Marina is now certain that women who divorced young and lived without a husband are far happier. That’s her view, shaped by her own experience.
“Some might disagree,” she tells her friend Nadine, “but this is what I believe now.”
“Perhaps,” Nadine hesitates, “but every woman has her own path, so it’s not fair to speak for everyone. Some find happiness in a second marriage, or even a third.”
“I won’t argue,” Marina replies, “but I stand by my opinion. In my case, the stress was unbearable, and now I’ve got old age ahead. He trampled on my feelings. I don’t trust anyone now.”
Marina, her husband Gregory, her mother-in-law who lived down the hall, and their fourteen-year-old son Anthony had spent New Year’s Eve at home. The table was set, the evening pleasant, the family together. On New Year’s Day, they slept late—fireworks and firecrackers had kept them up. Only her mother-in-law left early.
But that year began badly for Marina. After lunch, Gregory vanished. He drove off without a word, leaving no clue.
By nightfall, she couldn’t sleep. Dark thoughts swirled—what if he’d crashed? What if he was hurt?
His phone was off. She barely slept, rising with a headache and high blood pressure. Then, as Anthony slept, a text arrived: *”Don’t look for me. I’ve left you.”*
Her hands shook. Should she show her mother-in-law? No—why upset her? But then—what if she was in on it?
She marched next door. “Look what your son sent me.”
“Marina, that can’t be! He never said a word. Didn’t you notice anything?”
“I thought you might’ve known.”
“Never! If I had, I’d have knocked sense into him. But it’s too late now.” Her voice trembled. “I’m on your side, always. I won’t accept that—that *bastard*.”
Relieved he was alive but furious at his betrayal, Marina ignored breakfast. He’d sneaked away like a coward.
She called again. A woman answered.
“Who is this?” Marina asked.
“His wife,” the woman said. “And you?”
Marina lied—”A friend’s wife. Where are you?”—then set out after feeding Anthony.
“Mum, where’s Dad?” he asked.
“Gone. I don’t know where.” She avoided his eyes.
She called Nadine. “Gregory left me for another woman. I’m going to see them.”
“Do you want me with you?”
“No. I’ll handle it.”
The bus took her to a row of terraced houses. The door was unlocked. Inside, Gregory and the woman sat eating.
He stood, shocked. “Who is this?” the woman demanded.
“His *real* wife,” Marina said. “We have a son. Who are *you*?”
The woman paled.
“Get out!” Gregory roared.
“You told me she died two years ago!” the woman cried.
“I didn’t want to lose you, Veronica,” he whined.
Marina laughed bitterly. “He buried me alive—and his own mother too! I’m filing for divorce. Enjoy your happy ending.”
At home, Nadine rushed over. “Marina, what happened?”
“He told her I was dead. Buried his mother too, apparently.”
Nadine sat stunned. “Unbelievable.”
Gregory left them the flat but took the car, acting as if he’d done her a favour.
She told her mother-in-law, “Your son buried us both. The flat doesn’t make up for the years I wasted.”
She remembered nursing him after surgery. Now, barely a year later, he’d betrayed her.
Anthony took it calmly. “Mum, we don’t need him. We’ll manage.”
She kissed his head. “You’re so grown up.”
Now it’s just Marina and her son. Her mother-in-law still treats her kindly but has cut ties with Gregory. Seems he really did bury them both.
