“Let Denis go!” I just agreed…
“Where are you off to?” asked Emma, watching her husband pull on a fresh shirt, her voice carefully even.
“Meeting the lads for a pint and a chat,” replied William, not even looking her way.
“And when do you ever plan 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 point, maybe. But recently, there’d been too many of them—fair points, convenient excuses. And Emma was tired. Tired of being the one who understood, forgave, and paid for everything.
Once, she’d thought she’d met the one. William had been attentive, shy, a bit younger—but what did age matter when two souls clicked? They’d been introduced by her mum’s friends, had a lovely wedding, moved into her spacious flat. He worked… in spurts. But she earned enough. For both of them.
The first red flag came a year in. An affair. Then a second, a third. Apologies, tears, promises. And after each—new purchases. A gaming console, a top-tier laptop, the latest phone… Now—a car.
“Emma, love, it’s practical, isn’t it? I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery…” William dreamed aloud.
“You’d need to actually be home first,” she snapped. But old habits died hard.
Then came the call. A Sunday morning.
“Hello, let William go!” A young woman’s voice.
“Sorry, who is this?”
“We’re in love! You’re just… in the way!”
Emma stayed silent.
“Are you sure your love’s worth more than money?” she finally asked.
“Of course!”
“Let’s test that, then.”
“What?”
“Take him. For good.”
She hung up and quietly packed his things.
Ten minutes later, William walked in. Stopped in the doorway, staring at the suitcase.
“Are we… going somewhere?”
“You are. Wherever you like.”
“What?”
“Literally. We’re done.”
“Over some stupid fling? Emma, it was a joke! We were supposed to start a family! Get that car!”
“Right. I’ll buy the car myself. Get my licence myself. And if I want kids—I’ll have them without you. Thanks for the motivation.”
He argued. Pleaded. Manipulated. But Emma was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her brand-new car at the shopping centre. Driver’s licence in hand, confidence in her step, a light smile. A new dress—the kind her current partner adored. A man who was steady, reliable, no games.
Spotting William in the distance, she paused for a second.
“You bought *that* one? But… I wanted it in black.”
“And I wanted red. So I got red.”
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. No words. No regrets. Just gone.
