Sorry I didnt live up to your expectations!
It unfolded like a joke from a sitcom or a tearjerker drama. One summer evening Mark was hunched over his laptop in the living room, while Emily Turner was dusting and putting things away. The car alarm wailed outside, and Mark bolted onto the front lawn thank goodness for a warm night. At the same time Emily brushed a stray crumb off the coffee table, nudged the mouse and the dead screen sprang back to life.
Emily had never thought it proper to snoop through Marks phone, dig around his pockets or peek over his shoulder while he worked she considered it uncouth. Yet the glance at the monitor was accidental.
She caught a glimpse of a chat on some dating site. The word darling leapt out at her. She turned away, cheeks flushing, wondering whether the phrase might simply be Darling, my wife said or even a cheeky my favourite sausage! Still, curiosity pushed her back to the screen.
Darling, wrote Mark, unabashedly using his own photograph on the site, of course well meet tomorrow as we planned. I keep replaying our last date in my head. Youre absolutely on fire!
And youre a beast, my little bear, replied a slender, freckled girl. My whole body still aches.
Later, as Mark hurried out, the chat turned nervous: Bear, hey! You there? Im bored! Where are you?
Emily, clutching a rag, sank onto the sofa. It all made sense now. Mark had warned that the next day a mandatory work function would take place one they could not decline. Emily had spent the afternoon pressing her trousers, aligning the seams, matching a tie to a suit and ironing Marks shirts carefully so no stray crease marred the sleeves. She finally understood which event her husband was prepping for.
When Mark finally returned, he ranted about teenage hooligans who had thumped a ball into his car. He shouted, swore and flailed his arms, while Emily listened and offered the occasional yeah, right, but her thoughts and feelings seemed miles away.
Fortunately, Mark was not in a romantic mood that night, and the couple went to bed. Ill think about it tomorrow, Emily muttered, echoing a wellknown heroine, yet she tossed and turned all night, unable to drift off.
At dawn Mark left for the office, and Emily set about the housework. Her mother was due to bring little Charlie, their twoandahalfyearold, who had been staying with his grandmother at the cottage for a week. Emily scrubbed floors, polished the bathroom tiles and wiped down the kitchen, while a relentless refrain of What now? looped in her head.
Memories of Marks words and deeds kept surfacing, each new detail reshaping the familiar world that now lay in ruins. She knew one thing with absolute certainty: she could never forgive Mark. Not even if he begged, claimed it was a mistake, or swore it would never happen again. Time might dull the sharp sting, but the betrayal itself would never vanish.
At the same time, Emily realised that Charlie was still too young for nursery; the nearest place wouldnt open until autumn, meaning she couldnt return to work either. She faced the prospect of leaning on ageing parents, fighting a bitter battle for child support, or launching a painful divorce while still reeling from shock. Could she muster the strength? Would she be swayed by Marks pleas to think, wait, understand and forgive only to regret it later? No the divorce was nonnegotiable, just not today.
So Emily stayed put, continuing to iron Marks shirts, choose his ties and, in the rare moments when he remembered her as a person rather than a housekeeper, she laughed at his jokes. The only thing she could not shake was a deep sense of revulsion. She dodged chores with flimsy excuses, and Mark seemed to sigh with relief each time. Lately, he had even blossomed smiling, humming to himself, bringing her flowers for no reason, while she pretended to believe his stories about business trips, meetings and courses.
When a nursery place finally opened in October, Emily handed in her resignation and filed for divorce on the spot. Saying Mark was stunned would be an understatement; he had been convinced she knew nothing of his exploits. Upon learning the truth, he erupted, accusing her of greed.
Youre a golddigging whore! Low and filthy! No wonder people call you domestic prostitutes! he shouted. You sat on my neck, waited for the child to grow, and now that Ive lifted him, goodbye, love! I thought my wife was different, but youre just like every other woman!
Their mutual friends rallied behind Mark, shunning Emily as a calculating harpy, unfit for ordinary folk. Even her own mother looked at her with reproach: How could you? If you wanted a divorce, you should have done it straight away. Instead you lingered, plotted, kept a stone hidden in your heart. I never imagined my daughter could be so petty and scheming.
Sorry I didnt meet your expectations, Emily replied to everyone, but she never altered her decision.
In the end, Emily learned that meeting others expectations is a burden she never needed to bear. True peace comes from honoring ones own values, even when the path is steep and lonely. The lesson is simple: you cannot control how others act, but you can choose how you respond, and in that choice lies the freedom to live with integrity.
