27April
Ive come to the bitter realisation that love can shatter into a cold, silent divorce without any warning, leaving the illusion of a safe home in tatters.
Where have you been? I asked as soon as he walked through the front door after three weeks away.
Its fine, he replied, his tone flat. Im knackered, like a dog. Those business trips have drained me.
Cant you just quit? I said, staring out the kitchen window.
Thats the trouble, he sighed. Besides you, no ones waiting for me, and I dont want to let my colleagues down.
You understand, love, I whispered, trying to soften the edge.
I understand enough, he muttered, and we fell into an uneasy silence.
I already knew Edward hadnt been on any assignment. I was certain where hed spent his days and with whom. So why was I keeping my voice so calm? There were good reasons.
The next morning, after his departure, I found his passport tucked under the sofa. How could he travel without his passport? I wondered. I called him.
Are you all right? I asked.
Everythings fine, he said.
Where are you now?
On the train, he assured me.
I hung up and thought, If he doesnt have his passport, either hes using another or hes lying. No trip means theres another woman, and hes probably with her now. Tomorrow hell go to work as if nothing happened, and Ill see it then.
At eight to ten on a crisp morning I waited outside the entrance to his office in Manchester. When Edward finally slipped inside, a thought flickered through my mind: No other woman? Keep your composure. Find out where he goes after work and confront her. When the day ended I followed him.
The truth emerged quicker than Id expected. A chatty neighbour, Vera Patel, 35, whod bought a flat two years ago, confessed that shed been seeing Edward for the past six months. The pieces fell into place, but an inner voice warned me to tread carefully.
Emily! a disembodied voice shouted suddenly. Now isnt the time for a fight.
Why not? I snapped.
Because youre rattledhands shaking, breath quick, hate bubbling inside. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? How will you even start this conversation looking like that?
The whisper continued, If you start a scene, theyll both pity you, then laugh and rejoice once youre out of the picture. Is that what you want?
That inner counsel gave me a frosty clarity. I decided I would end things without explanationsquietly, indifferently, in a way that would sting Edward. A plan formed in my head:
Tell him were divorcing, period.
Hell press for reasons.
Ill say there are none.
This is simply because Ive decided it.
Then Ill respond with cold indifference, a silent sneer, outright rudeness.
The voice approved, Do it quietly, brazenly, calmlyhit his pride hardest.
Bolstered, I pretended to believe his stories about work and travel for a few days, feeding him the illusion that the old love still lingered.
The first words after his return were laced with sympathy. The next day, when he came home from work, the performance began. He strutted in, beaming, Darling, where are you? Your little rabbits back! Jump into my arms! I sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea and nibbling a slice of cake, utterly unmoved.
Its too late, I thought, feeling the shift solidify.
He complained about endless assignments and endless trips with no break. I replied curtly, I dont care. He fell silent, stunned by my icy tone. I gulped tea from a saucer, ate the cake straight from the box with a spoon, a habit he could not fathom.
Then, without a flicker of warmth, I announced, Were getting a divorce. I stared at him, trying to make my gaze as provocative as possible, and added, Got it? Divorcejust because. No reason. Thats all.
He stared, shocked, his anger rising at my refusal to explain. He tried to assert himself, only to be met with a soft, Bugger off. I rose, moved to another room, and declared I would no longer eat cake or give anyone any explanations.
The relationship had collapsed into pure coldness. Edward tried to keep his composure, but irritation festered inside him.
Whats happening? he muttered, eyeing the chewed cake. Did she find out about Vera Patel? If so, thered be a scene, but there isnt. So it must be something else
He attempted a conversation, Emily, lets talk this through calmly.
Leave me be, Im resting, I replied.
He felt mocked, You dont even know what a divorce is? Divorce! Get it?
Just then the doorbell rang. My daughters, Isla and Nia, arrived. Edward greeted them cheerfully, only to be met with the same frosty silence Id given him. The girls, clearly siding with their mother, launched into the same blunt accusations.
Mum wants a divorce and wont give reasons.
Why bother looking for reasons when women part ways like this nowadays?
You need to leave. This flat is now Mums, and youd be better off staying with Gran in the village.
Edward tried to make sense of the onslaught, but the family was united: the divorce was a done deal, no room left for former affection.
Vera Patel turned out to be the catalyst. My icy retaliation was a response to his betrayal. My daughters backed me, echoing my stance. Edward was left alone, stripped of everything.
In the end I told him to pack his things and go, stressing that the decision was final and uncompromising. He never grasped the exact moment that sealed his fate.
What remains is a bitter ache, a mutual misunderstanding, but also a deliberately chosen cold indifference meant to hurt the cheat without resorting to shouting matches. Sometimes the most painful punishment is silent estrangement, a divorce without explanations, when words have lost their meaning and all hope drains from the relationship.
Emily.
