After saying that, do I really have to sit here, pretend everythings fine and keep smiling? No, celebrate without me! Emily snapped the bedroom door shut.
That morning shed woken up far earlier than usual. Without opening her eyes she thought: todays the big forty. Once that number seemed a distant, almost unreachable thing. Now she meets it every day in the mirrorwrinkles by the eyes, a hint of fatigue in her gaze.
I lay there breathing calmly, not moving a muscle as Emily slipped out from under the blanket. I was fast asleep, but I did keep an eye on hershe seems to be getting younger each year. She glanced at the clock: 5:30. Plenty still to do before the guests arrive.
She quietly closed the bedroom door and headed to the kitchen. Our flat was to become the meeting point of two worlds todayher family and my friends. Years have passed and weve never really felt that genuine unity. Her old friends have long disappeared into daily life, while my circle remains the same faces, the same topics.
She made coffee and opened the fridge. The night before shed stayed up preparing: meat in a marinate, sliced veg, all the bits for salads. Now she had to turn that into a celebratory spread. Usually wed order in or go out, but this was a milestone. We wanted a cosy, homegrown atmosphere.
Emily, do you have two hundred pounds? a voice called from the kitchen doorway.
Sixteenyearold Tommy stood there, dishevelled but already in jeans and a tee.
Whatre you up to so early? Emily asked, pulling a note from her wallet.
We were planning to go cycling, early so we dont get burnt out. Ill be back this evening, just in time for the party.
Tommy, do you know what day it is? she prompted.
He thought for a moment, then gave a guilty smile. Of course, your birthday. I just didnt want to wake you up, thought Id greet you later.
Dont you want to stay and help? I cant do it all alone
He hesitated. Mum, wed agreed earlier, but Ill be back. Isnt Sophie coming to help?
Shes still at the countryside cottage with a friend. Shell be back before six.
Alright youre already handling things better than anyone, he shrugged.
Emily sighed. Shed once taken pride in holding everything together. Now it only wore her out.
Go then, but be home on time, she said.
Tommy gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished. A few seconds later the front door slammed.
By nine Emily was deep in preparation. The oven was heating for the meat, the veg waited to be chopped, the cheesecake batter rested under a towel. The air filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and spices.
Morning, I called, appearing in the kitchen in wellworn trainers. Whats got you up so early?
How do you think? she replied coolly. Guests are due at six. Theres a mountain of work.
You could have slept a bit longer. Its your day, after all. I poured myself a cup. Happy birthday, by the way.
I leaned in, brushed my thumb against her cheek. My cologne had a hint of mint.
Thanks, Emily said, longing for a gesture, a present, at least a question: Anything I can do for you?
But I was already scrolling through my phone at the kitchen table.
Are you off work today? she asked, cracking eggs.
No, its a day off. Sometimes you have to stay home and get things done
Great. So could you help me set the table?
Sure, as soon as I finish the news. I muttered without looking up.
Three hours later I shuffled into the living room, caught by a football match and the usual banter. Emily kept chopping, mixing, whisking, baking, thinking: Forty years. This is how I spend it
Exactly at three the doorbell rang. Emily wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it. Her younger sister Lucy stood on the step with a bunch of red carnations.
Happy birthday, love! Lucy said, hugging Emily with one arm. I came a bit early to lend a hand. Still cooking?
Been on my feet since dawn, Emily replied, inviting her in. Guests are due at six, but Im glad youre here.
Wheres the fancy outfit? Lucy glanced at Emilys simple tee and faded jeans.
What outfit? Emily sighed, waving her hand. The salads arent finished, the cake isnt decorated, the table isnt set
Lucy assessed the kitchen, then turned to the hallway. And James? Is he clueless?
Hes busy.
From the living room came a irritated shout: What are you doing, useless! Move it!
Lucy muttered, All right, Ill deal with him. She marched into the living room, delivering something energetic to me, but I didnt pay attention. Soon I returned to the kitchen, face a shade darker.
What do you need? I grunted.
Could you set the table in the living room? Emily said calmly. Lucy, could you help him with the dishes, please?
The next few hours passed without major arguments. Under Lucys watch, I followed instructions, occasionally disappearing into the TV, but generally getting things done. By fivepastsix the main tasks were finished. Emily finally realised how exhausted she was: shoulders sore, legs aching, and a whole evening of celebration still ahead.
Go change, Lucy urged, nudging her gently from the kitchen. Ive got this.
Emily slipped into the bedroom. In the wardrobe waited a new darkblue dress, bought especially for the occasionelegant, with a nice neckline. But she had no energy or desire for makeup or an elaborate hairstyle. She pulled on her usual black work dress, freshened her face, tinted her lips, and returned to the guests just in time: the doorbell was already ringing.
By six the flat was full. Parents, old friends wed known for years, my colleagues, even children: Sophie brought a stylish cake from a famous patisserie, and Tommy a greeting card hed bought on the way home.
Emily greeted everyone with a strained smile. Her head was buzzing, but she couldnt even slip into the bathroom for a quick pillpeople kept asking, wanting something. Then I suddenly perked up: joking, laughing, pouring drinks, and, theatrically, hugging Emily each time someone toasted her.
Finally everyone sat down. Emily plated the main dishroast meat, my signature, always reliable.
Emily, maybe we dont need so many salads, I whispered as she ladled out the potato salad. Theres already enough mayo. Youve been overdoing it lately
I didnt finish the sentence, but a quick glance at her waist said more than words. Her cheeks flushed. Lucy, sitting nearby, gave me a brief look.
The meat turned out a bit dry, I announced loudly, cutting a slice. Probably left it in too long.
Its perfect, I think, Emilys mother interjected.
Im not being harsh, I raised my hands. Just last time it was a bit juicier.
Emily stayed silent, chewing, eyes fixed on her plate. What should have been a cosy evening felt like another humiliation, witnessed by all.
Toasts went one after anothercareer success, beauty, youth. Parents wished health and patience. Eventually I stood, lifted my glass, and addressed the room:
I want to wish my wife a happy fortieth. This age is serious, but Emily is doing brilliantly. For her years, shes still going strong
A nervous chuckle rippled through the table.
though, of course, she could take a bit more care of herself, I added, keeping my smug smile. But we love you anyway. To you, love!
Silence fell. Glasses rose reluctantly, smiles tight. Most avoided eye contact with Emily. She sat motionless, staring at the tablecloth. Something long held back finally rose from deep within.
She stood slowly.
Thank you for the wishes, she said quietly and walked out.
From the bedroom hallway came murmurs that soon turned into ordinary chatter. No one followed hercertainly not me.
Emily stood before the mirror. In the reflection was a tired woman, eyes dulled, hair a mess, looking entirely ordinary. When had she stopped being herself? How had she allowed it?
She opened the wardrobe, pulled out the same darkblue dress saved for this night, slipped it on carefully, adjusted the neckline, dusted off the earrings James had given her when his words still sounded loving, not reproachful. From a shelf she retrieved the heeled shoes shed worn on our weddingthey still fit perfectly.
She grabbed her phone and dialed a familiar number.
Hey, its me. Its my birthday I know its sudden, but could we meet? I dont want to be alone tonight. How about the Willow at half past seven? Great, Ill book a table.
She hung up, looked again in the mirror. This time the woman staring back was differentstraight back, clear eyes, a faint smile. Confidence was returning.
She stepped back into the living room; everyone fell silent. All eyes turned to her. I stood, surprised.
Well, look at that! I exclaimed. Now thats a proper birthday look. Why didnt you change earlier? Come on over!
Emily smiled for the first time all daygenuinely.
No, James, Im not staying.
What? Why? I asked, bewildered.
After everything thats been said, do I have to sit here and pretend Im happy? No. Im going to spend this day my way. A taxi will be here in a few minutes. Im off to a restaurant with a friend.
What are you talking about? That was a joke! I gestured at the guests, searching for support. In every joke
She began, then stopped. It doesnt matter now. Im leaving. Thanks, everyone, and have a good evening.
She turned and headed for the door. Lucy caught up with her in the hallway.
Emily, maybe you shouldnt? Lucy whispered. You know he didnt mean to hurt you
Lucy, Emily said calmly, looking straight into her eyes, Ive heard those excuses for sixteen years. Maybe he truly didnt mean it, but Im done tolerating it, especially on my day.
She hugged Lucy and walked out.
The stairwell was quiet and cool. As she descended, each step felt lighter, as if a weight was lifting. The defence shed built up vanished. Nothing held her back any longer.
What would happen next she didnt know. Perhaps Id finally understand. Perhaps not. But now, at forty, Emily felt alive for the first time in ages.
Outside, the evening air was warm. A taxi waited at the curb. She got in, gave the driver the address, felt her phone buzz in her bagmy name on the screen. She didnt look, just silenced it.
That night belonged only to her, and only she decided how to live it.
