He Chose Work Over Me
“You… you… I can’t believe my ears! Its beyond comprehension! Your blasted job, your urgent calls, your endless business trips!” Emily swept a mug off the table, sending it crashing against the wall, splattering half-drunk tea everywhere. Shards scattered across the floor like confetti.
“Stop acting like a child, honestly!” Steven didnt even raise his voice, which only infuriated her more. She was boiling inside, while he stood there like a statue. “I cant cancel this trip, Em. Its about the promotion. You know that.”
“Promotion?!” she choked on her anger. “Your promotion always, always comes before us! Remember when you missed Lucys graduation? Didnt even call on my birthday, though I reminded you a week in advance! And now this! Tobys surgery is in two days, and youre flying off to your precious… Manchester!”
“To London,” Steven corrected automatically, then winced.
“As if that makes a difference! You could be flying to the moon for all I care!” Emily flailed her arms like a windmill. “You wont be there when your son goes under anaesthesia! When hes terrified out of his mind, when Im climbing the walls with fear! And all for some pointless piece of paper with a signature!”
Steven exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his stubble uneven, but his gaze stubborn as ever.
“Its not just some contract, Em. Its a shot at CFOtwenty years of work, my entire career! And Tobys surgery is routine. Its just tonsils, not a brain tumour.”
“Oh, sure! What if something goes wrong? What if there are complications?” She dug her nails into her palms. “What then, Steven?”
“Nothing will happen. I spoke to the surgeon myself.”
“And if it does?!” Her voice rose to a shrill pitch.
“Sit down, for Gods sake!” He jerked his shoulders. “If anything happens, Ill be on the first flight back! Like when Lucy had her appendix out, remember?”
“Oh, I remember!” she hissed, lips curling. “You crawled in eight hours later, when it was all over. The doctors had gone home, but there you were, heroically descending the stairs!”
Steven shook his head. “Im not made of elastic, Em. I cant split myself in two. Im killing myself so we have everything. Or have you forgotten how you nagged me about the new house? ‘Lets move, the neighbours are loud, the streets filthy, the Tubes too far'”
“Id rather still be in that cramped flat!” she shot back. “With a proper husband and father who sees his children more than just Sundays after lunch!”
Steven collapsed onto a chairall ninety kilos of himwith a thud. “Listen, we had an agreement, didnt we? You handle home, the kids, the comfort. I grind at work, bring in the money. Whats changed?”
Emily opened her mouth to unload, but the front door slammed open. Voices and the thud of schoolbags echoed from the hall.
“Fine. Well talk later,” she muttered, forcing a smile as she stormed outone so strained it hurt her cheeks.
Steven opened his laptop. He had a presentation to finish by evening, but his mind was fogged, thoughts scattering like mist.
Later, with the children asleep, Emily sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling her phone. She wasnt crying anymorejust numb. Twenty-two years of marriage, and each year felt like their relationship had become a balance sheet: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When had it all gotten so complicated?
Steven walked in and sat opposite her. “Coffee?” she asked flatly, not looking up.
“Please.” He hesitated. “Em, we need to talk.”
“About what?” She flicked the kettle on. “Its obvious. Youre flying out the day after tomorrow. Toby and I will go to the hospital alone.”
“Listen,” he said, stepping closer to lay tentative hands on her shoulders. “I know this is hard for you. But this promotionit matters.”
“More than us?” She turned, and in her eyes, he saw not anger but exhaustion and disappointment.
“Everything I do is for you. For our family.”
“No, Steven,” she shook her head. “Its for you. For your pride, your career. The kids and I have been on the back burner for years.”
“Thats not true.”
“Isnt it? When Toby found out about his surgery, do you know what he said? ‘At least its during Dads work triphed be stressed about missing meetings.’ Hes eleven, Steven. Hes already learnt to schedule his life around you.”
Steven stood silent, words failing him.
“And Lucy asked yesterday if youd come to her graduation next year. Not because she wants you therebecause shes afraid youll be ‘tied up with something important.'”
“Ill try to be there,” he muttered.
“‘Try,'” she echoed bitterly. “Always ‘try.’ And when did I realise youd chosen work over me? When I had the miscarriage. Ten years ago. You flew in two days after I was discharged.”
“I was in negotiations in Hong Kong,” he began.
“Exactly.” Her voice was flat. “You were in negotiations. I was losing our baby. Alone.”
She turned away, mechanically scooping coffee grounds into the press.
“You never brought it up,” he said quietly.
“Would it have changed anything? Youd have apologised, promised it wouldnt happen again, then chosen work the next time.”
Steven pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe you should talk to someone. A therapist.”
“Of course,” she scoffed. “The problems me, is it? Not that my husbands become a lodger who tops up the joint account, but that Im not cheerful enough about it?”
“Thats not what I meant. Youre catastrophising.”
“Am I?” She spun around. “When was the last parents evening you attended? Do you even know Tobys form tutors name? What Lucys dissertation is about?”
Silence.
“Exactly,” she said, setting his coffee down. “Youve missed our lives, Steven. And you keep missing them.”
He took a sip and wincedtoo strong, just like always when she was upset.
“Ill take leave this summer. Well go away, all of us.”
“Lucys booked a trip to Cornwall with her mates,” Emily reminded him. “And Tobys signed up for football camp.”
“You couldve warned me before planning!” Irritation edged his voice for the first time.
“I did. Twice. You said, ‘Sort it, well see.’ So we sorted it.”
Steven rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I dont remember.”
“You know whats worst?” Her gaze fixed somewhere past him. “Im starting to realise lifes easier without you here. When you are home, I keep hoping youll finally be presentnot just physically. And every time, Im disappointed.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked. “To turn down the promotion? Quit?”
“I want our children to have a father, not a bank account with legs. I want a husband, not a flatmate who occasionally sleeps here.”
“I cant throw away my career at fifty,” he said firmly. “Its too late to start over.”
“No ones asking you to. Just find balance.”
“Im trying!” he snapped, then lowered his voice, remembering the kids. “I am, Em. But you have to understand the demands of my role”
“Your role, your salary, your responsibilities,” she cut in. “I know the script by heart. Meanwhile, the kids are growing up without you. And so am I.”
“Thats unfair,” he muttered. “I always make time at weekends.”
“When work doesnt interfere,” she said dryly. “Which happens, what, once a month?”
Silence settled. Outside, cars hummed; inside, only the clocks ticking and the fridges drone filled the space.
“I cant cancel the trip,” Steven said finally. “But Ill move it a day later. Ill take Toby to the hospital.”
“Youve already booked flights.”
“Ill change them. And Ill call every hour until they say hes out of surgery.”
Emily gave a joyless smile. “Think thatll fix everything?”
“No,” he admitted. “But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Em. Truly.”
“You already have,” she said softly. “And I dont know if its fixable.”
—
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and footsteps. Emily sat on a hard chair outside the operating theatre, twisting the strap of her bag. Toby had been inside over an hour, though the surgeon promised forty minutes.
Beside her, Lucy
