I still recall the day my former husband turned up at my door, hoping for forgiveness, just after I learned of my promotion.
Congratulations, Eleanor Whitmore! Youre now the regional director, Charlotte Hargreaves, head of HR and an old friend, declared, setting a hefty folder of papers on the polished oak desk. She sank into the visitors chair with a grin that could have lit the whole office. Honestly, Im thrilled they chose you instead of that brasstack from London.
Eleanor brushed a hand over the smooth surface of the desk and felt a strange sensation. For fifteen years she had toiled for the firm, starting as a clerk, fielding irate clients, staying late to finish reports, and fixing other peoples mistakes. Now she had a private office with a panoramic view over the city, a company car, and a salary that once seemed a fantasy.
Thank you, Charlotte. Without your support when I wanted to quit three years ago, none of this would have happened, Eleanor said.
Dont mention it, Charlotte waved it off. You never would have left. Youve got iron in your spine. Remember how you were back thendivorce, depression, Martins endless whining. You clenched your teeth and kept working. This is your reward for endurance. By the way, youll never guess who I saw yesterday in the supermarket.
The name of Eleanors exhusband still sent a cold shiver down her spine, even though three quiet years had passed since theyd split. He had spent a decade eroding her selfesteem.
Who? she asked, wary.
Martin himself. And, I must say, he doesnt look very regal. Remember how he used to parade around, calling himself a creative soul in search? Well, his search has landed him in the discountgoods department, wearing that battered jacket he bought for you. Hes been buying the cheapest frozen dumplings and bargain beer.
Maybe hes just having a rough patch, Eleanor replied, a flicker of spiteful satisfaction stirring inside her.
Hes having a rough patch because he thinks his new fling will support him the way you once did, Charlotte snorted. Enough gloomshall we celebrate tonight?
Definitely, but lets do it tomorrow. Tonight I just want a quiet bath and to realise Im now the big boss.
Eleanor craved peace. That evening she parked her brandnew SUV in the driveway of the upscale block where shed bought a flat a year earlier on a mortgage that was nearly paid off. The concierge gave a polite nod as she entered.
She rode the lift to her floor, looking forward to an evening with a book, when the doors opened onto a stranger at her doorstep. A man stood there, shifting his weight, clutching a ridiculous bouquet of three halfwilting roses wrapped in cellophane.
Her heart missed a beat. It was Martin.
Time had taken its toll on him. Dark circles framed his eyes, his hair thinned, and the swagger he once wore was gone. When he saw Eleanor, a smile spread across his faceonce hypnotic, now a cloying, pitiful grin.
Elli, love! I thought Id surprise you. I rang the intercom, no one answered, the neighbour stepped out, so I slipped in. I was waiting, he stammered.
Eleanor stepped toward the door, keys still in her hand. She wanted to turn and flee, but curiosity and the newfound confidence shed earned held her in place.
Martin, what are you doing here after three years? If I recall, when we divorced you asked me to disappear from your life forever, lest my whining spoil your karma.
Martin chuckled nervously, fiddling with the wilted roses.
Ah, the past is the past I was emotional then, didnt know what I was doing. Midlife crisis, you know. You look radiant, love! That suitexpensive, I assume? It suits you.
Lets get to the point, Eleanor said. Why are you here?
Maybe youll let me in? Its rude to talk on the stairwell. Were not strangers; we shared ten years, after all.
For a heartbeat she hesitated. Letting him into her meticulously renovated sanctuary felt wrong, yet leaving him outside to linger would be foolish.
Come in, but not for long. I have plans.
He stepped inside, eyes scanning the lightfilled rooms, the designer furniture, the costly paintings. He slipped off his shoes, the soles of his boots still dirty, and Eleanor frowned at the smudge on the plush carpet.
This placemagnificent, he murmured. Do you live here alone?
Alone, she replied.
I heard you went up the hillbecame a director? Must be a lofty salary, Im guessing, he said, plopping himself at the kitchen table, his hands resting on the artificialstone surface.
Where did you get that gossip? Are you spying on me? Eleanor asked.
The citys small; news travels fast. Mutual friends told me youre now a highflying bird. Im proud of you, honestly. Remember when I told you you had potential?
Eleanors glass of water nearly slipped from her hand.
You called me a grey mouse, said my career would be nothing but shuffling papers, and that I should be grateful for having someone as talented as you around. You called my work office slavery.
I was motivating you! By the opposite, to make you prove me wrong, Martin blurted. See? It worked. I have a share in your success.
He stared at her, expecting a grateful outburst. Eleanor saw a man she no longer recogniseda onceproud lover reduced to a pitiful supplicant, trying to latch onto her triumph.
Tea? she asked dryly.
Yes, and something to eat. Im starving.
What do you do now? she prompted.
Temporary taxi driver, actually. My crypto startup stalledpartners bailed. Im looking for a new venture. And Emilymy last partnercouldnt stand my financial needs. She wants money, but wheres the heart? You, Eleanor, always understood, always waited.
He reached across the table, attempting to lay his hand over hers. She pulled back sharply.
I didnt wait, Martin. I worked. While you lounged, I took extra jobs, studied English at night, endured your mockery. When I got my first promotion, you threw a tantrum about not spending enough time with you. Then you packed your things and ran to Emily because she was light and inspiring.
I was wrong, Elli! Martin slammed his fist on the table, then looked nervous. I was foolish, blinded by youth and passion. All that is now just husk. Ive realised true love is what we hadsoulmates. Ive thought of you for three years.
Really? Eleanor raised an eyebrow. Even when you stole our car and took my laptop with work files?
Dont bring that up. I needed money to start over Elli, lets start anew. Look at usperfect pair. Youre successful, strong. Ill be the man who supports you, do the chores, be proud of you. Ill carry you in my arms.
She saw not a repentant husband but a shark smelling bloodactually, the scent of money. He inspected the flat, admired the renovation, noted the sleek car, and understood the allure of a quiet harbour where he could eat, sleep and do nothing.
You want to return? To me? he asked.
To us! he corrected, puffing his chest. I left a few things in the carjust the essentials. If you forgive me, I could stay. No need to drag this out; were adults. Loneliness is terrible, Elli. A woman alone is vulnerable. She needs a man to fix a shelf, mend a tap.
Eleanor laughed, a genuine, ringing sound.
My phone has an app called Handyman on Call. Need a shelf fixed? A trained chap appears, does the job in twenty minutes, cleans up, and it costs about ten pounds. No need to feed him for years, wash his socks, or listen to his selfproclaimed genius.
Martins face fell.
Youve become cynical. Moneys ruined you. I offer a family, warmth, and you talk about a handyman.
Im realistic. Youre not offering a family, Martin. Youre seeking a sponsor. Emily dumped you, you have no place to live, no cash. Then you discover your former grey mouse is now a director. Bingo! You think you can waltz back, sprinkle compliments, hand over wilted roses, and settle back onto my neck.
Its not true! he shouted, eyes darting. I love you!
At that moment his pocket phone rang, its shrill tone cutting through the tension. He glanced at the screen, grimaced, and silenced it.
Whos that? Eleanor asked.
Just work, he muttered.
The phone rang again.
Answer it, she said. Maybe its urgent.
Reluctantly, he hit the speaker. A voice boomed through the flat.
Martin! Its MotherBeatrice Hawthorne! Are you with her? Did she agree?
He turned a deep shade of crimson, fidgeting with the handset.
Mum, Im busy, Ill call back
Dont call back! Tell her about the loan! Say the collectors are pounding, that you have no place to stay. She must help her exsoninlaw! Remind her Im in a convalescent home, beg for her mercy. Use the sob storywomen love that!
Martin finally hung up, the silence in the kitchen hanging heavy. He looked at Eleanor with the sheepish expression of a schoolboy caught smoking behind the gym.
Eleanor rose slowly.
So you want to play on her pity, she said calmly. Three years ago, when you left, I asked you to at least leave the washing machine. Id just paid for your dental work and had not a penny left. You said, Earn it. I owe you nothing. Remember?
I remember, he muttered. But now Im rich!
The situation hasnt changed. I owe you nothing. Your debts are yoursyour light and inspiration cost you dearly. Your housing problems are the result of your own choices.
So youre sending me out onto the street? he asked, desperation thinly veiled.
You have a car. Take it to your mother. Shes waiting, judging by that call.
Dont be a witch, Eleanor! Its inhumane! Were family! Give me a chance! Ill work! I could be a driver for your firm, anything! A director needs a trusted man, doesnt she?
Trust? You? Eleanor shook her head. You betrayed me when I needed you most. Now you try to cheat me when Im well off. Trust is a word you no longer own.
She moved to the hallway and opened the front door.
Leave, Martin. Take your wilted flowers and go. Ill tell the concierge not to let you back in.
Martin stumbled into the corridor, breathing heavily, a mix of anger and despair in his eyes.
Youll regret this! Money wont bring you happiness! Youll die alone in your golden cage! Who needs you, old careerchasing spinster? I was the only one who mattered to you, and now
Enough! Eleanor snapped, her voice steel. Go!
He rushed out, nearly tripping on the landing. Eleanor slammed the door, turned the lock twice, and leaned against it, eyes closed. She expected tears, a wave of sorrow, but instead a light, exhilarating joy rose within her.
She had stood her ground. She had not let guilt or ghosts of the past poison her present.
Returning to the kitchen, she found the halfdrunk tea and the three wilted roses still on the table. With a contemptuous flick of her fingers she tossed the flowers into the bin, shoved the cup into the dishwasher, and wiped the surface with a disinfectant wipe as if erasing the memory of his visit.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Charlotte:
Alright, boss ladybubble bath or a glass of champagne?
Eleanor smiled and typed back:
Champagne. And the most expensive sushi. Im not just celebrating a promotion; Im finally divorcing the old me in my mind.
Half an hour later she was perched on her plush sofa, gazing at the city lights below, marveling at how life works. Sometimes you need someone from the past to try dragging you back into the mire before you realise how high you truly fly.
The next morning, stepping into her new office, Eleanor felt a different woman. She greeted the secretary politely, led the first briefing, handed out directives. At one point Lucy, the receptionist, peeked in, eyes wide.
Eleanor Whitmore, theres a man shouting hes your husband, says he has an urgent matter. Security is not letting him in, hes causing a scene.
Eleanor didnt look away from her screen.
I dont have a husband, Lucy. Have security escort him out. If he resists, call the police.
Lucy nodded and slipped away.
A few minutes later muffled shouts drifted from the hallway, then silence. Eleanor walked to the window. From the tenthfloor height the people below looked like ants. She saw a familiar figure in a threadbare jacket being led past the buildings gates by two guards. He waved, tried to argue, but the doors closed.
She turned from the window and returned to her work. There were too many tasks, too many plans, too much of a fascinating life to waste even a minute on spectres of the past. She had chosen herself, and that decision proved the wisest shed ever made in her fortyodd years.
