“Let Denis go!” she finally agreed…
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yvonne asked coolly, watching her husband pull on a fresh shirt.
“Just meeting the lads for a pint and a chat,” he muttered, not even glancing her way.
“When was the last time you wanted to spend time with *me*?” She tried to smile, but it came out bitter.
“You’re always at work! How was I supposed to know you’d finish early today?”
A fair question, perhaps. But lately, there had been too many fair questions—too many logical excuses. And Yvonne was tired. Tired of being the one who understood, forgave, and footed the bill.
Once, she’d thought he was the one. Denis had been attentive, sweet, a few years younger—but what did age matter when souls fit? Her mother’s friends had introduced them. They married, settled into her spacious flat. He worked… when he could. But she earned enough. For both.
The first warning came a year in. An affair. Then another. Apologies, tears, promises. Followed by demands—a games console, a new PC, the latest phone. And now… a car.
“Yvonne, love, it makes sense! I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery—”
“Try coming home first,” she snapped. But old habits died hard.
Then came the call. One Sunday morning.
“Hello? Let Denis go!” A young woman’s voice.
“Who is this?”
“We love each other! And you—you’re just in the way!”
Yvonne listened in silence.
“Are you sure his love is worth more than his wallet?” she finally asked.
“Of course!”
“Let’s see, then.”
She hung up, calmly packed his things into a suitcase.
Ten minutes later, Denis walked in. Stopped dead at the sight of the luggage.
“Are we… going somewhere?”
“You are. Wherever you want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. We’re done.”
“Over some silly cow? Yvonne, I was joking! We wanted a family! A car!”
“Yeah. And now I’ll buy my own car. Get my own licence. Have children—*if* I want them. Thanks for the push.”
He argued. Begged. Manipulated. But Yvonne was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her brand-new car at the shopping center. Driver’s license in her pocket, confidence in her stride, a quiet smile. A new dress—one her current partner adored. A man who was steady, secure, without demands.
Spotting Denis in the distance, she paused—just for a second.
“You bought *that* one? I wanted black.”
“I wanted red. So I got red.”
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. No words. No regrets. Just gone.
