temporary replacement.
Her phone buzzeda banks automated call. Emily pretended to be on a call with her mother, saying something urgent.
Sorry, I have to go. Its important.
No one stopped her. Andrew didnt even turn. She fled the café, hailed a taxi, and sped home.
In the flat Emily hauled a large suitcase, packing her life. She could no longer endure her husbands behaviour.
Andrew stormed back an hour later, angry, his eyes landing on the suitcase at her feet.
Whats happening?
Emily lifted her gaze. Her eyes were dry; the tears had dried between sweaters and jeans.
Im leaving, she said simply.
What? Where? Andrew snapped.
Anywhere but here, Emily replied, slipping on her coat. Tonights dinner opened my eyes. You still love your ex, or you simply cant let her go. I dont know which is worse.
What are you talking about? Andrew began, but Emily raised a hand, cutting him off.
Enough. Dont lie. I saw how you behaved. You tried to claim her as yours in front of Max. All night you acted as if she still belonged to you, and I was just an afterthought.
Andrew fell silent.
I wont be a backup plan, Andrew, Emily said, gripping the suitcase handle. Im done. Im leaving.
Emily, wait, he pleaded finally.
No, she shook her head. I love you, but this love will burn out. Ill keep at least some dignity.
She crossed the threshold. Andrew watched, helpless, as she walked away without a word, without a plea, without an attempt to explain.
Emily caught a cab and headed to her parents house. As the night city blurred past the window, she thought of only one thing: at last, she was free.
