Marina was now certain that women who divorced their husbands young and lived without them were far happier. So she believed, speaking from her own tower of experience.
“Perhaps some might disagree,” she said to her friend Grace, “but that’s what I think now.”
“Maybe,” Grace answered hesitantly, “but every woman has her own path. It’s not right to speak for them all. Some are unhappy in their first marriage but find happiness in their second—or even their third.”
“I won’t argue,” Marina replied, “but I stand by what I said. In my case, I suffered such stress—and now, with old age ahead, he trampled over my feelings. I can’t trust anyone now.”
Marina, her husband Edward, his mother—who lived on the same floor—and their fourteen-year-old son Thomas had celebrated the New Year at home. It had been pleasant enough: Marina had set the table the evening before, her mother-in-law helped, and they welcomed midnight together as a family. On the first of January, they woke late, having stayed up past midnight with fireworks crackling outside. Edward’s mother had returned to her flat earlier.
But the year took a sharp, unexpected turn for Marina. That afternoon, her husband vanished. He climbed into his car and drove off without a word to anyone. Simply disappeared.
By nightfall, she lay awake, sick with worry. Dark thoughts swarmed.
“What if Edward’s had an accident?” Her head throbbed from the strain.
She waited, hoping for a call, some news—but silence. His phone was switched off. She didn’t sleep, and by morning, her head ached, her blood pressure high. The kettle boiled. Then, as Thomas still slept, a message flashed on her phone:
“Don’t look for me. I’ve left you.”
Her hands shook, her heart stuttered. What now?
“Show his mother,” she thought, then hesitated. “No, why upset her?” But then—
“Or is she part of this?” Resolute, she marched next door and knocked.
“Look what your son sent me,” she said bitterly.
“Marina, that can’t be. He never said a word! Didn’t you notice anything?” His mother was genuinely stunned.
“I thought you might be in on it.”
“Marina! How could I? If I’d known, I’d have given him a piece of my mind. But now—” Her hands trembled too. “Don’t think I’d ever side with him after this. That—” She spat an unkind word.
Marina saw she’d known nothing—but at least Edward was alive. Her imagination had run wild.
She couldn’t eat, crushed by the betrayal. He’d slunk off like a coward, never daring to say what was wrong.
“I’ll call again. Maybe this time he’ll answer.” She dialed—and a woman picked up.
“Who is this?” Marina asked.
“His wife,” came the reply. “And you?”
Marina lied smoothly. “I’m a friend’s wife. I need to speak to him about my husband. Could you give me your address?”
She memorized it. After feeding Thomas, she set out.
“Mum, has Dad come back?” Thomas asked. “Where is he?”
“No, love. I don’t know.” She avoided his eyes. He was a teenager—who knew what he’d do in anger?
“Grace, happy New Year,” she said when her friend answered. “Edward’s left me.”
Grace was speechless. “Edward? You’re joking!”
“I wish I were. He’s with another woman. I’m going to see her—them—today.”
“Should I come with you?”
“No. I’ll handle it.”
“Call me when you’re back. I’ll come straight over.”
The bus took her to a quiet neighbourhood of terraced houses. She found the address, hesitated in the yard, then pushed the unlocked door open.
Edward and the woman were at the table, eating.
He saw her first, bolting up, stunned silent.
“Who’s this?” the woman asked.
Edward said nothing. Marina answered.
“I’m his lawful wife. We have a son. And you are?”
The woman paled.
“Who invited you?” Edward roared. “Get out!”
The woman turned to him. “You said she died two years ago. You lied to me?”
Marina watched as he groveled, voice pleading.
“I was afraid to lose you, Veronica. I meant to tell you—when the time was right.”
Marina stared, disgusted.
“How could you say that about me? If you loved her, you should have divorced me first. But telling her I was dead? That’s vile. You may as well have buried me alive.”
She turned to Veronica. “How long has this been going on?”
“A year. We love each other.”
Marina laughed bitterly. “A year? And he never moved in?”
“He said his mother was ill, he couldn’t leave her. Then she died, so—”
Marina’s laugh turned sharp. “Oh, he’s buried us all, then! I’m very much alive, and so’s his mother—who only learned this morning her son’s run off. Well, I won’t bury you two. Live happily. I’ll file for divorce myself.”
She left, head high. Let them untangle their mess.
At home, drained, she called Grace, who arrived within minutes.
“You look awful,” Grace murmured.
“You should’ve seen him. He told her I’d been dead two years. Buried his mother, too, in the story. Who does that?”
Grace sat stunned. “Good Lord. Edward?”
The divorce came quickly. Edward magnanimously “left” her the flat, taking only the car.
Marina told his mother, “Your son buried us both. Left me the flat as if I married him for property, not years of my life.” His mother, too, was speechless.
She remembered Edward’s surgery a year back, how she’d nursed him day and night. And soon after, he’d begun this affair.
“He forgot I fed him with a spoon. Said I was dead. The man’s clearly not right in the head. If he wanted to leave, he should’ve done it properly. But lies? Cowardice? No, Edward’s nothing but a traitor.”
She told Thomas the truth, but he surprised her.
“Mum, don’t fret. I understand. Let him go. We’ve got each other. We’ll manage.” He hugged her. “We’ll be alright.”
“My grown-up boy,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.
So Marina and Thomas carried on. His grandmother, next door, still treated Marina like family, but Edward never called, never visited.
As if he’d truly buried them all.