**The Joy of a Shared Flat**
Waiting for her husband to return from work, Sophie sat at the kitchen table sipping thyme tea, taking slow, deliberate sips. Hearing the key turn in the lock, she stood and lingered in the doorway. In walked George, stern and silent.
“Hello,” she said first. “Late again. Ive already had dinnerjust waiting for you.”
“Hello,” George replied. “You didnt need to wait. Im not hungry. Actually, I wont be staying longjust here to pack a few things.” Still in his shoes, he strode to the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out a suitcase.
Sophie froze, bewildered, as he tossed in whatever came to hand.
“George, explain. Whats happening?”
“Dont you see? Im leaving you,” he said flatly, avoiding her gaze.
“Where to?”
“Another woman.”
“Oh, let me guesssomeone younger. Though youre hardly old yourself. Forty is no age,” Sophie retorted, sharpness creeping into her voice as reality settled in. *I wont cry. He wont see my tears.* “How long has this been going on?”
“Nearly a year,” George replied calmly. “If you didnt notice, thats on you. I hid it well.”
“Is this permanent?” she asked suddenly.
“Sophie, are you even listening? Im leaving you for her. Were expecting a childthe son you couldnt give me. You have a month to move out. Where you go is your problem. Katya and I will live here with our boy.”
And with that, he left. The walls seemed to press in, the silence unbearable. She turned on the TV just to hear another voice. Twelve years together, and it took her a week to pull herself together.
Her parents early passing had left her a cottage in the countryside, but the thought of living there alone was unbearable.
“I cant do it,” Sophie thought. “No work, no conveniencesat thirty-five, village life isnt for me.” She decided to sell the cottage and use the money for a room in a shared flat.
Neighbour Barbara was waiting when she arrived.
“Sophie, love, so glad youre here. We were about to come looking for you!”
“Why? Whats happened?”
“My relatives want to buy your place. Theyre from up northlooking for a fixer-upper to tear down and rebuild. Wanted to be near family.”
“Perfect timing!” Sophie said. “Lets settle on a price. Heres my number.”
The sale was quick. With the modest sum, she bought a tiny room in a converted flat. Shared kitchen, two other tenantsquiet, decent people. She rarely saw them, working long hours.
Then came Tim, a colleague. Things seemed promisinguntil just before International Womens Day.
“I need space,” he said. “Unsure about my feelings. Lets take a break.”
“Take a break? Oh, sod off!” she snapped.
Fuming, she stormed home. Thirty-six and no time for games. Stress-eating was the planuntil she found her ham missing.
“Who took my ham?” she shouted.
“Love, I tossed it days ago,” Vera murmured. “Itd gone green. Didnt want you risking your health.”
“You dont get to decide what I eat!” Sophie raged.
Veras husband, John, peered over his newspaper. “Shes upset with someone else, Vera. Dont take it personally.”
“And what would you know?” Sophie shot back.
“Enough.”
“Oh, so wise! Yet here you are, in this dump.”
Vera retreated. Sophie slammed her door, seething.
An hour later, guilt set in. That ham *had* been old. She apologised to Vera, who hugged her.
“Join us for tea. But you owe John an apologyhes a professor. Had a lovely flat, a career he adored. But when his wife fell illbrain cancerhe sold everything for treatment abroad. She didnt make it. Now hes here.”
The next evening, Sophie knocked on Johns door with a gift.
“Forgive me,” she said.
He smiled. “Only if you join my birthday celebration.”
Over cake, she opened upher naive affair as a student, the forced termination, the infertility that drove George away.
Then Veras son, Robert, arrived. Charming, well-travelleda former geologist, now a lorry driver. They talked for hours.
Three days later, before his next trip, he asked, “Will you wait for me?”
“Of course.”
Their romance blossomed into love. They married, moved to his flat, and a year later, baby Archie arrived. When Roberts away, Sophie returns to the shared flatwhere Vera and John dote on their grandson. The best babysitters she could ask for.
