Even thirty years of marriage is no reason to tolerate betrayal
Helen turns a small box over in her handsthe velvet is faded, the gold lettering barely legible. Inside, three tiny stones glimmer. Beautiful, she has to admit.
Five hundred pounds, says Oliver, scrolling through news on his tablet. Bought it at The Golden Jewelers, with my loyalty card.
Thank you, love.
Something tightens in her chest. Its not the priceat their age, whats there to complain about? Its how casually he says it. Like hes telling her he bought milk.
Thirty years together. Pearl anniversarya rarity these days. Helen gets up early, pulls a lace-edged tablecloth from the cupboarda wedding present from her mother-in-law. She starts making Angel Cake, the dessert Oliver once called a slice of heaven.
Now he sits glued to the screen, barely grunting in reply to her questions.
Oliver, do you remember you promised to take me to Italy for our thirtieth?
Mm-hmm, eyes fixed on his tablet.
I thought maybe we could at least have a break in Cornwall? Its been ages since we went away together.
Helen, Ive got a pressing project. Not a good time.
A project. Theres always a project. Especially in the past year and a half, since Oliver caught this fever of youth. Joined a gym, bought expensive trainers, revamped his wardrobe. Even his haircuts trendyfringe swept aside, sides shaved.
Midlife crisis, her friend Sophie says. They all go through it. Itll pass.
It didnt pass. Only got worse.
Helen tries on the ringit fits perfectly. At least after all these years, he remembers her size. The stones shimmer coldly.
Its pretty, she repeats, inspecting her gift.
Yeah. Trendy cut. Youthful style.
That evening, they sit almost silently at the anniversary dinner. The cake is perfect as everlight and airy. Oliver eats a slice, compliments her without thinking. Helen looks at him, wonderingwhen did he become a stranger?
Whos that woman? she asks suddenly.
Which woman? Oliver lifts his eyes from the plate.
The one who picked out this youthful ring.
Whats she got to do with it?
Oliver, her voice is steady, dont take me for a fool. A woman chose this ring. No man ever says youthful style.
A long, awkward pause.
Helen, this is nonsense.
Her names Alicia?
Oliver pales. Doesnt even ask how she knows. Shes hit the mark.
I saw your messages by accident. A month ago, remember? When you asked me to find the insurance companys number on your phone. Sunshine, Ill see you soonsound familiar?
He falls silent.
Shes twenty-eight, in your office. Yesterday she posted photos from that restaurantthe one with the window seat, where you sat. I recognised the tablecloth.
How do you know about the restaurant?
Sophie saw you. By chance. You think people dont notice here in town?
Oliver sighs heavily.
Alright. Yes, theres Alicia. But its not what you think.
Then what is it?
She understands me. With her, everything is easy. We talk about books, films.
Cant talk with me?
Helen, look at yourself! You only talk about our kids, about health, how much things cost at the shops. With Alicia, I feel alive.
Alive, she echoes. I see.
I wasnt trying to hurt you.
Oliver lowers his head.
Does she know youre married?
She does.
And doesnt mind? Happy with a married man?
Shes modern, Helen. No delusions.
Modern, Helen laughs quietly. So thirty years with you is just a delusion?
She gets up and starts clearing the table, hands trembling, but she tries to hide it.
Helen, can we talk properly?
Theres nothing to discuss. Youve made your choice.
I havent chosen anyone!
You have. Every day. When you come back late. When you lie about business trips. When you buy her gifts with my money.
Our money!
Mine too. I work as well, dont forget.
Helen washes up, sets everything out to dry. Folds away the tablecloth, puts it back in the cupboard. Routine as always, except her hands still shake.
Helen, what do you want? Oliver asks, standing in the kitchen doorway.
I want to be alone. Tonight. To think.
And tomorrow?
I dont know.
She barely speaks for two days. Oliver tries to talk, but she answers with polite, short phrases. On the third day, he snaps.
How long will this go on?
Whats bothering you? asks Helen, ironing his shirt. I do everythingcleaning, cooking, laundry. Same as ever.
But you dont talk to me!
Why should I? Youve got Alicia for conversation.
Helen!
What, Helen? You said yourselfIm boring, nothing to talk about. Why force it?
That evening, he leaves, saying hes off to see friends. Helen knows: hes going to her.
She sits at her computer, opens Alicias profile. Pretty. Young. Pictures on fancy holidays, trendy clothes, glasses of champagne.
A post from yesterday: Life is beautiful when someone truly values you. Hashtagslove, happiness, matureman.
Mature man. Helen laughs. Like a product description.
Comments from friends: Alicia, whens the wedding?, Lucky you found him!, What will his wife say?
Alicias reply to the last: Their marriage has been just formal for ages. Like neighbours.
Thirty yearsas neighbours.
Next morning, Helen books an appointment with a solicitor. A young man with glasses listens attentively.
Understood. Joint assets split fifty-fifty. House, cottage, car. If we prove the affair, you can claim a greater share.
No need. I just want it fair, Helen replies.
At home, she writes out her list:
Housesell and split proceeds.
Cottagehe can have it. I wont go there again.
Carfor me. He can buy a new one.
Bank accountssplit.
Oliver comes home late and sees the list on the table.
Whats this?
Divorce.
Are you mad?
No. Ive finally found my senses.
Helen, I explained! Its just a fling, itll pass!
And if it doesnt? Should I wait another thirty years for you to grow out of it?
Oliver slumps onto the sofa, head in hands.
I never meant to hurt you.
But you did.
What am I supposed to do now?
Choose, Helen says. Family, or Alicia. Theres no third option.
For three months, they truly live as neighbours. Oliver moves to the spare room. They only speak when necessary. Helen signs up for English classes, swimming, starts reading books she hadnt found time for before.
Alicia rings now and then, sobbing into the phone. Oliver goes out on the balcony, explaining things in whispers.
One evening, he comes home early and sits across from Helen.
Ive ended it with her.
Why tell me?
Helen, Ive realisedI was an idiot. Made a horrible mistake.
I agree.
Can we try again? Im changed.
Helen closes her book.
Oliver, you didnt leave her because you realised my worth. You left because you got bored. Therell be a new Alicia in a year or two.
There wont.
There will. Because youre not grieving for me, youre grieving your lost youth. And I cannot help you with that.
Helen.
The divorce papers are ready. Sign them.
He signs. No big fights, no asset battles. Helen only takes what shes decided.
Six months later, she meets Rowana fellow widower and English teacher. They meet at her language course. He invites her to the theatre.
You know, Helen, he says over coffee after the show, I really enjoy talking to you. Youre fascinating company.
Really? My ex-husband found me boring.
He just didnt know how to listen.
Rowan does. He values her thoughts, laughs at her jokes, and shares stories about himselfnever trying to act younger.
What do you seek in a man? Helen asks once.
Intelligence. Kindness. Sincerity. And youin men?
Honesty. And someone whos not afraid of his age.
They both laugh.
Oliver phones sometimes. Holiday greetings, checking on her health. Like two old acquaintances.
Are you happy? he asks one day.
Yes, she replies at once. And you?
Im not sure. Probably not.
Well, we make our own choices.
She still keeps the ring that cost five hundred pounds. Doesnt wear itjust keeps it in her jewelry box. A reminder of how easily thirty years can be made to feel worthless.
Rowan, for her birthday, gives her an old broochpicked up at a flea market. Not expensive, but chosen with care.
Real beauty isnt in the price, he says. But in the feeling behind the gift.
And Helen realisesafter fifty, life doesnt stop. It begins anew.
What about you? Do you think its possible to start over from scratch later in life? Share your thoughts.
