While Kate was paying at the till, Jack lingered a few steps behind. As she began packing the groceries, he drifted outside. Stepping out of the shop, Kate found Jack leaning against the wall, smoking.
“Jack, take the bags, please,” Kate said, holding out two heavy shopping bags.
Jack stared at her as if shed asked something outrageous. “And what about you?” he scoffed.
Kate frowned. What did he mean? A man should helpit was only natural. It felt wrong for her to struggle with the weight while he walked empty-handed.
“Jack, theyre heavy,” she insisted.
“So?” he shot back, stubborn. He could see her irritation but refused on principle. *”Carry the bags? What am I, a packhorse? Some servant? Im a manIll decide when I lift a finger. Let her manage aloneshe wont collapse!”* He quickened his pace, leaving her behind, enjoying the sting of humiliation hed dealt her.
“Jack, where are you going? Take the bags!” Kate called, her voice trembling.
The bags *were* heavyJack knew, having loaded the trolley himself. Home wasnt far, just five minutes on foot, but weighed down, the journey felt endless.
Kate trudged home, blinking back tears. She half-expected him to turn back, joking, but he never did. The urge to drop everything nearly won, but mechanically, she pressed on. At the doorstep, she sank onto the bench, exhausted. Anger and weariness clawed at her, but she refused to cry in public. Yet swallowing this? No. He hadnt just slighted herhed *meant* to. And this from the man who once doted on her before theyd wed.
“Hello, Kate!” A neighbours voice cut through her thoughts.
“Hello, Mrs. Wilkins,” Kate forced a smile.
Mrs. WilkinsMargaretlived downstairs and had been close to Kates late grandmother. After her passing, shed stepped in as family. Kates mother lived miles away with a new husband and children; her father was a ghost. Margaret was all she had left.
Without hesitation, Kate decided to give her the groceries. Carrying them hadnt been for nothing. Margarets pension was tight, and Kate loved treating her to little luxuries.
“Come on, Mrs. Wilkins, Ill help you up,” Kate said, hefting the bags again.
In Margarets kitchen, she unloaded tinned salmon, pâté, peaches in syrupsmall indulgences Margaret adored but rarely bought. The older womans gratitude pricked Kates guilt for not doing this more often. They parted with a kiss, and Kate climbed the stairs to her flat.
Inside, Jack wandered from the kitchen, chewing.
“Where are the bags?” he asked, casual as if nothing had happened.
“What bags?” Kate mirrored his tone. “The ones you helped carry?”
“Dont be dramatic,” he laughed weakly. “Youre not still cross?”
“No,” she said calmly. “Ive just drawn my conclusions.”
Jack stiffened. Hed expected shouting, tearsnot this icy calm.
“What conclusions?”
“I dont have a husband,” Kate sighed. “Thought Id married one, but it turns out I married a child.”
“Now thats unfair,” he bristled.
“Is it?” She held his gaze. “I want a man who acts like one. And youseems you want a woman who acts like a man too.” A pause. “So what you really need is a husband.”
Jacks face flushed; fists clenched. But Kate didnt seeshe was already in the bedroom, packing his things.
He fought it till the end. How could something so petty wreck a marriage?
“It wasnt a big deal! Whats wrong with carrying bags?” he protested as she tossed clothes into his suitcase.
“Your suitcasehope you can carry it *yourself*,” Kate said, tuning him out.
She knew this was just the first warning. If she swallowed disrespect now, worse would follow. So she ended it, shutting the door on himand on the life shed outgrown.
**Sometimes walking away isnt defeatits choosing the battles that truly matter.**
