The harsh split: Emily and James
Its a cruel shock to realise that love can melt away into a cold, wordless divorce, shattering every illusion of safety in the home.
How was the trip? Emily asked when James finally strolled back three weeks later.
It was fine, James replied calmly. Im knackered, like a dog. The business trips have worn me out.
Cant you just quit? Emily said, staring into the distance.
Thats the trouble, James sighed. Besides you, no ones waiting for me, and I dont want to let my colleagues down.
You understand, love, Emily murmured gently.
If not everything, then a lot, she added.
Emily already knew James hadnt been on a genuine business trip. She was certain where he had spent the time and with whom. Why did she keep her tone so placid? There were good reasons.
The next morning, after he left again, she found his passport tucked under the sofa. How could he travel without a passport? she wondered. She called him.
Are you alright? she asked.
Everythings great, James said.
Where are you now?
On the train, he assured her.
After a few more words, Emily hung up and thought: *If he has no passport, either hes using another one or hes lying. So there was no business trip. He must be with another woman, and hell go to work tomorrow as if nothing happened. Ill see for myself.*
At eight to ten in the morning Emily stood at the gate of Jamess office on the Thames Wharf development. She watched him walk in. *No other woman?* she thought. *Stay sharp. I need to find out where he goes after work and confront her.* When the workday ended, she trailed him.
The truth emerged faster than she expected. A chatty neighbour, Vera Collins, 35, unmarried and a recent flatowner, spilled the beans: shed met James six months ago, and theyd been seeing each other ever since. Emilys mind swirled with questions, but an inner voice warned her to be cautious.
Emily! the voice said suddenly. Now isnt the time for a scene.
Why not? she snapped.
Because youre shaking, breathing fast, and full of hate. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? How can you start a conversation looking like that?
Remember, if you start a fight, both of them will watch you with pity, then laugh and be glad youre out of their way. Do you want that?
The inner voice gave Emily a cold clarity. *Ill end this without explanations quietly, indifferently, so it hurts James.* A surge of resolve filled her.
She rehearsed her plan:
Were getting divorced, thats all.
Hell press for reasons.
Ill answer, There are none.
Its simply because I decided so.
Then Ill keep my distance, smile coldly, and be blunt.
The voice approved, adding: *Do it calmly, boldly, and silently it will strike at his pride hardest.*
Bolstered, Emily pretended to believe Jamess stories about work for a few days, letting him think their old love still lingered.
When he returned home one evening, he shouted cheerfully, Darling, where are you? Your bunnys back! Come on! Emily, sipping tea at the kitchen table, stared at the halfeaten cake. *Too late,* she thought, feeling the shift.
James complained about endless projects and nonstop travel. Emilys reply was flat: I dont care. He fell silent, stunned by her coldness. She gulped tea from a saucer, ate the cake straight from the box with a spoon, an odd habit that baffled him.
Then, with the steady tone of someone delivering a verdict, she said, Were divorcing. She fixed him with a hard stare and added, Got it? Divorce no reason, just that.
James was taken aback, his anger flaring at her refusal to explain. He tried to assert himself, only to hear a quiet, Go to hell. Emily stood, walked to another room, and declared she would no longer eat the cake or give anyone explanations.
The atmosphere grew icy. James tried to keep his composure, but irritation gnawed at him. Whats happening? he wondered, eyeing the chewed cake. Did she find out about Vera? Then there would be a scene, but there isnt. So something else is going on
He attempted a calm discussion. Emily, lets talk.
Leave me be, Im resting, she snapped.
To Jamess dismay, the front door rang. His daughters, Ivy and Nora, stepped in. James greeted them warmly, only to be met with the same cold indifference Emily displayed. The sisters, siding with their mother, spoke bluntly:
Mum wants a divorce, she wont give reasons.
Why dig for reasons when women now end things like this?
You should move out. This flat belongs to Mum now; youd be better off staying with Grandma in the village.
James tried to make sense of the onslaught, but the family was united: the divorce was a fact, and there was no room left for former affection.
Vera Collins was the catalyst. Emilys icy response was retaliation for betrayal. The daughters backed their mother, echoing her stance. James was left alone, stripped of everything he knew.
In the end Emily told James to pack his things and leave, stressing that her decision was final and uncompromising. He never discovered the precise moment when the line was crossed.
The episode was soaked in bitterness and mutual misunderstanding, but Emily chose cold indifference and silent boycott as the most painful weapon against a betrayer, avoiding loud fights and scandal.
The lesson emerged clear as day: sometimes the deepest wound is not a shouted argument, but the quiet, steady withdrawal of love, proving that holding onto dignity and selfrespect can be more powerful than any bitter exchange.
