Go to the kitchen, now! I heard my husband sayand I couldnt take it anymore.
Emma stared at her phone screen. Andrew had texted for the fourth time in half an hour: Pick up the phone, you daft woman.
She was behind the wheel of the learner car, her instructor explaining parallel parking. The phone buzzed again.
Can I answer? My husbands worried.
Of course.
Andrew, Im driving
Why arent you picking up? Im calling!
I cant talk while
Right, got it. Passing your test is more important than your husband. Whenll you be home?
An hour.
Whos making dinner? Am I supposed to do it myself?
The instructor looked away, pretending not to hear.
Ill cook when I get back.
Good. Thought Id married some high-powered businesswoman for a minute.
At home, Andrew scrolled through his phone on the sofa. Three months since hed lost his jobsaid it was temporary, but the search dragged on.
Hows the driving lesson? Rocket science, is it? His voice held that familiar smirk.
Fine. We practiced parallel parking.
Oh, very serious. Proper skill, that.
Emma walked into the kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed disheshis breakfast.
Andrew, maybe we could finally sort those boxes? Its February, and we might as well have moved in yesterday.
He glanced up from his screen.
Whats there to sort? You can manage.
We could do it together. And tidy up while were at it.
Andrew stood and stepped closer. Something cold flickered in his eyes.
Go to the kitchen, now.
He said it quietly, but with absolute clarity. No shout. Just wordsand that silence was worse than any scream.
Emma froze.
What did you say?
You heard me. Make dinner.
We were talking about the boxes
Talking? You were nagging. I said youd manage alone.
Something inside Emma snapped. Not from hurtfrom understanding. She remembered the New Years party at his mates, where hed been the life of the room.
Flirting with every woman, cracking jokes, helping the hostess. Then, in the car afterward:
Why were you so quiet all night? Embarrassed?
Im not going to the kitchen!
He raised his eyebrows.
What?
I wont.
Emma, dont push me. We were getting on fine.
Fine? When was the last time you spoke to me like a person?
Andrew set his phone down.
Whats your problem? I was joking.
Joking? Pick up the phone, you daft womanthat a joke too?
Cant I text my own wife?
You can. But not like that.
Christ, whats the difference? You know I didnt mean anything.
I know. Thats why Ive stayed quiet this long.
Emma sat on the edge of the bed.
Know what my instructor said today? Youve got steady hands. Imagine that. Steady. Yet at home, Im scared to ask for help with boxes.
Scared?
Andrew laughed.
Oh, give over!
I am. Because I know youll twist it, make me feel worthless.
Thats rubbish! Youre imagining things.
Am I? Remember when you told your mates I was playing at driving lessons?
It was funny!
To you. To me, it was humiliating.
Andrew sat beside her on the sofa.
Look, if you dont like how I talk
Then what?
The doors right there.
Silence. Emma looked at him. No apology. No explanation. Just the door.
Fine.
She stood, pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, started packing.
Whatre you doing?
What you suggested.
Wherell you go?
To Sophies.
Youll storm off, have a cry, then come back. Like always.
Like always?
Women love a drama. Slam doors, moan to their mates.
Emma packed her documents, toiletries, charger.
Then crawl back later!
She reached for the wedding photo box. Pulled out a picturethem at the registry office, beaming.
Would you have spoken to me like this back then?
Andrew glanced at the photo.
People were watching.
And now?
Now its just family. I can relax.
Emma carefully put the photo back. Zipped the suitcase.
Relax. Right.
Wait. Lets talk.
Whats to talk about? Youve shown me exactly who I am to you at home.
In the hallway, she pulled on her coat. Andrew stood barefoot in his joggers.
Dont be daft! Every couple argues.
We werent arguing.
Emma gripped the door handle.
You just decided you could treat me like this now.
The door slammed. Behind her, his voice carried:
You wont get far!
Two weeks later, a text arrived: Meet me tomorrow, when Ive got time.
Her friend Sophie shook her head.
Why even see him?
I need to know Im right.
A café by the station. Andrew was half an hour late.
Howve you been?
He sat without apologising.
Fine.
Wherere you staying?
Sophies for now.
The for now slipped outan old habit of softening things.
Place is a tip. Dishes piled up, laundrys not done. Lucky the neighbour helped with shopping.
A waitress approacheda pretty brunette in her mid-twenties.
What can I get you?
Two coffees, Andrew said, smiling at her.
Anything sweet?
Our cakes are lovely
Bring us the best youve got.
He slid off his wedding ring, set it on the table.
No one to nag about chores now. Might as well treat myself.
The waitress giggled.
Can you cook?
Course! Mans got to eat. Less hassle without someone whinging about socks on the floor.
Emma stared at the ring.
Or begging for help tidying up.
He carried on. Right then, she realisedhe was turning their marriage into a joke for a stranger.
So, he turned back to her, end of the show? House is dead without you.
No.
No?
Im not coming back.
For the first time, Andrew actually looked at her.
Seriously?
Yes.
Emma stood, left cash for the coffee.
Wait. You know what youre doing?
I do. For the first time in months.
Emma! Were adults!
Exactly why Im leaving.
Outside, sleet fell. Through the window, Andrew was explaining something to the waitressno doubt complaining about his mad wife.
A month later, Emma rented a flat. Passed her test, started a new job.
Once, she spotted Andrew in the supermarketwith a younger woman. Laughing over groceries. She walked past unnoticed.
She wondered: how long before he tells her, Go to the kitchen, now? A month? Two?
That evening, Emma stood by her window with tea. Her phone lay silent on the table. No more texts calling her daft.
She thought of women who stay. Who believe he doesnt mean it, that all men are like this. And felt not judgment, but sorrow.
The phone lit upa colleagues message about tomorrows meeting. Professional, respectful.
Emma smiled, replied. Then sat on her sofain her home, where she could ask for help without fear of mockery.
