Ashamed to Take You to the Banquet – Denis Barely Looked Up from His Phone. – Normal People Will Be There. Twelve Years of Marriage, Two Kids, and Now He’s Embarrassed. — I’ll Wear the Black Dress. The One You Bought Me. — It’s Not About the Dress, – He Finally Looked at Her. – It’s You. You’ve Let Yourself Go. Hair, Face… You Just Aren’t the Same. Vadim and His Wife Will Be There – She’s a Stylist. You Get It. — Then I Won’t Go. — Smart Choice. I’ll Say You’ve Got a Temperature. He Headed for the Shower, Leaving Nadia Still Standing in the Kitchen. Kids Sleeping Next Door, Bills, Mortgage, School Meetings. She’d Disappeared Into This Life, and Now Her Husband Was Ashamed of Her. ‘Has He Completely Lost It?’ – Her Friend Helen the Hairdresser Looked at Nadia Like She’d Announced the End of the World. ‘Ashamed to Take His Wife to a Banquet? Who Does He Think He Is?’ ‘Warehouse Manager. Got a Promotion.’ ‘Now His Wife’s Not Good Enough?’ Helen Slammed the Kettle On. – ‘Remember What You Did Before the Kids?’ ‘I Was a Teacher.’ ‘Not Work – I Mean Your Beaded Jewellery. I Still Have the Blue Stone Necklace. People Always Ask About It.’ Nadia Remembered. Jewellery on Evenings, Back When Denis Still Noticed Her. ‘That Was Ages Ago.’ ‘If You Did It Before, You Can Again. When’s the Banquet?’ ‘Saturday.’ ‘Perfect. Tomorrow Come See Me – I’ll Do Your Hair and Makeup. We’ll Call Olivia – She Has Dresses. Get Out Your Jewellery.’ ‘But He Said—’ ‘Forget What He Said. You’re Going. He’ll Be Shaking in His Boots.’ Olivia Brought a Plum Dress with Bare Shoulders. They Spent Ages Fitting It. ‘You’ll Need Special Jewellery with This Colour,’ Olivia Spun Around. ‘No Silver, No Gold.’ Nadia Opened an Old Box. There It Was – a Handmade Necklace and Earrings in Blue Goldstone, Created Years Ago for an Occasion That Never Happened. ‘This Is a Masterpiece,’ Olivia Whispered. ‘You Did This?’ ‘I Did.’ Helen Styled Loose Waves and Simple, Elegant Makeup. Nadia Dressed, Fastened Her Jewellery, and Felt the Stones on Her Neck – Cool and Significant. ‘Go Look,’ Olivia Nudged Her. Nadia Saw Not the Woman of Twelve Years Doing Floors and Soups – But Herself. The Woman She’d Been. At the Riverside Restaurant, Late As Intended, Conversations Fell Silent. Denis by the Bar Laughed—until He Saw Her. His Face Froze. She Walked Past and Sat at the Far Table, Back Straight, Hands Calm in Her Lap. ‘Excuse Me, Is This Seat Taken?’ A Man in His Mid-Forties, Grey Suit, Intelligent Eyes. ‘It’s Free.’ ‘Owen. Partner of Vadim in Bakeries. And You?’ ‘Nadia. Warehouse Manager’s Wife.’ He Looked from Her Face to Her Jewellery. ‘Goldstone? Handmade, Surely. My Mother Collected Stones – Rare Piece.’ ‘I Made It.’ ‘Really?’ Owen Leaned Closer. ‘That’s Quality. Do You Sell Them?’ ‘No. I’m…a Housewife.’ ‘Strange. With Hands Like That, You’re Wasted at Home.’ He Spent the Evening with Her – Talking Stones, Creativity, and Losing Ourselves in Daily Routines. Dancing, Sparkling Drinks, Laughter. Nadia Noticed Denis Watching from Across the Room, Face Darkening. As She Left, Owen Walked Her to the Car. ‘If You Ever Get Back to Jewellery-Making – Call Me,’ Handing Over His Card. ‘I Know People Who Value Work Like Yours.’ At Home, Denis Lasted Five Minutes. ‘What Did You Think You Were Doing? The Whole Evening with Owen! Everyone Noticed. My Wife Throwing Herself at Another Man!’ ‘I Wasn’t Throwing. I Was Talking.’ ‘Talking! You Danced Three Times! Vadim Asked What Was Going On. I Was So Ashamed!’ ‘You’re Always Ashamed,’ Nadia Kicked off Her Shoes. ‘Ashamed to Take Me Out, Ashamed When People Look at Me. What Are You Never Ashamed Of?’ ‘Shut Up! You Think Throwing on a Dress Makes You Someone? You’re Nothing. A Housewife on My Wages, Pretending to Be a Princess.’ Once, She’d Have Cried. Gone to Bed. But Something Snapped, or Slotted Into Place. ‘Weak Men Fear Strong Women,’ She Said Quietly. ‘You’re Insecure, Denis. Scared I’ll See How Small You Are.’ ‘Get Out.’ ‘I’m Filing for Divorce.’ He Was Silent. For the First Time, His Eyes Held Confusion, Not Anger. ‘Where Will You Go with Two Kids? You Can’t Live on Beads.’ ‘I’ll Manage.’ In the Morning, She Rang Owen. He Didn’t Rush. They Met in Cafés, Discussing Business. He Knew a Gallery Owner. People Wanted Real Handcrafted Pieces. ‘You’re Talented, Nadia. Talent and Taste Are Rare.’ She Worked Nights. Goldstone, Jasper, Carnelian. Owen Took Her Pieces to the Gallery – They Sold Out. Orders Kept Coming. ‘Does Denis Know?’ ‘He Barely Speaks to Me.’ ‘And the Divorce?’ ‘Found a Lawyer. It’s Moving Forward.’ Owen Helped Quietly. Gave Contacts. Helped Her Find a Flat. When Nadia Packed Her Bags, Denis Laughed at the Door. ‘You’ll Be Back in a Week – Begging.’ She Closed the Case and Walked Out. Six Months. Two Bedrooms on the Edge of Town, Kids, Work. Gallery Offered Her an Exhibition. Nadia Started a Social Media Page for Her Designs – Followers Grew. Owen Visited, Brought Books for the Kids, Checked In. Gently, Never Pushing. ‘Mum, Do You Like Him?’ Svetlana Asked One Night. ‘I Do.’ ‘We Like Him Too. He Doesn’t Shout.’ A Year Later, Owen Proposed. No Big Kneeling, No Roses – Just over Dinner. ‘I Want the Three of You to Be with Me.’ Nadia Was Ready. Two Years Passed. Denis, Now a Labourer After Vadim Sacked Him for How He’d Treated Nadia, Walked the Shopping Center in a Worn Jacket, Burdened by Debt and Loneliness. He Saw Them Outside a Jewellery Store – Nadia in a Pale Coat, Hair Styled, Blue Goldstone at Her Neck. Owen Held Her Hand. The Kids Laughed. Denis Watched as They Got Into Their Car—Owen Opened Nadia’s Door. She Smiled. Then Denis Looked at His Own Reflection—Grey Face, Empty Eyes. He Had Lost a Queen. And She’d Learned to Live Without Him. That Was His Greatest Punishment: Realising Too Late What He’d Had… Thank you, dear readers, for your thoughtful comments and likes!

Im embarrassed to take you to the dinner, Simon muttered, eyes fixed on his phone. Therell be people there. Proper people.

Hazel stood by the fridge, clutching a carton of milk. Twelve years married. Two children. And now, apparently, she was an embarrassment.

Ill wear the black dress, she saidthe one hed bought her.

Its not the dress, he finally glanced up. Its you. Youve let yourself go. Hair, face youre just, I dont know. Anyway, Adam will be there with his wife. Shes a stylist. And you well, you get the picture.

Hazel just nodded. Then I wont go.

Good. Ill say youve come down with something. No one will question it.

He went off to shower while Hazel remained in the kitchen. In the next room, the children slept. Oliver was ten, Grace eight. Mortgages, bills, school meetings. Shed poured her whole self into this house, and now her husband was ashamed of her.

Has he gone completely mad? asked Sarah, her friend and hairdresser, looking at her like shed just dropped news of a world crisis.

Hes embarrassed to bring his own wife to a dinner? Who does he even think he is?

He got a promotion. Hes warehouse manager now.

And now his wifes not good enough? Sarah slammed the kettle on and filled it angrily. Listen to me. Do you remember what you used to do before the kids?

I taught at school.

Not the job. The jewellery. The beaded ones. I still have that necklace with the blue stone. People are always asking where I got it from.

Hazel remembered. Shed made jewellery in the evenings, back when Simon used to look at her with real interest.

That was ages ago.

So? You can do it again. Sarah scooted closer. Whens this dinner?

Saturday.

Perfect. Tomorrow you come to mine. Ill do your hair and makeup. We’ll call Ruthshes bound to have dresses. And youll sort the jewellery.

Sarah, he said

Forget what he said! Youre going to that dinner. Youll waltz in and hell practically faint.

Ruth brought over a deep plum gown, long and elegant with an off-the-shoulder cut. They spent an hour pinning and adjusting.

Youll need the right jewellery with this colour, Ruth said, circling her. Not silver. Not gold either.

Hazel dug out her old jewellery box. At the bottom, wrapped safely, lay a setnecklace and earringsshed made from blue aventurine eight years ago, waiting for the right occasion.

My goodness, thats a masterpiece, Ruth breathed. Did you really make it?

I did.

Sarah styled Hazels hair in soft waves and gave her subtle but striking makeup. She slipped into the dress, fastened the jewellery around her neck. The stones were cool and heavy.

Go have a look, Ruth said, nudging her toward the mirror.

Hazel barely recognised the woman looking back: not the one whod scrubbed floors and made casseroles for twelve years, but herselfthe woman she used to be.

The riverside restaurant was bathed in posh clothes, tuxedos, evening dresses, and soft jazz. Hazel arrived fashionably late as planned. The chatter faded for a moment as she walked in.

Simon stood by the bar, laughing at someones joke. He spotted her and his face froze. She didnt look at him, sailing past to sit at a table in the far corner, posture straight, hands resting calmly.

Excuse me, is this seat free?

A man, about forty-five, in a grey suit and kindly eyes.

It is.

Oscar. Im Adams business partner. We run bakeries together. And you are…?

Hazel. The warehouse managers wife.

He noticed her jewellery. Aventurine, is it? Handmade, I can tell. My mum used to collect gemstones. Thats pretty rare.

I made it myself.

Really? Oscar leaned in, admiring her work. This is craftsman level stuff. Do you sell them?

No. Im just… a housewife.

Funny. Someone with hands like yours shouldnt be stuck at home.

He stayed with her much of the evening. They spoke of gemstones, creativity, how people lose themselves in routines.

Oscar offered to dance, brought her sparkling wine, made her laugh. Hazel saw Simon glaring from across the room, his scowl deepening by the minute.

Oscar walked her to her car at the end of the night.

Hazel, if you ever want to return to jewellery makingcall me, he said, handing over a business card. I know people whod be interested. Genuinely interested.

She took the card and nodded.

Back home, Simon barely lasted five minutes before starting.

What on earth did you think you were doing? You spent the evening with that Oscar bloke! Everyone saw it! My wife draping herself over some stranger!

I wasnt draping myself over anyone. We talked.

Oh, you talked! You danced with him three times! Three! Adam asked me what was going on. I was mortified!

Youre always ashamed, Hazel replied, slipping off her shoes and leaving them by the door. Ashamed to take me out, ashamed when people look at me. Is there anything youre not ashamed of?

Shut up. You think putting on a fancy dress makes you someone? Youre nobody. A housewife. Living off me, using my money, and now youre swanning about pretending youre some sort of princess.

She might once have cried, heading to bed in silence, but something inside her felt different now. Or maybe it had simply snapped into place.

Weak men fear strong women, she said quietly, almost calmly. Youre insecure, Simon. Youre scared Ill realise just how small you really are.

Get out.

I want a divorce.

He fell silent. For the first time, his eyes showed confusion rather than anger.

Whatll you do, run off with two kids? You cant survive selling trinkets.

Ill manage.

The next morning, Hazel found Oscar’s card and dialled his number.

Oscar wasnt pushy. They met in cafés, discussing plans. He told her about a friend who ran a gallery for unique pieces. Handmade jewellery, he said, was finally being appreciated again in England.

Youre talented, Hazel. Its rare to have talent and taste.

Nights, she worked on commissions: aventurine, jasper, carnelian. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Oscar took the pieces to the gallery. By weeks end, everything was sold. More orders rolled in.

Does Simon know?

He doesnt speak to me these days.

And the divorce?

Ive found a solicitor. Were starting the papers.

Oscar helped. No drama, no grand gesturesjust contacts, advice, help finding a place to rent. When Hazel packed her suitcase, Simon stood in the doorway, sneering.

Youll be back in a week. On your knees.

She zipped up her case and walked out, saying nothing.

Six months. A small flat on the edge of town, two kids, endless work. Commissions were constantso much that the gallery proposed an exhibition. Hazel even started a page online, posting photos. The number of followers grew quickly.

Oscar visited often, bringing books for Oliver and Grace, staying in touch yet never intrusive, always supportive.

Mum, do you like him? Grace asked one evening.

I do.

We do, too. He doesnt shout.

A year later, Oscar proposed. No dramatic kneeling, no roses. Just over dinner, he said, Id like all three of you with me. Would you?

Hazel was ready.

Two years passed. Simon, sacked after Adam discovered the truth about his behaviour, worked as a porter now. Rented room, constant debt, alone.

He saw them by the jewellers window one Saturday.

Hazel, in a pale coat, hair neatly done, that same blue aventurine at her neck. Oscar, hand in hers. Oliver and Grace laughing, full of stories.

Simon stopped at the shopfront, watching them as they got into the car. He watched Oscar open the door for Hazel, saw her smile.

Then he caught his own reflectionscruffy jacket, grey face, empty eyes.

Hed lost his queen. And she, finally, had learned to live without him.

That was his greatest punishmentrealising, far too late, what hed truly had.

Thank you, dear readers, for your thoughtful comments and all your support.