Shes just manipulating my husband, Charlotte fumed.
Staring at her phone, I felt that familiar, simmering irritation building up inside me once again.
Edward had called for the third time that evening.
Charlie, Im really sorry, love, his voice sounded tired, apologetic, so familiar that it stung. I know we planned to go to the theatre, but well, Emma just called, and James has a high fever. Shes struggling on her own. You understand, right?
Of course, I did.
A bit too well, perhaps.
Ed, weve already bought the tickets, I replied as calmly as I could, though everything inside me was in turmoil. Weve waited six weeks for this play!
I know, sweetheart. I promise Ill make it up to you. But its James I cant just leave him.
After hanging up, I rang my best mate.
Megan, can you believe it? I paced the sitting room, arms flailing in the air. Again! Third time this month! Its always something his sons poorly, the exs cars knackered, or some other nonsense!
Charlie, maybe his son really *is* ill? Megan ventured gently.
I know, I know! I flopped down onto the sofa. Kids get sick, it happens. But its always him she calls! Doesnt she have parents? Friends?
Well
Oh, dont well me! I shot up from the couch. Shes pulling his strings! Eds soft; he doesnt see it. She knows hell drop everything in a flash. And she milks it!
Megan sighed on the other end.
Are you sure the problems with her?
With who else, then?! I snapped.
I mean just think about it. She calls her ex-husband, and he always drops everything and rushes over whos really being used?
I stood frozen.
Dont be ridiculous, Megan, I replied sharply. Eds just a caring dad. He cant leave his kid.
Alright, alright, Megan said quickly. I just meant, you know food for thought.
But that food for thought stuck in my mind, like a splinter that wouldnt come out.
Edward got home late. He looked exhausted, rumpled, guilty.
Im an idiot, Im sorry, he whispered, hugging me from behind, pressing his nose into my neck. Ill buy us new tickets, best seats in the house. Promise.
I was silent, staring out of the window. How many promises like that had there been? Five? Ten? Twenty?
Always the same: You understand.
I do, I thought to myself. I just dont know what it is Im supposed to understand.
Then, little things started to pile up.
At first it was subtle like dust on a bookshelf. You dont notice, but skim your finger along and there it is. That grey film.
I realised that Ed had become strangely secretive with his mobile. He used to leave it anywhere: coffee table, sofa, even in the bathroom. Now he took it everywhere, even just to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
Ed, why do you always take your phone with you? I asked casually one evening, trying to keep it light.
Hm? Oh just a habit, I suppose. Works always ringing, you know what its like.
Fine.
Then, by chance, I saw his calendar. Id only opened it to jot down our rescheduled theatre night. But there it was: Pick up James from nursery 4:00, Drop off car documents to Emma, Call E. about vaccinations.
E. thats Emma.
Ed, I said over supper, stirring my tea so long all the sugar had dissolved, do you know when my dissertation defence is?
He looked up from his plate.
Your what? Er, May, isnt it?
March. Two weeks away.
Oh. Right. Sorry, heads like a sieve.
Head like a sieve. Yet Emmas schedule was memorised to the minute.
And there were the bank transfers.
I stumbled on the statement, left on the kitchen table three transfers of £200 each. Recipient: E. Turner.
Ed, I asked, holding up the paper. Whats this?
He didnt even pause. Just sighed.
Im helping Emma out. Her mums unwell, needed money for medicine. Then James activities. You know how it is, shes on her own.
Six hundred quid, Ed. In three months.
So what? Hes my son! Should I just leave them to struggle?
I set the statement back down.
No, of course not. Just odd you never mentioned it.
Its not like I forgot! I just knew youd get like this.
This like this sounded as if I were some hysterical nit-picker. Petty. Jealous. Silly.
Then there was the incident in the car.
I slid into the passenger seat and noticed the drawing on the back seat a house, flowers, blazing sun, and three people: Dad. Mum. James.
No me.
I picked up the drawing. Turned it over. Scrawled in a clumsy childs hand: To Dad from James. Our Family.
Ed, I called quietly.
Whats up?
Wheres this from?
He glanced over.
Oh, James made it. Pretty good, isnt it? Talented lad.
I stared at the picture. Then at Ed. Then back at the picture.
Ed. It says our family.
Well, yeah. Hes little. For him, family means me, Emma, and himself. Thats just how kids see the world.
I placed the drawing back, straightened up, clipped in my seatbelt. I didnt say another word the whole way.
Then Emma started showing up in person.
At first, just once to pick up James things that Ed had kept. Then again, to talk about summer holidays. Then, just popping by if she was in the area.
Emma was calm. Polite. All smiles.
Hi, Charlotte! she would greet me, as if we were old friends. Not interrupting, am I? Is Ed home?
And always after these visits, Ed was distant. Preoccupied. Gazing off into nowhere. Answers cut short.
Whats up? Id ask.
Oh, nothing. Just tired.
I started feeling like the outsider. Like I didnt belong.
One day, by accident, I overheard a phone call.
Ed was in the shower and thought the door was firmly shut. But it wasnt. I heard:
Emma, please, dont cry Of course Ill help You know Im always here for you.
His voice was soft. Gentle. Almost intimate.
I moved away from the door, sat on the sofa, and finally realised something.
He wasnt being manipulated.
He let it happen.
Because it suited him.
For three days, I said nothing. No scenes. I was just quiet, observing. Like a scientist studying a rare bug under a microscope calm, detached.
And heres what I saw.
Ed knew Emmas schedule better than mine. He knew when James had nursery, clubs, when Emma had GP appointments. All marked in his calendar. My dissertation? He forgot.
Ed was messaging all the time. The phone would buzz, hed snatch it, tap something back quickly, face softening, guilty. As though he were doing something forbidden.
One evening, his phone rang while he was in the shower. I glanced at the screen.
Emma.
Almost automatically, I picked it up.
Ed? Ed, can you come over? Please? Emmas voice was small, tearful. I dont know who else to call. I cant do this on my own. You always used to be here for me
Silence from me.
Ed? Are you there? I just I need you. Please.
I pressed end. Put the phone back. Sat. And suddenly, I laughed.
God, what a fool Id been. Blind, naive fool.
Ed came out of the bathroom, hair dripping, towel around his waist.
Emma phoned, I said, calm as you like.
He froze.
You answered?
I did, I said, standing up, meeting his eyes. She was crying. Told me youve always been there for her.
He was silent, searching for words, for justifications I saw it on his face.
Listen, he started, Emmas going through a rough patch. Shes got nobody else. Just me. I cant just abandon her.
Abandon? I snorted. Ed, you got divorced four years ago. Shes not your wife. Shes your ex. You already left. Long ago.
But we have a child!
So what does that mean? I stepped closer. That when she rings and mutters James you have to run? That you secretly transfer her money? That you remember her schedule, not mine?
Youre blowing this out of proportion!
Am I?!
I felt something snap inside. I grabbed my bag and started stuffing things inside.
Ed, for so long, I convinced myself she was the problem. That she was using you, using James, playing some wicked game to keep you close.
I turned.
But the truth is, Ed, youre the problem. You *let* her do it. You *want* her to. Its easier that way. Two lives your needy ex, and your understanding current partner. You never pick. Because its easier.
Dont go, Charlie.
Im not going. Im leaving. My voice was gentle. Leaving this triangle where Im always third. Im not competing with your ex. Im stepping out of your game.
He stood there in the middle of the room wet, lost, pitiful.
Charlie, come on. We need to talk.
Theres nothing to talk about. I pulled on my coat. You already chose long ago. Ive only just realised. And now, its blindingly clear.
I opened the front door.
Goodbye, Ed. Give Emma my regards. Tell her she can call any hour she likes.
The door closed with a quiet click.
A month later, I sat in a cafe with Megan.
How are you? she asked, softly.
Im okay. I managed a real smile. Truly.
It was true. The first week stung a hollow ache in my chest, the urge to call, to message, to crawl back. But I didnt. I found a shoebox flat, got some temp work, and finished my dissertation.
Ed called. Lots. Left rambling voicemails, texted apologies, long explanations and promises.
Charlie, Im so sorry. I get it now. You were right. Lets start again.
I didnt reply. I knew it was pointless. Because the problem was never Emma. It was him. And unless he figured that out for himself, nothing would ever change.
Hows he? Megan asked.
Who?
Ed, obviously.
Ive no idea, I shrugged. Were not in touch.
Silence.
Do you regret it?
Did I? No. Oddly enough, no. What I felt now was something else. Relief, like finally shrugging off a heavy rucksack Id been carrying for months.
I made my choice. I finished my coffee. For him and for me.
Megan smiled.
Well done, love.
Its nothing, I shrugged. Just growing up, I suppose.
Ed ended up on his own.
Emma, surprisingly, stopped calling almost immediately. Without me as audience, her little act bored her. When Ed tried to win her back, she shut him down.
You made your choice, Ed, she told him steadily. Live with it. My lifes good. I dont need you anymore.
Ed tried to win me back, too. Turned up at my flat, hung about at my work, fired off long texts. But I stood firm.
Ed, let me go, I told him the last time. Let yourself go, too. We dont suit each other. You wanted to juggle two lives. I want one. One thats real.
Walking through the dusky city, I reflected on just how odd life is. Id been so scared of being alone. So scared of losing Ed. Yet, in the end, I lost nothing.
Because anyone who cant truly choose cant give anything real.
And I deserve something real.
My one lesson? Dont accept being someones backup plan. If youre not their clear choice, its time to choose yourself.
