**Diary Entry**
He still isnt home. Lately, hes been swamped with work, coming back later each evening. Emily put the children to bed and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. John hadnt returned yet. These days, he was drowning in exhaustion and deadlines, always delayed. Emily pitied him and tried to spare him from household worries. After all, he was the only one bringing money into the house.
Right after their wedding, theyd agreed shed take care of the home and their future children while John provided for the family. One by one, their three children arrived. John had been overjoyed each time, declaring he had no intention of stopping there.
Emily, though, was worn out by endless nappies, formula feeds, and sleepless nights. She decided to take a break from having more children.
John came home well past midnight, slightly tipsy. When she asked why he was so late, he shrugged.
“Emily, we were buried in workneeded to unwind a bit.”
“My love,” she smiled. “Come, let me fix you something to eat.”
“Dont bother. Had some chicken wingslost my appetite. Best just head to bed.”
Mothers Day was approaching. Emily, having asked her mum to watch the kids, went to the shopping centre. She wanted to make the day special: a romantic dinner just for the two of them. Her mother agreed without hesitation.
Alongside groceries and gifts, Emily decided to treat herself. It had been agesshe felt awkward asking John for money just for clothes, and where would she even wear them? The last thing shed bought was a housecoat, but it wouldnt do for their planned evening. So she stepped into a boutique, picked a few dresses, and slipped into the fitting room.
She was trying on the second dress when she heard his voice from the next cubicle.
“Mmm, cant wait to get you out of this.”
Giggles followed his words.
“Patience, you devil! Go pick something for your wife!”
“Why bother? Shes too busy with the kids. They dont care what she wearsjust fed, changed, and toys tidied! Ill get her a slow cooker. Or maybe a bread makershell love that!”
A cold shiver ran through Emily. She kept mechanically trying on dresses, straining to listen.
“But what if she asks where the money went? Bread makers arent that expensive,” the girl teased.
“Why should I justify how I spend my money? I work; she stays home! I give her a fixed amountits enough! She should be grateful.”
The fitting session ended, and the voices faded. Peeking out, Emily saw John at the till with a blonde, paying for their things. Right there, he kissed herno shame, not even with the cashier watching.
“Everything alright?” the shop assistant asked, noticing Emily still in the cubicle.
“Yes, fine!” she replied, stepping out and handing back the dresses.
At home, Emily thanked her mum and put the children down for their nap. She began making plans. Shed never expected such betrayal. Not just the cheatingbut the dismissal of everything she did for their family. In one moment, it all became worthless. She wanted to leave immediately, file for divorcebut stopped herself.
“If I divorce him, hell run off to his blonde, and Ill be left with the kids, no income. Child support? Probably peanuts. How would we live?”
By evening, shed made her decision. That night, John came home unusually earlyno work excuse. “Probably saw her earlier in the day,” Emily thought coldly. Every feeling for him had vanished. He was a stranger now. The only worry was if hed want intimacyshe couldnt stomach it.
But it seemed hed gotten his fill elsewhere, so he didnt approach her.
The next morning, Emily updated her CV and sent it off. Then came the agonising wait. Every day, she checked her emails. Finally, a responsean interview at a firm in town. The same one where John worked. She debated going but decided she had to.
With her mum watching the children, Emily attended the interview. After two hours, they offered her a decent positionflexible hours. The pay wasnt much at first, but enough to support herself and the kids.
She floated home, elated. Her mother, seeing her joy, pressed for details.
“Mum, Johns cheating on me!” Emily blurted out, grinning. Thinking stress had unhinged her, her mum pulled her onto the sofa.
“Emily, how can you say that? John works all day!”
“Hes not workinghes with his mistress!” Emily recounted everything from the fitting room. Her mother listened, then asked,
“What will you do?”
“Divorce him! And yes, Ive got a job with flexible hours. Once I secure nursery spots, Im working full-time!”
“Good! Betrayal shouldnt be forgiven. This is just the starthe doesnt even see you as a person anymore. Ill help with the kids.”
“Thanks, Mum!” Emily hugged her tightly.
That evening, John came home late again. Emily didnt ask. Confused by her indifference, he tried explaining:
“Emily, the lads and I lost track of time”
“Just go to bed,” she cut him off.
The next morning, as Emily served breakfast, John triumphantly presented her a bread maker.
“Darling, to make your life easier!” He leaned in for a kiss, but she stepped back, ignoring the gift.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Baffled, John followed her to the hall, where two large suitcases waited.
“Were divorcing. No more lies about where youve been.”
“How did you?”
“I heard everything in the fitting room. Give the bread maker to your blondeI dont need it.”
Caught, John lashed out.
“Jealous Ive got someone else? Someone beautiful, passionate, put-togetherunlike you! Youve let yourself go, stuck at home with the kids, living off my money! It doesnt matter what I spend on! And youve no right to question meyoure just a greedy wife!”
“I dont care,” Emily said calmly. “Leave.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, his mother banged on the door, shrieking before hello.
“Gold-digger! You threw him out and now take his money? Drop the maintenance!”
“Hes paying for his childrenthe ones he wanted!” Emily shot back. “If he cant afford his mistress now, thats his problem. Hes as much a parent as I am!”
“What will you do without his money? Had kids to live off him forever? Hell get his salary cutyoull get crumbs! Youll come crawling back!”
“Unlikely.” Emily pointed to the door. “Get out before I call the police.”
Months later, nursery spots opened up. Once the youngest started, Emily returned to full-time work.
“Hi,” came his voice at her desk one day. “Can we talk?”
“Busy, John,” she replied without looking up.
“Lunch, maybe?”
She finally met his gaze. He looked exhausted. The blonde, realising half his salary went to child support, had dumped him. But it didnt matter anymore.
“No, John. Were not talking. And were not having lunch.”
