**One Step from Divorce**
Emily stood by the window, watching as James circled the driveway in his brand-new car. Mrs. Watson from next door had peeked out her front door three times already—probably annoyed by the engine noise interrupting her telly. But James kept driving around like a schoolboy with a prized toy.
“Dad, can I have a ride?” asked fourteen-year-old Lily, peering over her mother’s shoulder.
“Ask him yourself,” Emily replied sharply, stepping away from the window.
Lily frowned. “Mum, what’s wrong now? He bought the car for all of us!”
“For all of us,” Emily scoffed bitterly. “Do you know how much that thing cost? And there’s no money left for the holiday cottage, or your school trip. We’re scraping pennies together.”
“But we need a car!” Lily sat on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. “Remember how awful it was taking the bus to Gran’s? Three changes, packed like sardines…”
Emily leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Yes, she remembered. But she also remembered arguing with James for six months about the purchase. She’d wanted something modest, second-hand. He’d insisted—”Either a proper car or none at all.” Now they were saddled with a five-year loan, counting every penny.
The front door slammed, and cheerful footsteps bounded in.
“My girls!” James burst into the room, beaming. “Lily, fancy a spin? Eh, Em?”
“I’m not ‘Em’,” she snapped.
James faltered, his smile dimming. “What’s wrong now?”
“Everything!” Emily turned on him. “You bought that car without asking me! Took out a loan we’ll be paying off till retirement!”
“We discussed it—”
“We discussed *a* car, not this flashy thing for thirty grand!”
Lily flinched and slipped out of the room. She was used to her parents’ rows, but she always hoped they’d make up.
“Flashy? It’s a reliable Japanese car! Safe, practical. Only the best for my family!”
“And yet you didn’t bother asking *us*?” Emily dropped into the armchair, exhaustion washing over her. “James, we agreed on a budget—”
“Agreed, agreed!” He paced the room, waving his arms. “And then what? Drag shopping bags home on the bus? Or have you forgotten how your back ached last time?”
Emily remembered. They’d brought back veg from her parents’ allotment, and she’d carried heavy bags from the bus stop. Her back had hurt for days. But now that felt trivial compared to the looming debt.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” she said, standing. “When you’ve cooled off.”
“I won’t cool off!” James shouted after her. “Because I’m right! And you—you’re never happy!”
The bedroom door banged shut. James stood alone in the lounge, staring at the car keys in his hand.
Morning came early for Emily. James still slept on the sofa—he’d clearly spent the night there. She filled the kettle as rain drizzled outside, the grey sky hanging low like her mood.
“Mum,” Lily peeked into the kitchen, “can I skip school today?”
“Why?”
“Headache.”
Emily studied her daughter. Lily *did* look pale, shadows under her eyes.
“Because of us?”
Lily nodded, avoiding her gaze.
“Sweetheart,” Emily hugged her, “grown-ups argue sometimes. It doesn’t mean we love you any less.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
The question was so blunt that Emily’s breath caught.
“Where’d that come from?”
“Sarah Parker’s parents split up. They argued over money first, just like you.”
Emily let go and turned to the window. Divorce. She *had* thought about it, especially these past months—when James made decisions without her, when they felt like strangers sharing a house.
“Mum?”
“Go get ready for school. Your head will clear.”
Lily sighed and left. Emily stayed by the window, clutching a cooling mug of tea.
“Morning,” James appeared in the doorway, rumpled and miserable.
“Morning,” she replied curtly.
“Listen, can we talk properly?” He slumped into a chair, rubbing his face. “I know I overreacted yesterday—”
“You didn’t *overreact*. You bought a car without asking me.”
“Em, but we *need* one! And I’m the one earning—”
“And what, I sit at home all day?” She spun around. “Or does my salary not count?”
“It *counts*. Just… you know…”
“Just what? You think because you’re the main earner, you get final say on *our* money?”
James stayed silent. His silence answered louder than words.
“Right,” Emily set her mug down hard. “Then *you* pay off the loan.”
“How’s that fair? We’re a family!”
“A family *talks* before making decisions. But no—you decided, you bought, and now *I* deal with the mess.”
James stood, stepping closer. “Em, why’re you being like this? We’ve been together twenty years—”
“Yes! Twenty years! And in all that time, you still don’t *listen*!”
She left him standing there, alone with his thoughts.
At work, Emily couldn’t focus. Her colleague Margaret noticed.
“Everything alright? You look exhausted.”
“Just… family stuff.”
“James at it again?” Margaret had known Emily for years—they’d worked in accounting together a decade.
“Bought a car. Expensive one. On finance.”
“Oof,” Margaret winced. “Been there. My Bert once bought a £300 vacuum—’To make your life easier!’ As if the old one wasn’t fine.”
“Marg,” Emily set down her pen, “did you ever… think about divorce?”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Course. Who hasn’t? But at our age, it’s like… starting over. Terrifying.”
“It’s not about age,” Emily sighed. “I just don’t see the point if he won’t *hear* me.”
“Or maybe you’re not hearing *him*?”
The question stopped Emily short. When *had* she last truly listened to James? Not brushed him off, but really *heard* him?
That evening, Emily came home drained. The kitchen smelled amazing—James was cooking. A rare sight.
“Mum, Dad’s made stew!” Lily grinned. “Proper, with beef!”
“Simmered for hours,” James added proudly. “How your mum likes it.”
Emily washed her hands in silence. The bathroom mirror showed her tired face—fine lines, grey roots she kept dyeing. Forty-three. More than half her life spent. Nearly half of it with James.
Dinner was quiet. James barely spoke. Lily chattered about school while her parents ate, avoiding each other’s eyes.
“Lily, go do your homework,” Emily finally said.
“But I haven’t finished—”
“Go on, love,” James murmured.
When they were alone, silence stretched. Emily stacked plates while James twisted a teaspoon in his fingers.
“Em,” he began haltingly, “I’ve been thinking… about us.”
She stilled but didn’t turn.
“And?”
“How we’ve grown apart. And how… it’s probably my fault.”
Now she faced him. James stared at the table, shoulders hunched.
“I never meant to upset you with the car. I just… wanted to surprise you. Make you happy.”
“James,” Emily sat opposite him, “it’s not the car. It’s you deciding *for* me. Like my opinion doesn’t matter.”
“It *does*! Of course it does!”
“Then why didn’t you *ask*?”
He looked up, and Emily saw genuine confusion.
“I dunno. Maybe… I was scared you’d say no. And I wanted… well…”
“Wanted what?”
“For us to have something nice. To be like other families—trips to your parents’ place, weekends away… The bus is such a faff.”
Emily realised then—he wasn’t being stubborn. Just clueless. A man who didn’t know how to say what he felt.
“Do you know what *I* want?” she asked softly.
“What?”
“For you to *talk* to me. To decide *together*—loans, holidays, money. To be partners, not just… married.”
James nodded.
“I get it. Really. So… what now with the car?”
“What do *you* think?”
“We could sell it. Get something cheaper, like you said.”
Emily blinked. She’d expected resistance, not this.
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Em, I don’t want us to split. I don’t wanna lose you. Or Lily.”
“Who said anything about splitting?”
“Lily asked this morning. Said you’d been thinking about it.”
Emily stood, walking to the window. There it was—that shiny, expensive boneThey stood there together, watching the rain wash the car’s gleaming surface, knowing that love wasn’t about the grand gestures but the quiet choices to stay and try again.
