“And What Have You Achieved With All Your Complaining?” Asked Her Husband—But What Happened Next Left Him Stunned When life squeezes your chest at five in the morning, Marina sits on the edge of the bed and stares out the window. Her heart’s lost its rhythm: two beats, silence, three beats, quiet. Yesterday, the doctor diagnosed panic attacks. He sent her for further tests. After eighteen years, Marina had changed from a driven young woman with an economics degree to… what, really? An accessory to her husband’s business? A makeshift bookkeeper handling his paperwork? The cleaner who mops up at night because Andrew’s blind to mess? “Awake?” Andrew said, shuffling into the kitchen, looking rumpled and put out. “Didn’t sleep last night again?” Marina only nodded, made his coffee, and plucked the usual yogurt from the fridge. “By the way,” he said, sipping, “I’m off to Manchester today. Three days. Meeting with a supplier—important one.” “Andrew.” She knew not to start. She knew that look—like she’s begging for sympathy he doesn’t have. Yet she said, “Please, not now. I’m really unwell. The doctor insists on tests.” He paused, set his cup down, and exhaled sharply—the patience of a man who’s heard it all before. “And what have you achieved with all your complaining?” His voice almost calm now, not even annoyed. More indifferent. “I need to work, Marina. Not listen to your drama about how hard it all is. Honestly, who isn’t tired?” He began packing as if by habit—expecting silence, expecting her to swallow her hurt, to blame herself. But Marina, for once, didn’t stay silent. “Andrew,” she stood slowly. “Do you even remember who the mortgage is under?” He scoffed. “Does it matter? Probably both of us.” “It’s just me. Only me.” Something seemed to snap in the air. His face changed. “What’s your point?” “Eight years ago, when we bought this flat, you were in serious debt. The bank would never have approved you. Remember?” He was silent. “So yes—the mortgage is in my name. The flat as well. Plus, I’m co-signer on your business loans. Guarantor. Without me, you can’t extend, expand, or even operate.” Andrew slowly returned to the table, legs suddenly weak. “Why are you telling me this?” “Just reminding you. And…” She opened the drawer and took out a folder. “I know about Sophie.” Andrew fixated on the folder. She spread bank statements in front of him—ushering them out like cards at a casino. “These transfers: forty thousand, fifty, seventy. Monthly.” He said nothing. “And here’s your email printout. Did you really think I didn’t know your office password? I created it two years ago.” Andrew scanned the pages, growing pale. “Where did you get these?” “Does it matter?” she said, her hand just faintly trembling. “The point is, you funnelled money through her. Think the tax office would be interested?” He jumped up, almost yelling. “How dare you?! You’ve leeched off me all your life! Never earned a penny! Lived here like a hanger-on!” “Hanger-on?” Marina let out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich. The hanger-on who signed your loan agreements. The one who did all your accounts while you were ‘at meetings’. The one whose name is on this flat and every credit line.” “You’re threatening me?” “No,” Marina walked to the window, “I’m just laying out the facts. Since you seem to have forgotten the basics.” She turned. “In the last six months, I renewed my degree, did night courses—between panic attacks and insomnia. I got a job offer. Not fancy, but enough for me and Clara.” “Clara?!” he gasped. “Are you taking my daughter?!” “Have you even seen her this last month?” He said nothing. He genuinely couldn’t remember. Marina put a neurologist’s report on the table. “Chronic nervous exhaustion. Panic attacks. Prescribed environment change, therapy—removal from stress. See this line—‘prolonged exposure to trauma’. Know what that means for you?” “Marina—” “If I file for divorce, the court sides with me.” She laid down one more document. “And unless I sign, you can’t renew your business loan next week. Your pal Dave phoned—he said the bank needs documents. My signature, specifically.” Andrew sank back, ashen. “What do you want? Money?” Marina laughed—a brief, almost soundless giggle. “Money? Andrew, I want something simpler. I want you to finally admit that without me, there’d be no business. No flat. No fancy conference in Manchester.” She grabbed her handbag. “You’ve got until tonight to think. I’m staying with Elise and Clara. If you’re ready to talk properly, call. But don’t expect me to be that silent, suffering Marina ever again.” Six hours later, Andrew called. Marina was at Elise’s kitchen table, sipping peppermint tea, as if she’d surfaced from a swamp she’d been drowning in for years. “Hi,” she answered, her voice steady. “I need to see you.” “I’m listening.” “Not on the phone. Come home.” Marina smirked. “No, Andrew. If you want to talk, come here. Remember the address?” He arrived an hour later—tense, eyes wild, like a man cornered. Elise whisked Clara away. Marina and Andrew stayed in the kitchen. “You’re blackmailing me?” he barked, slamming the table. “No. Just explaining the reality.” “What reality?! You snooped, stole my files, spied on me!” “Do you honestly think attacking me is a smart strategy now?” she sighed. “After what I’ve shown you?” He knew she was right. “Listen,” Marina leaned in, “I’m not trying to ruin you. I’m not sending anything to the tax office or causing a scandal. I just want you to understand—without me, you really have nothing.” “You want a divorce?” his voice rasped. “What do you want?” Andrew looked away, silent for so long. “With Sophie, it meant nothing.” She lifted her hand. “No interruptions. I’ve known about Sophie for six months—about your arrangement, your fake trips. I said nothing. I thought: maybe he’ll change. Maybe this will pass.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Maybe I was just scared to admit our marriage died five years back. We were both just pretending.” “Marina—” “I’m done living as a footnote. As someone whose words mean nothing. You didn’t even notice I was dying beside you.” Andrew, fists clenched, sat white and silent. “You have a choice,” Marina continued. “We start over. No lies, no affairs. “Or you leave, and I take what’s mine.” “No,” Marina shook her head. “I’ll take only what’s rightfully mine. The flat. My share in the business. The loans in my name, you’ll repay yourself. And I’ll live my life.” She stood—conversation over. “Three days, Andrew. Think. When you’re ready, ring me. But know: the Marina you took for granted died at five o’clock yesterday morning.” A week later, Andrew showed up again, This time, without his fake confidence. Just sat, silent, at the same kitchen table. “Dave said—without your signature, the bank won’t renew the credit. The business will shut down.” Marina nodded. “I know.” “What do you want?” She looked him in the eye. “I want a divorce.” Andrew paled. “Are you serious?” “More than ever.” She poured herself tea, hands steady. “I’ll sign. I’ll extend the business loan. On one condition: we divorce, civilly. You buy out my share of the business. The flat stays with me. Clara lives with me.” “Marina—” “My mind’s made, Andrew.” She smiled. “You know the funniest part? For the first time in years, I slept through the night. No pills. No panic. Just sleep.” He was silent. “And now I understand. I’m not sick. I don’t need a doctor. I just needed to walk away from you, from a life where I was invisible.” She stood. “Your choice. Agree to my terms, and we part peacefully. Otherwise, I go to court with all the documents—and you’ll lose more than just business. Decide.” Andrew dropped his head. He realised—he’d lost. The woman he’d thought weak had proved the stronger one. “Fine,” he whispered. “I agree.” Three months later, the divorce was final. Marina took the flat and a respectable sum for her business share. Started her new job. Andrew kept the business and a new apartment. Along with a hollow sort of loneliness—especially in the evenings, with no one to talk to, no one to come home to. As for Sophie, she left a month later. Apparently, she was after comfort, not love. When Andrew was left footing every bill and could no longer keep her in style, that comfort disappeared. Marina heard all this from Dave. She smiled. And felt nothing. Not glee. Not pity. Just… nothing. So, maybe sometimes, isn’t it a good idea to be involved in your husband’s business? What do you think?

So what exactly has your constant moaning achieved? asked her husband. But she left him utterly gobsmacked.

Who else but a woman waking up at five in the morning, pressed by a tightness in her chest, would be pondering such things? Marina perched at the edge of the bed, gazing out over the quiet London street.

Her heart was doing its best impression of a dodgy jazz drummertwo beats, a pause, three beats, dead silence. Yesterday, the doctor had called it panic attacks and handed her a lovely orange referral slip for tests.

In the last eighteen years, Marina had gone from a sharp-suited career woman, fresh economics graduate, to well, what exactly? An optional extra to her husbands business empire? The self-made bookkeeper, muddling through endless paperwork and scribbling her name on things? Or maybe just the cleaner, squelching a mop round the kitchen because Jack had the magical ability not to see dust.

Youre up already? Jack, her husband, bumbled into the kitchen, face creased like a wrinkled quid, the very picture of early morning cheer. Didnt sleep again, did you?

She nodded silently, pouring his usual strong coffee and fetching his now-legendary breakfast yoghurta five-year commitment as steady as their mortgage.

By the way, he said over his mug, Im heading up to Manchester for three days. Meeting with a supplier. Big stuff.

Jack… she began.

She knew she shouldn’t say anything. She knew hed give her that lookthe one he reserved for when he decided she was fishing for sympathy he hadnt got in stock. But she said it anyway:

Please, not now. I really dont feel great. The doctor insists on these tests.

He froze, set his cup down, and let out the kind of sigh you hear from someone who’s heard it all before and is desperate to change the channel.

And what exactly do you think all your moaning has achieved, Marina? His voice was almost calm. Not annoyedjust plain bored. I need to work. I work! I cant spend every day listening to your attacks and how tough things are for you. Who isnt exhausted these days?

He was already packing his bagthe familiar routinesure that shed keep quiet, swallow the resentment, and blame herself, as usual, for picking a bad time.

But Marina didnt keep quiet. Not this time.

Jack, she got up. Slowly. Steadily. Whos name is the mortgage underdo you even remember?

He shot her a lopsided smirk. Does it matter? Probably both of us.

Nope. Just me.

It was like a thunderclap. She watched his face change.

What are you talking about?

I mean, when we bought this flat all those years ago, you had skeletons in your financial closetserious debts. No bank would have offered you a loan. Remember?

He said nothing.

So heres the deal: the mortgage is all in my name. Ditto the flat. And Im also your business loan co-signerthats right. Without my signature, you do nothing. No renewals, no expansions, nothing.

Jack slumped back into his seat like someone had taken his chair away.

Why are you telling me this?

Just a friendly reminder. And another thing She opened a drawer, pulled out a folder, and plonked it in front of him. I know about Chloe.

Jacks eyes locked on the file, frozen, like a man whos just realised he missed the last step and is about to fall.

Chloe, Marina said again, in a voice so calm it even surprised herself. Your friend Henrys bookkeeper. Lovely young womantwelve years younger than me, as it happens.

She opened the folder and produced the statements with a flourish, as if dealing cards at the Ritz.

These mystery transfers? Forty grand. Fifty. Seventy. Month after month.

He still said nothing.

And here, Marina distributed more papers, is the correspondence. You thought I didnt know the password to your work laptop? Jack, I made that password up for you when you forgot the old one three years ago.

Jack grabbed the papers, eyes skimming, going pale as the tiles on the bathroom wall.

Where did you get this?

Does it matter? she replied, pouring herself a glass of waterher hand only trembling a touch. Heres whats importantyou funnelled money to her. Want to see if the tax office would be interested?

Jack shot to his feet, voice cracking into a shout.

What do you think youre playing at? Who are you anyway? Youve been freeloading off me all your life! Never earned a thing! Just sponging off me at home like some overstaying guest!

Overstaying guest? Marina snorted. Bitterly, but with a certain broken humour. Thats rich. The guest who signed off your bank loans? The guest who kept your books while you were off on those endless meetings? The guest who the flats actually registered to? The one responsible for all your little debts?

You threatening me?

No, Marina said, moving to the window, Im just laying out the facts. Because apparently youve forgotten some pretty basic stuff.

She turned around.

In the last six months, Ive had my degree re-certified. Taken professional development coursesat night, in between panic attacks and all-nighters. Got a job offer. Not glamorous, but itll cover rentfor myself and Sophie.

Sophie? He jerked upwards. Youre taking our daughter?

Whens the last time you even saw her, Jack? She stepped closer. No, honestly. Do you remember your last proper conversation with her?

Jack was silentbecause, of course, he didnt.

Marina picked up one more paper.

Neurologists letter. Chronic nervous exhaustion. Panic attacks. Recommended: a change of scenery, therapy, removing distressing factors. See that bitextended duration in a stressful situation? Any idea what could happen if I file for divorce right now?

Marina

Well, the court would take my side.

She placed the final page.

And dont forgetyou need my signature for that precious business loan extension. Henry called yesterday. Banks on your back. They want my paperwork.

Jack collapsed into his chair, looking as limp as yesterdays lettuce.

What do you want? Came his croaky voice. Money?

Marina laughed. Short and nearly silent.

Money? Jack, all I want is some basic respect. I want you to acknowledgejust oncethat without me you wouldnt have a business, a flat, or that sodding business trip youre dying to go on.

She grabbed her bag.

Youve got till this evening. Im off to stay at Olivias with Sophie. Think it through. And when youre ready to have an adult conversation, ring me. Just dont expect the old Marina, who kept her mouth shut and took it all.

Jack rang six hours later.

Marina was at Olivias kitchen table, sipping peppermint tea, feeling oddlike shed just scrambled out of some swamp, wiping her face and suddenly remembering how easy it is to breathe.

Hello? she answered, steady as stone.

I need to talk to you.

Im listening.

Not on the phone. Pause. Come home.

She smiled dryly. No, Jack. If you want to talk, you come here. You remember the address?

He showed up an hour later, fuming, pent-up, looking like a man cornered by angry dogs and itching to escape.

Olivia, reading the mood, took Sophie off to play, leaving Marina and Jack alone in the kitchen.

What do you think youre doing? he banged his fist on the table, Blackmailing me?

No. Just stating facts.

What facts? You rifled through my things! You spied on me! You went through my laptop!

Jack, she sighed, you honestly think the best move right now is to go on the attack? After all Ive just shown you?

He stopped, because she was right.

Listen carefully, Marina leaned in, Im not planning to ruin you, or tip off the tax office, or star in some public meltdown. I just want you to understandwithout me, you have nothing.

You want a divorce? his voice barely a whisper.

What about you?

Jack looked down. Long silence. At last, a long breath:

With Chloe, it meant nothing.

Dont interrupt, Marina raised a hand. Ive known about Chloe for half a year. I knew about the missing cash, knew you saw her on those half-made-up business trips. I knewand I kept quiet. I hoped maybe itd stop. Maybe youd come to your senses.

She chuckledbitterly.

Or maybe I was just scared to admit our marriage died five years ago. And we both pretended everything was fine.

Marina…

I cant keep living as your accessory. You devalue every word I say, dismiss everything I ask. You dont even notice that Im falling to pieces with panic attacks and insomnia.

Jack sat there, white-knuckled.

Youve got a choice, Marina continued. We can see if we can start over. Without lies, without affairs.

Or youll leave and take everything.

No, she shook her head. Ill take only whats mine. The flat. My business share. The debts in my nameyou can pay those yourself. And Ill live my own life.

She stood, signalling the end.

Three days. Thats all. When youre ready to talk, call. Just remember: the old Marinawho put up with everythingthat version died at five this morning.

A week later, Jack came round again.

But this time, all the usual bravado was gone. He simply sat at Olivias kitchen table in silence.

Henry said the bank wont extend the loan without your signature, he managed. Buisness will grind to a halt.

Marina nodded. I know.

What do you want?

She looked him right in the eyes.

I want a divorce.

Jack went pale.

Youre serious?

More than ever. She poured her tea, hands steady as anything. Ill sign at the bank. The loan is renewed. But only if we do this properlydivorce, civilised, no drama. You buy my share of the business. The flat stays with me. Sophie stays with me.

Marina

Ive made up my mind, Jack. She smiled gently. Know what? Last night I slept without pills for the first time in years. No panic, no waking up.

He said nothing.

And now I knowIm not unwell. I dont need treatment. I just needed to leave you and a life where I didnt matter.

Marina stood.

Your choice: agree to my terms and we split like grownups. Or I file in court, provide every document, and you wont just lose the business. Decide.

Jack bowed his head. Finally realising hed lostfor good. The woman hed thought weak was stronger than hed ever imagined.

All right, he whispered, deal.

Three months later, the divorce was final.

Marina got the flat and a solid sum for her business share. She started her new job.

Jack held on to his business and snagged a new flat. But he was left with an unexpected emptinessespecially at night, coming home to no one to hear how his day had gone. No one to just be there.

Chloe, incidentally, departed a month after the split. She hadnt been looking for love, just comfortand realised Jack, now responsible for every penny and unable to keep her in cushiony style, was less appealing.

Marina heard about it from Henry. She smiled. Didnt feel anythingnot even a glimmer of triumph, not a drop of pity.

Just nothing.

Whod have thought taking part in your husbands business could be both a blessing and a curse, eh?