“When Was the Last Time You Truly Looked at Yourself in the Mirror?” he asked. His Wife’s Surprising Response Changed Everything Alex sipped his morning coffee, stealing glances at Marina. Her hair was tied back with a child’s hairband, decorated with cartoon kittens. Next door, Ksenia always seemed vibrant and fresh, her expensive perfume lingering in the lift. “You know,” Alex put his phone down, “sometimes I feel like we live together… well, more like neighbours.” Marina paused, cleaning rag frozen in her hand. “What do you mean?” “Oh, nothing. Just… when did you last really look at yourself in the mirror?” She looked at him closely. Alex realised things weren’t going as he expected. “When was the last time you looked at me?” Marina replied softly. An awkward pause hung between them. “Marina, don’t make this a drama. I just mean—a woman should always look amazing. It’s basic! Look at Ksenia, and she’s your age.” “Ah,” Marina said. “Ksenia.” Her tone made Alex uneasy, as if something important had suddenly dawned on her. “Alex,” she said after a moment, “let’s do this. I’ll move in with Mum for a bit. Think about what you said.” “Fine. We’ll live separately, think things through. But I’m not throwing you out!” “You know,” Marina hung the rag carefully on a hook, “maybe I really do need to look in the mirror.” She went to pack her suitcase. Alex sat in the kitchen, thinking: “This is what I wanted.” But somehow, it didn’t feel satisfying—more empty than anything. For three days, Alex lived in a kind of holiday: coffee in the morning, no rush, evenings doing what he liked. No melodramatic TV shows. Freedom, right? Real, man’s freedom. One evening, Alex bumped into Ksenia by the block entrance. She carried bags from Waitrose, tottering in heels and a perfect dress. “Alex!” she smiled. “How are you? Haven’t seen Marina lately.” “She’s at her mum’s. Taking a break,” he lied easily. “Ah.” Ksenia nodded knowingly. “Women need a respite now and then. From housework, from routine.” She spoke as if she’d never set foot in household drudgery herself, as if dinner just materialised. “Ksenia, maybe we could grab coffee sometime? Just as neighbours.” “That’d be lovely,” she smiled. “Tomorrow night?” Alex spent the night planning. Which shirt? Jeans or chinos? Don’t overdo the aftershave. In the morning the phone rang. “Alex?” Came an unfamiliar voice. “It’s Ludmila, Marina’s mum.” His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, I’m listening.” “Marina asked me to say she’ll pick up her things on Saturday when you’re out. She’ll leave the keys with the concierge.” “Wait, she’s picking up her things?” “What did you expect?” There was steel in the mother-in-law’s voice. “My daughter isn’t going to spend her life waiting for you to decide if you need her.” “I didn’t say anything like that—” “You said quite enough. Goodbye, Alex.” She hung up. Alex sat at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. What the hell? He wasn’t getting divorced! He’d just asked for a break—to think. They’d decided everything without him. Coffee with Ksenia felt strange. She was pleasant, chatted about her banking job, laughed at his jokes. But when he tried to take her hand, she gently pulled away. “Alex, understand—I can’t. You’re married.” “But we’re… well, living apart now.” “For now. What about tomorrow?” Ksenia looked at him, searching. Alex walked Ksenia home and went back to his quiet, bachelor-smelling flat. Saturday. Alex deliberately left, to avoid drama or tears. Let her take her things in peace. By three o’clock he was jittery with curiosity. What did she take? Everything? Just essentials? And how did she look? At four he couldn’t stand it and went home. Outside was a car with local plates. At the wheel, a man around forty, good-looking, in a nice jacket, helping someone load boxes. Alex sat on a bench and waited. Ten minutes later, out stepped a woman in a blue dress. Her dark hair was in a beautiful clip—no childish hairbands. Her makeup highlighted her eyes. Alex stared in disbelief. It was Marina. But different. She carried the last bag. The man instantly helped her, gently seating her in the car—handling her like crystal. Alex couldn’t help himself. He walked up to the car. “Marina!” She turned. Her face was calm and beautiful. Not tired as he remembered. “Hello, Alex.” “Is that… you?” The man at the wheel tensed, but Marina softly assured him it was fine. “Yes,” she answered simply. “You just haven’t really looked at me in a long time.” “Marina, wait. Can we talk?” “About what?” No anger in her voice, just surprise. “You said a woman should look amazing. So I listened.” “But that’s not what I meant!” Alex’s heart was pounding. “What did you want, Alex?” Marina tilted her head. “For me to become beautiful, just for you? Interesting, but only at home? To love myself, but not so much that I’d leave a husband who couldn’t see me?” He listened, and with every word, something inside him shifted. “You know,” Marina said gently, “I realised I’d stopped caring for myself. But not because I was lazy—because I’d got used to being invisible in my own house, my own life.” “Marina, I didn’t mean—” “You did. You wanted an invisible wife—who does everything, but doesn’t get in your way. And when you’re bored, you trade up for a brighter model.” The man in the car said something quietly. Marina nodded. “We have to go, Alex. Vladimir’s waiting.” “Vladimir?” Alex’s mouth went dry. “Who’s that?” “A man who sees me.” Marina answered. “We met at the gym—Mum’s flat is near a fitness centre. Imagine, at forty-two I went to my first ever workout class.” “Marina, don’t. Let’s try again. I get it now—I was an idiot.” “Alex,” she looked at him carefully, “do you remember the last time you said I was beautiful?” He fell silent. He couldn’t remember. “The last time you asked how I was?” And Alex realised—he’d lost. Not to Vladimir, nor circumstances. To himself. Vladimir started the engine. “Alex, I’m not angry. Really. Thanks to you, I understood something important: if I can’t see myself, no one else will.” The car drove away. Alex sat on the bench and watched his life leave—not just his wife, but the last fifteen years he’d considered routine, and now understood was happiness. He just hadn’t realised it before. Six months later, Alex bumped into Marina at the shopping centre—by chance. She was picking out coffee beans, reading labels carefully. Next to her, a young woman—about twenty. “Let’s get this one,” she said. “Dad says arabica’s better than robusta.” “Marina?” Alex approached. She turned and smiled easily. “Hello, Alex. Meet Nastya, Vladimir’s daughter. Nastya, this is Alex, my ex-husband.” Nastya nodded politely—pretty, probably a uni student. She looked at Alex curiously, with no hostility. “How are you?” he asked. “Good. And you?” “Not bad.” An awkward pause. What do you say to an ex-wife who’s changed so much? They stood amidst the coffee shelves, and Alex looked at her—tanned, new haircut, light blouse. Happy—genuinely happy. “And you?” she asked. “How’s your love life?” “Not much happening,” he admitted. Marina looked at him thoughtfully. “You want a woman—beautiful like Ksenia, quiet like I used to be. Smart, but not so smart she’ll notice the way you look at others.” Nastya listened wide-eyed. “That woman doesn’t exist,” Marina said calmly. “Marina, let’s go?” Nastya chimed in. “Dad’s waiting in the car.” “Yes, of course.” Marina grabbed the coffee. “Good luck, Alex.” They walked off. Alex stood amid coffee shelves, thinking: Marina was right. He was searching for a woman who didn’t exist. That evening Alex sat in his kitchen, drank tea. Remembered Marina, who she’d become. Sometimes, losing something is the only way to realise how valuable it was. Maybe happiness isn’t about finding the ‘perfect wife’. It’s about learning to see the woman beside you.

When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? David asked his wife. Catherine responded unusually.

David was finishing his morning tea, casually watching Catherine. Her hair was tied up with a childish elastic band covered in little cartoon cats.

Yet, next door, Amber always seemed vibrant and immaculate. She wore expensive perfume that lingered in the hallway long after she disappeared into her flat.

You know, David put down his phone, sometimes I think we live more like neighbours than a married couple.

Catherine froze, cloth in hand.

Whats that supposed to mean?

Oh, nothing serious. Justwhen was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?

She blinked at him, searching his face. David suddenly realised things werent going to plan.

When was the last time you looked at me? Catherine asked softly.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Dont make this dramatic, Cath. Im just sayinga woman ought to look stunning. Its really that simple. Just look at Amber; shes the same age as you.

Oh, I see, murmured Catherine. Amber.

Something in her tone made David uneasy, as if she had stumbled upon something important.

Dave, she said after a pause, Ill go stay with Mum for a bit. Reflect on your words.

Alright. Maybe its best if we live apart for a while, think things over. Im not kicking you out, you know!

You know, Catherine hung the cloth on the hook, deliberate and calm, maybe I really do need to see myself in the mirror.

She began packing her suitcase.

David sat at the kitchen table, thinking, Blimey, this is what I wanted. Only, it didnt feel satisfying nowjust hollow.

For three days, David floated through life as if on holiday. Mornings brought unhurried tea, evenings whatever he fancied. No one put on soap operas about love and betrayal.

Freedompure, long-awaited male freedom.

One evening, David ran into Amber outside the building. She carried bags from Waitrose, balanced confidently on heels, her dress fitted perfectly.

David! she greeted him with a sparkling smile. How are you? Havent seen Catherine in ages.

Shes at her mums, having a break, he replied smoothly, not telling the truth.

Ah, Amber nodded knowingly. Women need a breather sometimesfrom chores, monotony, all of it.

She spoke as if she herself had never cleaned her flat or cooked a meal.

Amber, maybe youd like to grab a coffee sometime? David blurted. Just as neighbours, you know.

Why not? she said. Tomorrow evening?

That night, David mapped out the next day. Which shirt? Jeans or trousers? Not too much aftershave, hopefully.

In the morning, his phone rang.

David? a womans unfamiliar voice. Its Mrs. GreenCatherines mother.

His heart skipped.

Yes, Im listening.

Catherine asked me to let you know shell collect her things on Saturday when youre out. Shell leave the keys with the porter.

What do you mean, ‘collect her things’?

Did you think shed wait forever for you to decide whether you want her or not? Mrs. Greens voice was steely.

But I never said anything like that.

You said plenty. Goodbye, David.

She hung up.

David stared at his phone in the silent kitchen. What the devil? He hadnt divorced; it was supposed to be a pause. Time to think.

Theyd made all the decisions without him!

The coffee with Amber felt awkward. She was charming, chatted about her banking job, laughed at his jokes. When he reached for her hand, she gently withdrew.

David, you understandI cant. Youre still a married man.

But were, well, living separately now.

For now. What about tomorrow? Ambers gaze pinned him in place.

He walked her to the entrance and trudged up to his flat, greeted by the emptiness and the stale smell of single life.

Saturday. David deliberately left to avoid scenes, explanations, tears. Let her take everything in peace.

But by three in the afternoon he was trembling with curiosity. What did she take? Everything? Just essentials? How did she look?

By four, he couldnt help himselfhe rushed home.

Outside stood a car with local plates. Behind the wheel, a stranger in his forties, looking smart and friendly, helping someone load boxes.

David waited on the bench.

Ten minutes later, a woman entered wearing a blue dress. Her dark hair was clasped with an elegant clip, not a childish elastic. A touch of makeup outlined her eyes.

He stared in disbelief. It was Catherine. His Catherineonly different.

She carried the last bag and the man instantly helped, treating her with care, like she was made of crystal.

David couldnt resist. He strode up to the car.

Cath!

She turned. Her face was calm and striking. No trace of the weary exhaustion hed grown used to.

Hello, Dave.

Is that you?

The stranger tensed but Catherine lightly placed her hand on his armsignalling it was all right.

Yes, she replied simply. You just havent looked at me in a long time.

Cath, wait. Can we talk?

About what? She sounded surprised, not angry. You said a woman must always look stunning. So I took your advice.

But I didnt mean it like that! Davids heart raced.

What did you want, Dave? Catherine cocked her head. Did you want me to become beautiful just for you? Interesting, but only at home? Learn to love myself, but not enough to leave a husband who doesnt see me?

He listened, feeling something shift deep inside.

You know, she continued gently, I did stop looking after myself. Not out of laziness. I just got used to being invisiblein my own home, in my own life.

Cath, I didnt mean

You did. You wanted an invisible wife. Someone who did everything and didnt interfere. If you got boredyoud just trade her in for a flashier model.

The man in the car murmured something. Catherine nodded.

We should go, David. William is waiting.

William? His mouth ran dry. Whos William?

A man who sees me, Catherine replied. We met at the gymtheres one next door to Mums. Imagine, at forty-two I tried fitness for the first time.

Cath, please. Lets try again. I get it nowI was a fool.

Dave, she studied him, do you remember the last time you told me I was beautiful?

David said nothing. He couldnt recall.

When did you last ask how I was?

He realisedhed lost. Not to William, not to circumstances, but to himself.

William started the car.

Im not angry, David. Honestly. You showed me something important: if I dont see myself, nobody else will either.

The car pulled away.

David stood by the entrance, watching as his life drove off. Not his wifehis life. Fifteen years hed seen as humdrum, when actuallythey were happiness.

He just hadnt realised.

Six months later, David bumped into Catherine at John Lewis. By accident.

She was picking out coffee beans, reading the labels intently. Beside her stood a young woman of about twenty.

Lets get this one, she said. Dad says arabicas better than robusta.

Catherine? David approached.

She turned, smilingeasy, relaxed.

Hello, Dave. Meet EmilyWilliams daughter. Emily, this is David, my ex-husband.

Emily nodded politely. A pretty girlprobably a university student. Her gaze was curious but not unfriendly.

How are you? he asked.

I’m well. And you?

Alright.

Silenceawkward. What do you say to an ex-wife whos become someone new?

They lingered by the coffee shelf. She was tanned, in a light blouse, sporting a new haircut. Happy. Yeshappy.

And you? She glanced at him. Hows your personal life?

Oh, not much to report, he sighed.

Catherine studied him.

You know, Dave, youre searching for a woman whos as striking as Amber, but as mild as I used to be. Smart, but not observant enough to notice where your eyes wander.

Emilys eyes widened as she listened.

That woman doesnt exist, Catherine said quietly.

Catherine, shall we go? Emily chimed in. Dads waiting outside.

Yes, of course. Catherine grabbed the coffee. Good luck, Dave.

They walked away, leaving David among the shelves. He realisedCatherine was right. He was truly searching for a woman who didnt exist.

That evening, David made himself tea and sat in his silent kitchen. He thought of Catherine and the person she had become. Sometimes, losing something is the only way to understand its worth.

Perhaps happiness lies not in searching for the perfect wife, but in learning to truly see the woman beside you.