Late from work again? Lately, the workload had piled up, leaving him burning the midnight oil more often than not.
Emily tucked the children into bed and wandered into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea. Still no sign of James. These days, he was always buried in work, coming home later and later. She pitied him, shielding him from household worriesafter all, he was the sole breadwinner. After their wedding, theyd agreed: shed manage the home and their future children while James ensured their comfort. Three kids later, each arrival had thrilled him, and hed insisted they shouldnt stop there.
But Emily was exhaustedendless nappies, mashed peas, and sleepless nights had worn her down. Shed decided to press pause on expanding their brood.
James finally stumbled in past midnight, slightly merry. When she asked why he was so late, he grinned. “We were all knackered, love. Fancied letting off a bit of steam.”
“My poor hardworking man!” Emily teased, forcing a smile. “Come on, let me fix you a plate.”
“No need. Grabbed a bite at the pubruined my appetite. Best turn in.”
With Mothers Day approaching, Emily left the kids with her mum and headed to the shopping centre. She wanted to celebrate properly this yeara romantic dinner, just the two of them. Her mum was happy to take the little ones overnight.
Besides groceries and gifts, Emily decided to treat herself. It had been agesshe felt guilty dipping into Jamess earnings for clothes, and walking in her worn-out trainers hardly counted as shopping. Her last proper purchase? A sensible housecoat, hardly fitting for a special evening. She browsed a boutique, selected a few dresses, and slipped into a changing room.
As she wriggled into the second dress, a familiar voice drifted from the next cubicle. “Mmm, cant wait to get you out of that.”
Giggles followed.
“Patience, you devil! Go pick something nice for your wife instead.”
“What for? Shes knee-deep in nappies. Kids dont care if shes wearing ragsas long as theyre fed, changed, and their toys are tidied! Ill get her a blender. Or a breadmakershell be thrilled!”
Emily froze, her stomach dropping. She mechanically continued trying on dresses, ears straining.
“If she asks where you blew all that cash,” the woman tittered, “a blender and breadmaker dont cost *that* much…”
“And why should I justify how I spend *my* money? *Im* the one working while she lounges at home wanting for nothing! I give her an allowanceshe should be grateful!”
Their voices faded as they left the cubicle. Peeking out, Emily saw James at the till with a bleached blonde, kissing her boldly as he paid.
“Everything alright in there?” A shop assistants voice snapped her back.
“Yes! Yes, fine.” She yanked the curtain shut and thrust the dresses at the clerk. “Ill take them all.”
At home, after her mum left and the kids napped, Emily sat numbly. What now? The betrayal stung, but worse was his utter dismissal of her.
She wanted to bolt, demand a divorcebut forced herself to think. *Fine, I leave him. He swans off with his floozy, and Im left penniless with three kids. Child support? Peanuts. How do we survive?*
By evening, her decision was made. James didnt come home late that night*mustve had his fill earlier*, she thought flatly. Every scrap of love had evaporated. He was a stranger now. The only discomfort? The thought of him expecting intimacy when shed sooner hug a cactus.
But James, apparently satiated by his mistress, didnt bother.
The next day, Emily drafted a CV and fired it off to agencies. Now, she began each day checking her inbox. Finallyan interview. At Jamess firm, no less. After deliberation, she went.
Two hours later, the hiring manager offered her a solid position with flexible hours. The pay wasnt grand yet, but enough to keep her and the kids afloat.
She floated home. Her mum pounced with questions.
“Mum, James is cheating!” Emily blurted, bizarrely cheerful. Convinced her daughter had cracked, her mother steered her to the sofa.
“Emily, what nonsense! James works himself to the bone!”
“Works? Hes shagging some tart!” She spilled the changing-room saga. Her mum listened, then asked, “So whats your plan?”
“Divorce. AndIve got a job! Once the kids are all in nursery, Ill go full-time.”
“Wont stop you. No forgiving betrayal. And the way he belittles you? Disgraceful. Ill help with the kids.”
“Thanks, Mum.” Emily hugged her tightly.
On the seventh, James rolled in late again. Emily ignored his excuses. Bemused by her indifference, he blathered, “Late at the office again, love”
“Bed,” she cut in.
The next morning, as she fed the children breakfast, James presented her with a gifta breadmaker.
“To lighten your load, darling!” He leaned in for a kiss, but she recoiled, not even glancing at it.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Baffled, he followed her to the hallway, where two massive suitcases waited.
“Were divorcing. No more sneaking around.”
“Howd you find out?” he spluttered.
“Changing rooms. While you were buying your blonde something nice. Keep the breadmakershe might appreciate it.”
Cornered, James snarled, “Jealous, are you? Shes gorgeous, passionate, *put together*unlike you! Youve let yourself go! Drowning in kids, living off *my* money! And you dare police my spending? Materialistic cow!”
“Not jealous,” Emily said calmly. “Leave.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, her mother-in-law hammered on the door, shrieking, “Gold-digging slag! Kicked him out, now milking him dry? Drop the claim!”
“Hes supporting *his* childrenthe ones *he* wanted,” Emily shot back. “If his mistress misses his cash, thats *his* problem.”
“Whatll you do without his money? Popped out kids to ride his back forever? Wont work! Hell slash his declared incomeyoull get pennies!”
“Try it.” Emily pointed at the door. “Out, before I call the police.”
Cursing, the woman left.
Months passed. Nursery spots opened one by one. Once the youngest started, Emily went full-time.
“Hello.” Jamess voice at her desk. “Fancy a chat?”
“Sorry, swamped,” she said, not looking up.
“Lunch, then?”
She met his eyestired, frayed. Rumor had it his blonde had booted him upon learning half his wages would vanish. Emily couldnt care less.
“No, James. No chats. No lunches. Goodbye.”
