Shes just playing on my husbands feelings, Fiona complained.
I stared at my phone and felt that familiar irritation simmering up inside me again.
Richard had called me three times that evening.
Fi, love, Im so sorry, came his weary, guilty voice, worn deep into my bones. I know we were meant to go to the theatre, but well, Laura says Harrys running a really high temperature. Shes struggling to cope. Im sure you understand?
Oh, I understood.
I understood all too well.
Rich, weve got the tickets, I replied calmly, though every inch of me was screaming. Weve been waiting six weeks for this play!
I know, sweetheart. Ill make it up to you, promise. But hes just a kid. I cant just leave him like that.
Once I ended the call, I immediately rang my friend.
Lydia, can you believe it?! I paced the lounge, hands waving about. Again! Third time this month! First its his sons ill, then his exs car breaks down, and then some other nonsense!
Fi, maybe his son really is ill? Lydia suggested carefully.
Oh, I know that! I flopped onto the sofa. Kids get ill all the time, everyone knows that. But thats not the point. Whats not normal is that his ex calls him every single time! Doesnt she have parents? Friends?
Well
Dont well me! I snapped upright. Shes manipulating him! Rich is so kind, he cant see it! She knows hell drop everything and come running. She takes advantage of him!
Lydia sighed over the phone.
Are you sure the problems her?
Who else would it be? I froze.
I dont know. But just think about it. If a woman always rings her ex and he swoops in every time whos really using whom?
My mouth opened, then shut. Something sharp and uncomfortable twisted inside me.
Lyd, stop talking rubbish, I said, sharper than I meant. Rich is just a responsible father. He cant turn his back on his child!
All right, all right. I just meant…
But that just meant stuck with me. Like a splinter. Small and prickly and impossible to get out.
Richard came home late. Tired, rumpled, his face a picture of guilt.
Im such an idiot, sorry, he hugged me from behind, his nose pressed against my neck. Ill get us new tickets. Best seats in the house. Promise.
I said nothing. I just stared out the window, thinking how many times had I heard these promises? Five? Ten? Twenty?
And always the same words: You do understand, dont you.
I do, I thought. But Im not even sure what it is Im supposed to understand.
Then, the little things started to build up.
It began quietly, like dust gathering on a shelf not obvious, until you run a finger over it and there it is. A grey film.
I noticed Richard started carrying his phone everywhere. He used to leave it wherever on the dining table, the sofa, even in the bathroom. Now he took it with him everywhere, even just popping to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Rich, why do you take your mobile everywhere? I asked one evening, feigning a light tone.
Eh? Oh, just a habit. At work, I always have to answer calls.
Right.
Then, by total chance, I opened his calendar on his phone. I wanted to jot in our rearranged theatre trip. Instead, I saw: Pick up Harry from nursery 4pm, Drop Lauras car papers off, Ring L. about vaccinations.
L. is Laura his ex.
Rich, I said over dinner, idly stirring my tea so long the sugar must have dissolved ages ago, do you know when my dissertation presentation is?
He glanced up from his plate.
Presentation? Maybe May?
March. Two weeks away.
Oh, right. Sorry, my memorys rubbish these days.
Rubbish. But Lauras schedule he remembered to the minute.
Then there was the matter of money.
On the dining table, Richard had left his bank statement out. Three transfers for £200 each. The recipient: L. Thornbury.
Rich, I called, holding up the paper, whats this?
He didnt even look phased. Just sighed.
Im helping Laura out. Her mums been ill needed money for medicine, and then for Harrys after-school clubs. You get it, shes on her own.
Six hundred quid in three months, Rich.
So? Hes my son. I cant just watch them struggle!
I set the statement back on the table.
No, of course not. Its just odd you forgot to mention it to me.
I didnt forget! I just knew youd go off on one about it!
The way he said go off on one made it sound like I was being silly. Petty, jealous, over the top.
And then there was the car episode.
I jumped in the passenger seat and spotted a childs drawing on the back. There was a house, some flowers, a sun, and three people. Dad. Mum. Harry.
Not me.
I picked up the drawing, flipped it over in my hands. On the back, in wobbly writing: To Daddy from Harry. Our family.
Rich? I called quietly.
Yeah?
Wheres this from?
He glanced round.
Oh, Harry drew it. Clever little lad, isnt he?
I stared at the picture. At Richard. At the picture again.
Rich. It says our family.
So? Hes only little. To him, familys me, Laura and himself. Kids psychology thats how he sees it.
I laid the drawing back. Sat up straight, buckled in. Stayed silent all the way home.
Then Laura started showing up in person.
First, to pick up Harrys things that were left here. Then again, to chat about the summer holidays. Then just because, happened to be passing by, thought Id pop in.
Laura was unfailingly polite. Calm. Smiling.
Hi Fiona! shed say, as if we were mates. Hope Im not interrupting. Is Rich in?
And every time she left, Richard turned distant. Lost. Stared into the middle distance and barely answered me.
Whats up? Id ask.
Nothing. Just tired.
I started to feel like the odd one out. Like I was in the way.
Then, I overheard a phone call by accident.
Richard was in the shower. He mustve thought the door was shut. But it wasnt, and I heard:
Laura, oh, please dont cry I said Id help Honestly, you know Im always here for you.
His voice soft. Gentle. Intimate, almost.
I left the door. Sat down on the sofa. Suddenly, I understood.
She wasnt manipulating him.
He was letting it happen.
Because thats what suited him.
For the next three days, I said nothing.
No scenes. No ranting. I just observed. Like a scientist staring at some rare insect under a microscope calmly, detached.
And this is what I saw.
Richard knew Lauras schedule better than mine. Nursery dates, after-school clubs, her doctors appointments all marked in his calendar. But hed forgotten my dissertation date.
He was always messaging someone. The phone buzzed constantly. Hed snatch it up, type quickly, and his face would soften. Guilty. Like he was sneaking around.
One evening, his phone rang while he was showering. I glanced at the screen.
Laura.
I picked it up.
Rich? came Lauras teary voice. Richard, can you could you come over? I feel awful. I dont know who else to call.
I stayed silent.
Rich? Are you there? I just I cant do this alone anymore. Please. Youve always been there for me.
I hung up. Put the phone down. Sat on the sofa and oddly started to laugh.
Dear God. What a fool Id been. Gullible, blind fool.
Richard wandered out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around him, hair dripping.
Laura rang you, I said simply.
He froze.
You answered my phone?!
I did. I stood up, looked straight at him. She was crying. Said she needed you. Said youd always been there.
He was silent. You could see him fumbling for words, searching for excuses.
Look, he started, Lauras having a really hard time. Shes got no one else. Just me. I cant just abandon her!
Abandon? I gave a little laugh. Rich, you divorced four years ago. She isnt your wife. Shes your ex. You already left her. Long ago.
But weve got a child together!
And so what does that mean? I stepped forward. That you should run to her every time she calls and says Harry? That you secretly send her money? That you memorise her routine like clockwork?
Youre exaggerating!
Am I?!
Something inside me snapped. I grabbed my bag and started stuffing clothes into it.
You know, Rich, I spent so long convincing myself the problem was her. That she was manipulating you. Using the kid. That she was the evil one who just couldnt let go.
I turned to look at him.
But the truth is, the problem isnt her. Its you. You let her do it. In fact you want it this way. Because it suits you. Two lives, Rich. One ex-wife who always needs you, and one partner who just has to put up with it. No decision needs making. Nice and easy.
Fiona, dont. Please dont go.
Im not leaving, I said quietly. Im stepping out. Out of this triangle, where theres never room for me. Understand? Im not fighting your ex. Im just not playing your game anymore.
Richard stood there wet, confused, pathetic.
Fi, wait. Lets talk about this.
Theres nothing left to say. I put on my coat. You made your choice ages ago. I was just too naive to see it. But I do now. Crystal clear.
I opened the front door.
Goodbye, Richard. Tell Laura she can ring you whenever she likes now.
The door clicked shut, gently.
A month later, I was sat in a café with Lydia.
How are you doing? she asked, gently.
Im all right. I managed a proper smile. Honestly. I am.
And it was true. The first week was hard a dull ache in my chest, a longing to call, to write, to go back. But I stayed strong. Found a little studio flat, picked up a part-time job, finished my dissertation.
Richard called. A lot. Sent long, confused texts, full of apologies and explanations and promises.
Fiona, Im so sorry. I get it now. You were right. Can we start over?
I ignored him. There was no point. Because the problem wasnt Laura it was him. Until he figured that out for himself, nothing would ever change.
Hows he? Lydia asked.
Who?
Richard, obviously.
Oh. I shrugged. No idea. We dont speak.
Lydia hesitated.
Do you regret it?
Did I? Strangely, no. I felt something else relief. As if Id put down a heavy rucksack Id lugged around for months.
I made my choice. I finished my coffee. For him. And for myself.
Lydia grinned.
Good for you.
Oh, I dont know, I laughed. Guess I just grew up a bit.
Richard, meanwhile, was left on his own.
Laura, surprisingly, soon stopped calling him. Without me as an audience, the whole routine lost its point. And when he tried to recapture their old closeness, she was coldly unmoved.
You picked her, remember, Laura said calmly. So live with it. Ive sorted my own life out now. I dont need your help any more.
Richard still tried to win me back. Hed wait by my flat, lurk outside my work, send long heartfelt messages. But I stood firm.
Rich, let me go, I told him for the last time. And let yourself go, too. Were not right for each other. You wanted two lives at once. I just want one life a real one.
That evening, walking through town, I reflected on how oddly life goes. Id been so afraid of being on my own, so scared of losing Richard. And when I did, I found Id lost nothing at all.
Because anyone who cant make a choice can never give you anything real.
And I knew then I deserved something real.
One thing Ive learned: sometimes holding on only means youre standing in your own way. The real bravery is choosing yourself and stepping out into your own story at last.
