Victor set a condition, and I chose divorce.
Hold on! I havent finished yet! Where are you off to? Am I talking to a wall? Victors voice boomed through the flat, ricocheting off the lofty ceilings of the Victorian block.
Natalie froze in the kitchen doorway, clutching a towel so tightly her fingers went white. She turned slowly. Normally her eyes were calm and bright, now they were clouded with a deep, weary fatigue.
Victor, Im exhausted. Weve been at this for three hours. I have a night shift at the hospital tomorrow, I need to sleep, she said.
Night shift, huh? Victor flailed his arms dramatically, pacing the kitchen and almost grazing the table with his hip. Exactly! Thats what Im talking about. Youre stuck on your patients, IV drips, and that everwhining old man. And at home? Chaos? Husband not fed, shirts not ironed?
Dinners on the stove, shirts are hanging in the wardrobe, Natalie replied, quietly but firmly. I manage.
You call that manage? Victor snapped, pointing at the stove. Storebought meatballs? Readymeals? I earn enough that my wife doesnt have to feed me with a substitute. I want homecooked food, a house that smells of pies, not the antiseptic scent that follows you around the ward!
Natalie instinctively sniffed the cuff of her housecoat. It reeked of fabric softener. Lately Victor seemed to think the whole world smelled like a hospital. Ever since hed been promoted to deputy director of a major construction firm, his complaints had multiplied exponentially.
Victor, Im a senior nurse in cardiology. Thats my profession, my life. People need me there, she said.
People? And Im not needed? The family isnt needed? He closed the distance, his bulky frame looming over her, reeking of expensive cologne and a hint of whisky. Bottom line, Nat. Im embarrassed. All my colleagues have wives who look polished, hit the gym, do charity work. Mine is a nurse. Do you know the look I got from Mr. Hargreaves when he heard youre pulling night shifts?
Im not pulling night shifts, Im running the ward she began.
Never mind! he cut her off, slapping the air with his palm. Youre support staff. Im status. Were incompatible.
Victor paused, savoring the moment as if he were about to hand down a verdict.
Im giving you an ultimatum. Either you hand in a resignation tomorrow, stay home, tend to yourself, become my mums caretakershes constantly complaining about lonelinessand keep me comfortable or were done. Choose: your modest job or a wellprovided family life. I give you until Friday.
He turned and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door so hard the mugs in the drying rack clanged.
Natalie stood in the centre of the kitchen, her head thudding. Twenty years of marriage. Theyd started in a cramped dorm room. Shed been a student nurse, he a polytechnic student. Shed taken night jobs washing floors so he could write his dissertation without a break. She remembered sharing a single sausage, thinking it was romantic.
When did the man she loved morph into this arrogant stranger for whom she was just a functional element in his pictureperfect success?
She mechanically hung the towel, switched off the light and drifted to the bedroom. Victor was already snoring on the kingsize bed. She curled up at the edge, curling into a ball as shed done for the past six months, trying not to touch him. Sleep eluded her. The phrase either family or work looped in her mind.
At dawn she rose before him, brewed coffee, made him fish sandwiches on wholegrain breadno butter, just as he liked. She didnt even take a bite.
The hospital was its usual whirlwind: a heavycase heart attack, a healthboard inspection, endless reports. Natalie spun like a hamster on a wheel, but amid the smell of disinfectant and the beeping monitors, she felt alive. Nurse Natalie, look at the ECG, a doctor would call. Thank you, Natalie, the patients father is improving. Here she was a professional, a person.
During lunch her longtime friend and colleague, Lucy, popped into the oncall room.
Nat, why so pale? Blood pressure again? Or is your magnate up to his tricks? Lucy teased, stirring her tea.
Tricks, Lucy. Hes given me an ultimatumquit, stay home, make borscht, or we divorce, Natalie replied, a bitter smile playing on her lips.
Lucy nearly choked on her biscuit. Youre kidding! He thinks youre the best cardiology nurse around! He cant have you stuck in four walls, hed go off his rocker! Hes embarrassed to have a nurse for a wife?
Exactly. He says its not prestigious to have a nurse wife, Natalie sighed, staring out at the grey autumn rain washing the pavement.
Scary, isnt it? Im thirtynine, his flat is in his name, I only have my salary and Mum back in the country. Where would I go?
Back to Mum if shell have me, or a modest flat. My pay would cover it, but the humiliation Hell eat me alive if I stay, Lucy warned. Hell make you beg for socks. Weve seen that sort of lifeowner before.
That evening Natalie trudged home like she was heading to the gallows. Victor was already planted on the sofa, eyes glued to the telly, BBC news flickering.
So? he asked without turning. Thought about it? Friday is in two days.
Victor, lets talk calmly. I wont quit, but I could go parttime she began.
He switched the TV off, flinging the remote onto the couch. No halfmeasures! I need a wife who greets me with a smile and a threecourse dinner, not a exhausted workhorse. And my mum needs care; Ill move her into the spare room, your sewing machine and books out, and youll look after her. You have the skills, use them for the family, not strangers.
A cold splash of water hit her. Victors mother, Antonia, was a domineering, sharptongued woman who had never liked Natalie, deeming her a country bumpkin unworthy of her brilliant son. Living under the same roof as a nannylike figure was the nightmare Victor sold as a comfortable life.
You want me to be a freeofcharge caregiver for your mother? Natalie asked quietly.
Free? Ill give you a household allowance, an extra card for groceries, cosmeticseverything. Youll live in a posh flat, buttered like a croissant. Anyone else in your shoes would be over the moon! Victor crowed.
Im not anyones cliché, Victor. Im a person.
Dont start that philosophy now! He grimaced. By Friday evening I expect your employment record on this table. Otherwise you pack your things Saturday.
Wednesday and Thursday blurred. Natalie went to work, smiled at patients, but an empty echo rang inside her. She felt cornered.
That Thursday Victor brought two of his business partners and their impeccably groomed wives. He gave Natalie a headsup: Set the table, order something fancy, look presentable, and for heavens sake, keep your needles to yourself.
The evening turned into a torture session. The wives prattled about Maldives holidays, new spa retreats, and domestic staff woes.
So, Natalie, what do you do? one asked, lazily spearing a rocketleaf salad with shrimp.
Natalie opened her mouth, but Victor beat her to it. Our dear Nat is the hearthkeeper, interiordesign enthusiast. Shes prepping a room for my mum, turning it into a cosy haven.
He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing so hard she wanted to scream. He was lyingplain and effortless.
How admirable! the guest cooed. Its rare to see women devoted to family these days. Men need a solid backstop.
Victor beamed, pouring wine. A backstop, my fortress.
Natalie stared at the floor, feeling herself shrink to a speck on his expensive jacket, something he could brush away with a flick.
When the guests left, Victor was pleased. See? All went well. You didnt ruin anything with your silence. Brilliant. Remember, Friday is tomorrow. Youve got no real choice. Who needs a fortysomething woman without a home?
He gave her a patronising pat on the backside and trudged to the shower, humming some tune.
Natalie stayed to wash the glasses, and suddenly a thought crystallised. No choice. Hed bought her like a piece of property, treating her as a convenient slipper at the hall.
She dried her hands, looked at her reflection in the dark windowtired eyes, a weary smile. Was this all she had left? To spend her life as a petulant wife and a demanding motherinlaw?
She remembered rescuing a young man whose heart had stopped in the emergency ward a week earlier. Shed fired the defibrillator, shouted Charge! and later watched his mother weep and kiss her hands. Could she trade that for ironing shirts and listening to Antonias lectures?
Friday morning, Victor still slept. Natalie didnt make coffee. She quietly retrieved an old suitcase from the cupboardthe same one theyd taken on their first holiday to a seaside town years ago.
She packed only essentials: a few clothes, underwear, favourite books, her sewing machine, and documents. No fur coat hed given her, no jewellery.
Victor stirred, scratched his belly and froze in the doorway. Whats this performance? Heading to the country for fresh air? Or moving Mum in advance? Nice initiative.
Natalie zipped the suitcase, straightened, and met his gaze with a calm she hadnt felt in ages.
Im leaving, Victor.
He laughed, a fullbellowing chuckle. Where to? Into a fridge box? Nat, stop the circus. Put the suitcase away and make breakfast. Im late. And dont forget the resignation lettertodays the last day.
Ive already written it, she said.
Victors grin faded. Show me.
I filed for divorce on the NHS portal half an hour ago. I also requested a weeks leave to sort the move. Im not quitting my job.
His face flushed crimson. Youre joking? Divorce? Youll end up with nothing! Naked, barefoot, on the streets! Ill take the car! The flat is mine! Youll die on the curb!
The car isnt needed; Im fine on the tube. The flat is yours, enjoy it. As for die on the curb Im a nurse, Victor. I survive. Ive got a room with a kind old lady, not far from the hospital. Ill manage.
She grabbed the suitcase handle.
You wont get out of this flat! he roared, stepping forward. Ill lock you in! Youre my wife; you must obey!
Dont touch me, Natalie whispered. If you lay a hand on me, Ill press charges. All the doctors at my hospital are friends. Do you really want a scandal? Deputy director assaults wife? How would Mr. Hargreaves react?
Victor froze. The mention of his reputation snapped him like a cold shower. He was a coward, she knew; only a bully to the weak.
Leave, he spat, saliva flying. Leave! But try to crawl back on your kneesI wont let you! Youll be stuck at the door with my mumno entry! You swapped a nice life for ducks!
I chose myself, Natalie replied.
She slipped past him, shoulders brushing his, slipped into the hallway, slipped on a coat, and stepped out onto the landing where the smell of fried chips and dampness greeted herfreedom in a scent.
Leave the keys! he shouted after her.
She placed the bunch of keys gently on the side table.
Goodbye, Victor. Theres soup in the fridge for two days. After that, good luck. Or call your mum.
She slammed the door, cutting off his shouts, pressed the lift button. As the cabin descended, her phone buzzed: a bank alertYour card has been blocked by the account holder.
Natalie smiled. Shed expected it. In her bag lay her salary card with six months savings; shed stopped splurging on groceries, knowing this day would come. The cash wasnt huge, but enough for a deposit and food.
Rain drummed on the streets, now feeling cleansing. She inhaled fully. Ahead lay uncertainty: a modest room with the kindly old lady, long shifts, occasional loneliness. No more fear, no more need to please, no more shrinking.
A week later Victor showed up at the hospital, drunk and dishevelled. Security wouldnt let him in, and he caused a scene in the reception, demanding that idiot be called.
Natalie, in her white coat, approached him calmly. What do you want? she asked, barely recognizing the man.
Nat, come on, lets sort this. Mums coming, were short of shirts, theres nothing to eat. Come back. Ill forgive you. I was heated. Ill even let you work parttime.
A crowd of orderlies and patients gathered, watching the drama.
Victor, leave, Natalie said. Ive filed for divorce. Itll be final next month, no kids, no joint assets.
Youll regret it! he shouted, desperate. Youre nothing without me! Zero!
Security! Natalie shouted. Remove this man, hes breaching public order.
Strong guards hauled Victor out, his curses fading behind the doors.
Did he actually show up? Lucy asked later, amused.
He did, Natalie replied.
Regret anything? Lucy probed.
Natalie glanced at the patients ECG on the tablesteady, confident rhythm. Life went on.
You know, Lucy, she said, smiling, I only regret not doing this five years ago. Now Im okay. Im breathing.
That evening she returned to her tiny rented room. It was clean, quiet, scented with dried herbs. The landlady, a sweet old lady named Anne, baked cabbage pasties.
Come on, Natalie, have some tea, Anne invited.
Natalie sat at the simple table, tore into a hot pasty. It tasted better than any oyster or foie gras Victor ever offered. It held no bitterness of humiliation. She was home, at last, and tomorrow her beloved job awaitedsaving lives, not feeding egos.
The end.
