Divided It the Best I Could

**”Divided, As Best I Could”**

“Hello, Mum.” Emily tried to sound as if nothing was wrong, but her voice came out stiff and hollow.

“Oh, Emmeline! What a surprise—I wasn’t expecting you today!” replied Margaret Whitaker.

Emily studied her mother’s face. *”Wasn’t expecting”*—the words latched onto her heart like a burr, then echoed loudly in her mind. *Wasn’t expecting.* Lately, it seemed no one ever was.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a statue! Come in, I’m just bottling the pickles. Did you drop by, or is something the matter? Everything alright with Oliver?”

“Everything’s fine, Mum. With Oliver, I mean. We rented him and his girlfriend a flat. Michael paid three months upfront—after that, they’re on their own…”

Emily watched her mother. As usual, she was busy with chores. Always rushing, always late—that was Margaret. *”Hurry up, love,”* *”Just nipping to the shops, they’ve got fresh delivery,”* *”Stay here, I’ll go,”* *”Not now, Emily, can’t you see I’m busy?”* Margaret cared about practical things. *”Wait”* was her favourite word.

“Em, pour yourself some tea, won’t you? No time—I’ve still got jars to sterilise. Alright?”

“Sure, Mum.” Emily filled a cup, though she didn’t want tea.

“So, why’d you come, then?”

“Mum… did you ever think about leaving Dad?” Emily’s voice wavered.

“What? No, course not! Why trade one fool for another? They’re all the same, these men. Why?”

“I… I want a divorce.”

“*What?* What’s happened? Has he been unfaithful?” Margaret stopped wiping the jar, stunned.

“No, nothing like that. We’ve just… grown apart. Oliver’s moved out, started his own life. I think Michael and I should call it quits.”

“Good grief, what’s got into you?!”

“Today’s our twenty-fifth anniversary. This morning, he didn’t say a word. Just asked where his socks were and how long till breakfast. That’s it.” Emily’s voice cracked.

“That’s *it*? Emmeline, don’t be daft! A wedding anniversary—big deal! Your father never bought me so much as a daffodil, and I never minded. Why waste money on nonsense?” Margaret scoffed.

Emily blinked back tears. She shouldn’t have come. Her mother never understood.

“Oh, don’t start blubbering! Honestly, divorce is such a hassle—splitting the house, the holiday cottage, the car… And what about your savings? I always kept cash at home, tucked away. Now you’ll have to sell that lovely three-bed! After all the money you sank into it!”

Emily barely listened as Margaret prattled on about equity and percentages. The heaviness in her chest deepened.

“Listen, love—go home and forget this nonsense. Fancy some roses? I’ll cut you a bunch from the garden—they’ll wilt soon anyway.”

“No, thanks.” Emily sniffed.

“Suit yourself. You off, then? They’ve got cheap compost at the garden centre—want some?”

Emily shook her head and hurried out. Staying in that house was unbearable.

She headed for the bus stop but changed her mind, veering onto the footpath toward the riverside. Her phone buzzed—Oliver.

“Hi, Mum. Got a minute? Need to talk—urgent.”

“Of course. Meet me at The Willow Café in an hour?”

“Perfect. Actually… I’ve got something to tell you too.”

Twenty minutes later, she sat nursing a coffee. Oliver arrived, breathless.

“Mum, listen… Milena’s pregnant.”

Emily froze. Oliver had only moved in with his girlfriend weeks ago. At forty-five, she wasn’t ready to be a grandmother.

“Mum? You there?”

“It’s just… sudden, Ol. Are you sure you can manage?”

“Course! You’ll help, won’t you? Anyway, what did *you* want to say?”

“Sweetheart… how would you feel if Dad and I divorced?”

“Wait—you’re splitting up? Why?”

“We’re strangers now. Today’s our silver anniversary, and he forgot.”

“Right. Well, do what you want—I’m grown. Gotta dash.”

Emily paid for her coffee and trudged home, though the thought of returning made her sick. She mechanically stopped at Tesco, cooked dinner.

Michael came home late, rambling about his boss and his mate Andrew’s new car. Emily nodded along.

The next morning, he left for work. She washed the dishes, torn between resentment and the weight of twenty-five years. Was she overreacting? Then Oliver called again.

“Mum, about yesterday… I’ve been thinking. You should divide the assets *before* the divorce—skip the courts. Sell the three-bed, get two one-bed flats. Sell the cottage too, split the cash—Milena and I could use a two-bedder. It’s the smart move.”

“Maybe, Ol. Let’s talk later.”

She hung up, numb. She changed and walked to the river, sinking onto her favourite bench. A man sat there already.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all! Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.”

“You seem down,” he remarked.

“Bit of a rough patch.”

“Wait here—I know just the thing!” He returned minutes later with two ice lollies.

“Read somewhere that ice cream’s got happiness hormones. Fancy testing the theory?”

Emily laughed despite herself. The icy sweetness made her feel like a child again.

“I’m William, by the way.”

“Emmeline. Pleasure.”

They strolled along the Thames as William spoke of his divorce six months prior—how he’d left everything to his practical ex, chasing dreams of travel. Emily pictured herself stepping into a new life beside him.

…At home, Michael scowled. “Where’ve you been? No dinner ready.”

“There won’t *be* any. I’m leaving you.”

“Suit yourself!”

“Funny how easily you let me go.”

“Won’t beg you to stay,” he snapped.

The next day, Emily rented a flat. The landlady handed her keys.

“Lift’s busted—seven floors on foot, I’m afraid.”

“No trouble.”

Halfway up, a voice called: “Need a hand? Which floor?”

“William?!”

“Emmeline?! What brings you here?”

“Seventh floor—my new place.”

“Blimey! I’m on the eighth!”

He carried her suitcase up, then vanished. Oliver called again—he’d found a buyer for the cottage. “Sell it, then,” she said flatly.

That evening, William knocked with lilies. “Housewarming!”

Her favourites.

Three months later, the divorce was final. Michael and Oliver sold the cottage, short-changed her. She didn’t fight it.

William baked a cake for their first anniversary. Emily finally understood—it’s never too late to start anew.

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Divided It the Best I Could