“You’re just sitting at home, doing nothing!”
“Mum, let’s go play with the toy cars, you promised…” five-year-old Oliver pleads again, peeking into the kitchen.
Emily looks first at her son, then at the mountain of unwashed dishes and the chicken carcass patiently waiting on the chopping board. Her gaze returns to her little boy, who stares back expectantly.
“Ollie, just be patient a bit longer, alright? Mum’ll be there soon,” she murmurs, the words soft, as if she doesn’t quite believe that “soon” will ever come.
“Not again! You always say that, and then you never come! I don’t want to play alone! I don’t!” Oliver shouts before storming off to his room.
The cries wake baby Lily, who immediately announces her awakening with loud wails. Emily sinks onto a chair, clutching her head as if trying to block out the noise. She closes her eyes for a moment.
…Emily had always wanted children and loved them dearly. But right now, she’d give anything to be completely alone—somewhere without endless cleaning, cooking, nappies, speech therapy appointments, walks, bathtime, bedtime stories…
Plenty of women live like this, but most have grandparents or husbands who help. Emily’s situation is different. Her parents live miles away, her mother-in-law is busy with work and her own life—grandchildren aren’t a priority. And her husband, James, almost always comes home when the kids are already in bed. He eats dinner, then sits in front of the telly or his laptop. He hardly lifts a finger to help. Lately, their relationship has grown tense, strained—painful, even.
“Mamaaa…” comes the drowsy voice of one-year-old Lily.
“Coming, sweetheart!” Emily calls back, hurrying to the nursery.
She tends to the kids, does a quick tidy-up. After lunch, Oliver has his speech therapy session. While he’s busy, Emily takes Lily to the playground.
They return home as evening approaches. Emily bathes the children, feeds them dinner. She doesn’t eat herself—just gulps down a quick cup of tea. Then she clears the dishes, glances at the chicken, and decides—”no time.” She boils some frozen dumplings for James instead.
James arrives close to nine. Emily’s used to him coming home in a foul mood.
“I’m home! No one to greet me?” he barks from the hallway.
“Jim, please don’t shout—I just got Lily to sleep,” Emily keeps her voice gentle, careful not to provoke him.
“Fantastic. Home sweet home. Walk in, and it’s dead silent!” he mutters before stomping off to the bathroom.
Emily sets the table—dumplings on a plate, a side of herbs and sour cream. She boils the kettle and slices bread.
“Em, did you buy these dumplings on sale? Am I just supposed to eat this rubbish till they’re gone?” James snaps.
“Jim, just one more day with these, alright? Tomorrow I’ll fry the chicken, like I promised.”
“Last time I’m eating this. Monday it was these, now again! Bloody ridiculous!” he grumbles before shovelling food into his mouth.
He doesn’t ask if she’s eaten at all today. Lately, it’s like she doesn’t even cross his mind.
“Jim, put your phone down for five minutes. How was work?”
“Work’s work. Same old. I’m sick of it, and now you want to talk about it at home too?” He cuts her off, immediately returning to his screen.
“Alright then. Enjoy your meal. I’ll go check on the kids.”
“Go ahead,” he mutters.
She tucks the children in, turns off the nursery light, and returns to the kitchen.
“I’m going to bed,” James says flatly, eyes still glued to his phone as he walks out.
“Goodnight,” Emily whispers to the empty room.
There was a time when he’d kiss her goodnight, wish her sweet dreams first. They’d talk for hours after putting Oliver to bed, sipping tea in the kitchen. Then they’d watch a film together before bed…
Those warm, tender moments feel like a distant memory now. Lately, something’s changed. James is swallowed by work, by things Emily isn’t allowed into.
Since Lily was born, Emily’s been exhausted. She’d hoped Oliver could start nursery, but the speech therapy group was full. So she keeps him home, taking him to private sessions instead.
She sighs, checking the clock—half ten already! She scrambles to clear the table, wash up, and get to bed.
By the time she reaches the bedroom, it’s nearly midnight. James is already asleep. His phone pings with a text.
*Who’s messaging him this late?* She dismisses it—probably just a bank notification.
The alarm feels like it rings the second she closes her eyes.
“Half five already? Feels like I never slept…” She drags herself up, throws on her dressing gown, and heads to the bathroom.
She washes her face, brews coffee to wake herself up, then starts breakfast. James wakes at six.
“Porridge and toast *again*?” he grumbles the moment he steps into the kitchen.
“Morning, Jim.”
“Mum used to make pancakes or proper fry-ups. Can’t even get that from you!” he mutters, shoving the porridge bowl angrily.
“Jim, I just don’t have time. I cook properly on weekends—weekdays, it’s too much. And fried food every morning isn’t healthy. Porridge’s good for you and Ollie.”
“Oh, brilliant. So now I choke down this slop! Could’ve at least fried some eggs!”
“First, keep your voice down—you’ll wake the kids. Second, I forgot to buy eggs yesterday!”
“What kind of wife *are* you? Forget this, can’t do that! You don’t even work! Basic things other women handle, and you’re falling apart! Nagging me non-stop! I swear, coming home’s a nightmare. My mum’s right about you—”
He doesn’t finish because Lily starts crying from the nursery.
“I *knew* your mum was poisoning you against me!” Emily snaps.
“Don’t you *dare* bring my mum into this! Just go deal with the kids!” James shouts, shoving his chair back.
While Emily comforts Lily, James storms out to work without a goodbye. The slam of the front door echoes through the flat.
She regrets another pointless fight. Things are bad enough without these petty clashes… The day whirls on—washing the kids, breakfast, cleaning. She starts dinner for James and lunch for the kids, juggling their endless demands.
After lunch and naps, they head to the park.
“Mum, let’s go to the playground with the swings,” Oliver suggests.
“Alright, let’s,” Emily agrees.
They walk to the neighbouring estate’s playground.
“Em! Hi! Long time no see!” a familiar voice calls from behind.
“Oh, Sarah! Hi! Look how big your lot are!” Emily tousles her friend’s son’s hair.
“And yours! You look thinner, though—pale too. You feeling alright?” Sarah frowns.
“I’m fine. Just busy with the kids…”
“Love, you’ve got to make time for yourself. Doesn’t Jim help? I *make* my Mark pitch in. His kids too, isn’t it? That’s what family’s for!” Sarah laughs.
“Sarah, Jim works late. It’s just how it is…”
“So? Mark’s not unemployed either! But watching his own kids isn’t hard. Where you off to?”
“Just the playground. You?”
“We’re heading to the shopping centre—they’ve got a new soft play. Fancy joining?”
“Oh, no. We’ll stick here. Didn’t bring money anyway—we’re saving. Jim’s eyeing a new car.”
“Em, he *just* bought one! Saw him parked near the centre yesterday. New cars for him, but no fun for the kids?!”
Emily stays silent. Sarah’s not wrong.
“Come on! Our treat. Let’s catch up properly.”
They head to the nearby centre. The older kids dash off to the play area while Emily, Sarah, and Lily settle in a café. They order ice cream for Lily, coffee and cake for themselves.
“Em, you seem jittery. Everything okay?” Sarah eyes her suspiciously.
“Just tired, really.”
“Listen, tell your bloke to step up. You’re too soft on—” Sarah suddenly stops.
“What? See someone?”
“Em… is that *Jim* with some girl?!”
Emily turns. A few seconds later, she silently looks away, tears falling. James is kissing another woman. They leave a boutique, heading for the escalator.
“Bloody bastard! Not even hiding it! Em, why are you just sitting here? If that was Mark, I’d—”
Emily coversShe takes a deep breath, wipes her tears, and quietly whispers, “We’re going to be alright.”
