James walked through the front door, still in his coat and shoes, and blurted out, “Emily, we need to talk.” His voice was serious, almost shaky.
Emily looked up from her book, one eyebrow raised. “Well, here we go,” she thought. “Midlife crisis, welcome to the party.” She gave him a careful once-oversomething she hadnt done properly in years (five? Six? Maybe even eight?).
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. For Emily, it was her entire life with James that flashed by. Theyd met the modern wayonline. Shed shaved off three years on her profile; hed added an inch to his height. Somehow, against the odds, theyd matched each others search criteria and found one another.
She couldnt remember who messaged first, but she knew his opening line had been witty, self-deprecating, and blessedly free of crude jokes. At thirty-three, well aware of her “market value,” Emily knew she wasnt at the front of the queue, but she wasnt completely off the grid either. For their first date, shed opted for understated elegancea smart jumper, rose-tinted glasses, a stylish bra, and a handbag stocked with homemade biscuits and a dog-eared copy of Jane Austen.
The date went surprisingly well (who knew dressing appropriately could work wonders?). Their romance burned bright and fast. Six months in, under relentless pressure from parents whod given up hope of ever becoming grandparents, James proposed. They introduced each other to their families, planned a small wedding, and booked the first available date, terrified someone might change their mind.
Life, Emily thought, was good. Their marriage was more temperate than tropicalno raging storms of passion, just gentle warmth and mutual respect. Wasnt that happiness? James, a classic blokes bloke, shed his short-lived “sensitive romantic poet with golden hands” act within weeks of marriage and settled into being exactly who he wasa steady, hardworking man in comfy joggers.
Emily, as the resident woman of the house, loosened the corset of her “mysterious, intellectual, domestic goddess” persona bit by bituntil pregnancy sped up the process. Within a year, shed happily swapped it all for a dressing gown and slippers.
The fact that neither of them mourned their abandoned personas, and neither held it against the other, only confirmed to Emily that theyd made the right choice. Life with two kids (born back-to-back) rocked their little boat hard sometimes, but it never capsized. When the storms passed, they sailed smoothly again.
Twelve years in, James had never once been caught flirtingnot even harmlessly. Emily wasnt the jealous type, so he couldve gotten away with it, but the idea of him trying was downright comical. Early on, hed admitted compliments werent his strong suit and adopted his own methodwide-eyed, owl-like admiration. Over time, Emily learned to read his entire emotional spectrum just from the roundness of his eyes: wild enthusiasm, quiet approval, baffled confusion, outright indignation.
Now, she pictured him batting his lashes at some random woman, eyes growing impossibly wider with each attempt at charm. Her throat went dry. She forced a nervous smile. “So whats her name, then?”
Jamess eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Howhow did you even? Wait, you think I? No, its not like that!” He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a tiny grey hamster with pink ears, a twitching nose, and beady black eyes. “Look at her! Shes perfect! So soft, so sweet just like you.”
Emily stared at him, at the hamster, at the way he cradled it like a treasure. And suddenly, she was over the moon. Because if James was going to fall in love with anything well, at least it was something that looked just like her.
