“Too Late to Turn Back Now”
“Well, Antonia Gregory, we’ve done what we can for you. Just follow the doctor’s orders and take it easy, all right?” The physician smiled, gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, and held the door open as she shuffled out with her bags.
Antonia swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. Despite the grim reason for her hospital stay, part of her had actually enjoyed it—she’d finally caught a break. The last few years had wrung her dry. She’d slaved away at work, too afraid to even ask for a day off, ignoring the dizziness, the exhaustion, the pounding headaches—until she collapsed. A nervous breakdown, the doctors said, and her heart wasn’t much better. A month in hospital, her mother nearly beside herself with worry.
George, her husband? Didn’t bat an eyelid. Might as well have not noticed she’d vanished. Then again, the moment Antonia left, his mother had moved in—armed with pots, rags, and lectures.
“Antonia, love, you must understand—our Georgie’s like a little boy. Who’s going to look after him if not me?” his mother cooed down the phone.
Antonia gritted her teeth. Years of teaching him to stand on his own two feet—gone, like sugar in tea. Now she was the wicked witch again, and his mother the fairy godmother, “rescuing” her precious boy from his cruel wife. Never mind who’d really been doing the rescuing all these years.
The early days of their marriage still made her shudder. His mother had hovered over them like a shadow, even phoning their bedroom—”Are you asleep? Or is something… not quite right in there?” Horrifying.
Still, they’d met in an amusing way. Antonia had stormed out after a row with a so-called friend who’d turned out to be a backstabber. She was fuming about life’s injustices when a man nearly fell out of a tree onto her. Well, a branch, really. She looked up—and there was Gregory, stuck.
“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped.
“Trying to save a cat!” he huffed.
There was no cat, of course. Whiskers had bolted. But Gregory stayed. Antonia fetched a ladder, helped him down—and that was it. The beginning of something lovely. And rotten.
After the wedding, she quickly realised her husband wasn’t just helpless. He was a child. Couldn’t wash a dish, take out the bins—always whining. Meanwhile, she carried everything: the mortgage, the job, her ill mother. He’d whimper to his mum, who’d scold Antonia. Eventually, she took his upbringing into her own hands—and, admittedly, made progress.
Gregory changed. Learned to cook, tidy, even took initiative. His mother retreated—though she still wept in corners, mourning her “poor boy.” But it was under control. Until the hospital.
Now they were back to square one. Antonia called her husband—silence. Odd. He was off Mondays, usually up by now. Tried his mother—no answer either. Her stomach twisted. She hailed a cab.
She climbed the stairs, key in hand—but the door swung open before she could turn it. A stranger stood there.
“Who are you?” Antonia asked, voice icy.
“I’m Marina. Gregory’s new partner. And you, sweetheart, don’t live here anymore. So be a dear and shove off.”
Antonia froze. Before she could process it, the door slammed in her face.
“Your things will be out shortly,” came the sing-song voice.
Moments later, bags began to appear on the doorstep. Antonia nudged the mistress aside with her foot, sat on her tartan suitcase, and dialed the police. She hadn’t worked herself to the bone just to hand everything over to a traitor.
When the officers arrived, she turfed them both out—Gregory and his “new little princess.” He stayed silent, but she piped up.
“This is his flat too! You can’t just kick us out!”
“I can,” Antonia said flatly. “It’s in my name. Go cry to Mum.”
When the door shut behind them, she exhaled—properly—for the first time in years. She flung open the windows, stripped the bed, and filed for divorce. Hurt, at first. Then… freedom.
A month later, she lay in bed on a lazy Sunday morning. Her phone buzzed.
“George,” she muttered, picking up.
“Antonia… I miss you. No one loves me here. It’s all Mum’s fault. Please—”
She listened. Then burst out laughing.
“You’re joking, right? After everything?”
He kept whining. She hung up, sank into the pillows, and smirked.
“Well then,” she said to herself. “And here I was afraid it was all over. Turns out, it’s only just begun.”
