Her husband walked in the door and, without even taking off his shoes or coat, blurted out, “Emma! We need to have a serious talk…”
Then, without missing a beat and with his eyes wide open, declared, “I’ve fallen in love!”
“Well, here it comes,” thought Emma. “Middle-age crisis has arrived in our family. Hello, hello…” Yet, she said nothing and instead looked at her husband more intently than she had in the past five or six years (or maybe even eight?).
They say your whole life flashes before your eyes before you die, and for Emma, their entire life together started to play out in her mind. They met in a rather ordinary way—online. Emma shaved off three years from her age, while her future husband added an inch to his height. And so, they managed to fit into each other’s search criteria, albeit just barely.
Emma couldn’t quite remember who messaged who first, but she distinctly recalled that his message lacked any crudeness and was laced with a gentle self-deprecating humor, which she found appealing. At thirty-three, with average looks, she was realistic about her chances on the marriage market and knew she was likely not in the last row but surely the second-to-last. So, she resolved to keep her wits about her for the first meeting, be all ears, don rose-tinted glasses and lace lingerie, and stash homemade cookies and a volume of Jane Austen in her purse.
Surprisingly, the first date went smoothly (who knew the right outfit could do wonders!). Their romance took off rapidly. They enjoyed each other’s company, and after six months of regular dates and the constant pressure from eager parents longing for grandchildren, he plucked up the courage and proposed to Emma. They introduced their families, and since both the bride and groom wanted a small, intimate wedding, their families happily obliged. To make sure no one changed their minds, they picked the first available date for their wedding.
Emma thought their life together was good. The atmosphere at home was tropical, with minor seasonal fluctuations, devoid of intense drama but filled with mutual respect and warmth—wasn’t that happiness?
Her husband, being a straightforward, simple man, shed his refined, romantic persona a few weeks after the wedding, revealing the easygoing, hardworking guy he truly was, favoring comfortable sweatpants.
Emma, representing a more complex feminine sphere, gradually let go of her tightly-corseted image of the ideal, all-knowing, flattering homemaker. A swift pregnancy sped up this process, allowing her to happily swap her sophisticated facade for a cozy dressing gown within a year.
The fact that neither of them ran from the relationship, despite dropping their pretenses, convinced Emma she had made the right choice and bolstered her faith in their union. Raising two closely spaced children and everyday life rocked their family boat quite a bit, but it never capsized. And after each storm, they continued to sail the calm seas of their life together.
Grateful grandparents pitched in where they could, and at work, they climbed the career ladder at a steady, albeit slow pace. They traveled, pursued hobbies, and, most importantly, made time for each other, maintaining a balanced and typical lifestyle.
After twelve years of marriage, he had never been caught cheating nor even lightly flirting with anyone else, even though Emma wasn’t the jealous type, and he probably could have done so without causing a scandal. She imagined him flirting and couldn’t help but grin at how amusing and absurd the image was. The truth was, after a few failed attempts at traditional compliments early in their relationship, he ditched that path in favor of silent admiration (or was it some ultrasonic frequency Emma couldn’t hear?), simply widening his eyes like a startled owl.
In their years together, Emma learned to read the entire spectrum of her husband’s emotions by the degree of his eye expansion: from wild admiration to pleased approval, from accidental surprise to unexpected confusion, from deep misunderstanding to complete dismay. She pictured him lavishing one compliment after another on a rat, eyes getting wider and wider…
Emma felt her throat dry up at the thought of her husband transforming into an owl, and with a nervous smile, she croaked, “So, what’s your rat’s name?”
Her husband’s eyes actually looked like they’d pop out, and he fumbled awkwardly, stammering, “How? How did you even… how could you… guess that I fell for a rat?! My word… You’ve got it all wrong. I just couldn’t ignore it; I was amazed when I saw her… Just look, she’s so delightful, so soft, so beautiful… she could be your twin…”
He pulled out a small grey rat with pink translucent ears, a pink nose, and shiny beady eyes from under his coat.
Emma didn’t hear anything else. She just admired her husband, his new companion, and their mutual affection and felt endlessly grateful that the object of his newfound affection was this rat, who resembled her.
