**A Hasty Farewell: A Car Goodbye and the Return Home**
He stepped out of the car and tenderly bid farewell to his lover before heading home. Upon arrival, he lingered by the building for a moment, mentally rehearsing how to break the news to his wife. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.
“Hello,” called Edward. “Are you home, Beatrice?”
“I am,” replied his wife, indifferent. “Hello. Shall I start frying the steaks?”
Edward promised himself he would act decisivelywith confidence and resolve, as a man ought to! It was time to end his double life before his lovers kisses lost their warmth, before he was swallowed again by the tedium of routine.
“Beatrice,” Edward cleared his throat, “Ive come to tell you we must separate.”
Beatrice took the news with surprising calm. She had always been unshakablethe very reason Edward affectionately called her “Frozen Beatrice.”
“Really?” she asked from the kitchen doorway. “Should I not fry the steaks, then?”
“As you like,” said Edward. “Fry them if you want, dont if you dont. Im leaving. Theres someone else.”
Most wives would have thrown something at him by now. But Beatrice was not like most.
“Oh, you and your whims,” she replied. “Did you fetch my boots from the repair shop?”
“No,” Edward faltered. “If it matters, I can go and get them now!”
“Ah, Edward,” murmured Beatrice. “Send a fool to fetch boots, and youll get the old ones back.”
Edward took offense. The whole separation announcement wasnt going as planned. It was all so devoid of emotion! But what else could he expect from a wife nicknamed Frozen Beatrice?
“Beatrice, are you even listening?” he exclaimed. “Im leaving. Im going to live with another woman, and all you care about are boots!”
“Fine,” replied Beatrice. “Unlike me, you can go wherever you please. Your boots arent at the shop. Nothings holding you back.”
They had lived together for years, yet Edward still couldnt tell if she was serious or sarcastic. Back then, hed fallen for her gentle nature, her ability to avoid conflict, her economy with words. Not to mention her homemaking skills and her striking looks.
Beatrice was steady, loyal, and cold as an anchor. But now Edward loved anothera forbidden, burning passion! It was time to cut ties and start anew.
“Beatrice, I thank you for everything, but Im leaving because I love another woman, not you.”
“What a shock!” Beatrice exclaimed. “You dont love mehow original! My mother adored the neighbour, my father loved dominoes and wine. Look how I turned out.”
Edward knew arguing with her was futile. Every word weighed him down. His earlier resolve withered.
“Youre wonderful, Beatrice,” he said, resigned. “But I love anotherwildly and forbidden. I mean to go, do you understand?”
“Another?” she asked. “Is it Emily Fairchild?”
Edward recoiled. A year ago, hed had a fling with Emily, but hed thought it secret!
“How do you know?” he began, then stopped. “Never mind. Its not her.”
Beatrice yawned.
“Then is it Sophie Whitmore? Fancy running off with her?”
A chill ran down Edwards spine. Hed also had an affair with Sophie, but that was over. If Beatrice knew, why hadnt she spoken? Ah, yesshe was iron, unbreakable.
“No, not Sophie or Emily. Its someone else, the woman of my dreams. I cant live without her.”
“Then it must be Sonia,” muttered Beatrice. “Honestly, Edward what a poorly kept secret! The woman of your dreams is Sonia Reynolds. Thirty-five, one child, two miscarriages Am I right?”
Edward clutched his head. Shed guessed it! He *was* seeing Sonia Reynolds.
“But how did you know?” he stammered. “Did someone tell you? Were you following me?”
“Simple, Edward,” said Beatrice. “Im a gynaecologist. Ive examined nearly every woman in this town, while youve only managed a few. It wasnt hard to figure out.”
Edward steadied himself.
“Suppose youre right! Even if its Sonia, Im still going.”
“Youre a fool, Edward,” said Beatrice. “You couldve at least asked me first. Theres nothing special about Soniamedically speaking, shes just like the rest. Have you even seen her records?”
“N-no,” Edward admitted.
“Well then! Go shower immediately. Tomorrow Ill speak to Dr. Whitakerhell see you at the clinic without delay,” said Beatrice. “Then well talk. Really, the husband of a doctor should know better than to pick an unhealthy mistress!”
“What should I do?” Edward asked, defeated.
“Ill fry the steaks,” said Beatrice. “You go shower and do as you please. If you want a flawless muse, come to meI can recommend a few.”
