Alex, please sit with Charlie for at least a couple of hours, Emily frowned, the irritation sharp in her voice. I have to see a doctor.
I cant, Alex snapped, springing up from the sofa. Im meeting the lads. Ive got a shift at the pub later.
Emily, Im serious. My headaches wont stop and my back feels like its been twisted by a kettle. Since the birth theres been a parade of aches
Do you want me to repeat that? Alex glared, his temper flaring. No, I cant. Reschedule it for another day. Ive already made plans.
He was already pulling on his coat, rummaging through pockets.
I cant move the appointment. The NHS booking was made three weeks in advance.
Fine, then youll have to wait three more weeks, Alex shrugged as if it were a trivial inconvenience. Nothing catastrophic is going to happen to you.
The front door slammed. From the nursery a soft whimper roseCharlie had woken again. Emily exhaled wearily, thumbed the numbers on her phone, and waited as the clinics holdmusica loop of cheerful chimesfilled the silence. Finally she reached a human voice.
Good afternoon, I need to cancel todays appointment
She slumped onto the sofa. Postnatal health had become a lottery. One moment her spine felt knotted, refusing to straighten; the next her skull seemed to crack under an invisible hammer. Doctors waved their hands, urging scans, but scans required time, and someone had to look after the baby.
Alex didnt care. The past two years felt as if theyd been swapped for someone elses script.
During Emilys pregnancy he had literally carried her in his arms. He lugged heavy shopping bags, cooked, even gave foot massages before bedtime. He called her the most beautiful woman on earth, proclaimed endless happiness. Emily drank every word, convinced shed hit the marital jackpot.
Then Charlie arrived. Everything shattered to shards.
The endless cries, the mountain of nappy changes, sleepless nights peeled away whatever mask Alex wore, revealing a very different man. He shouted at Emily when the flat wasnt spotless, bellowed at Charlie when the boy wailed in the night, hurled dishes, slammed doors, fled to his mates and drifted back after midnight.
Look at yourself! he roared, pointing a finger at her. Do you even recognise the woman in the mirror? Wheres my pretty wife gone? Youve become a…
Emily stared back, seeing dark circles under her eyes, hair in a wild tangle, a stained old Tshirt from baby formula. Extra pounds clung stubbornly despite subsisting on two meals a day. Yet she could never find a moment for herself while Charlie was feverish, teething, or clutching his stomach.
You only think about the child. Hes the centre of your universe, Alex tossed, tightening his boots. Do you even need me?
She was silent, unsure what to answer. Yes, she thought of Charlie constantlyhow could she not? He was her son.
Exhaustion settled like a heavy blanket. She reached that point where she just wanted to lie down and never get up. Four walls closed in around a screaming infant and a husband who saw himself as the sole victim.
She had no job prospects either. The marketing agency where she once worked had folded; the owner fled with debts, the office locked up, staff dismissed. Emily was on maternity leave, so the bust didnt hit her directly, but Charlie would soon be three, and a threeyear gap on a résumé plus a toddler were not attractive to recruiters.
Still, she dreamed of a future where Charlie went to nursery, she stepped onto the Tube, rode to an office, talked to grownups instead of a toddler glued to cartoons. She wanted to remember who she had been before motherhood.
For Charlies third birthday, Emily cobbled together a modest celebration. The boy ran around in a brandnew romper, cheeks flushed with delight.
Alex was nowhere to be seen.
Emily, wheres Alex? asked Margaret Turner, his mother, glancing about as if expecting him to materialise behind a curtain.
I dont know, Emily replied, forcing a smile. Hes probably running late.
How can he be late? interjected Henry Turner, his father, frowning. Its his sons birthday!
Emily shrugged. She had called Alex a dozen times, texted, but received no reply.
The guests exchanged uneasy looks. Emilys mother, Helen Clarke, squeezed her hand under the tablea silent support that changed nothing.
The party dragged on, strained. Charlie giggled, the adults pretended everything was fine. Emily sliced cake, poured tea, smiled at the guests, while something inside her cracked into tiny shards that could never be reassembled.
When night fell, the guests drifted out. Charlie fell asleep instantly, never waiting to be changed. Emily tucked him into his cot, smoothed the blanket, and returned to the living room, where chaos reigned: dirty dishes, torn packaging, deflated balloons.
She began cleaning mechanically, absentmindedly stacking plates, wiping the table.
A click of a key in the lock made her freeze. She glanced at the clockmidnight. She peered down the hallway.
Alex stood in the doorway, swaying, eyes bloodshot, shirt crumpled, a cloud of cheap perfume clinging to him, a vivid red lipstick smear on his cheek.
He froze when he saw her.
Emily, it isnt what you think, his voice cracked, hoarse. I had a whisky hit me in the head. I was… possessed. Once. I swear it wont happen again!
Emily exhaled slowly, a chill settling over her as if ice had seeped into her bones.
Where have you been? she whispered.
I was out with the lads. We went to a bar, there were some girls, and one
It was my sons birthday, she cut in. You were with some girl when Charlie turned three!
Emily, please I didnt mean to! It just… happened!
Just happened? Emilys voice quivered. Youre a traitor, a liar. I trusted you completely. We have a family, a child! I never imagined youd stoop to cheating!
Youre the one at fault! Alex exploded. Look at yourself! There are gorgeous women everywhere and I come home to see you! Of course I get distracted! Im a young man I need love!
Emily turned and fled to the nursery. Alex called after her, but she didnt look back. She shut the door, lay on the narrow cot beside Charlie, staring into the darkness.
At dawn she packed her thingsher own and the boys. Alex tried to grab her arm, pleading for forgiveness, a second chance. She refused, called a cab, loaded the suitcases, and drove to her mothers house.
The first weeks were rough. Charlie didnt understand why they now lived with Grandma, he cried, called for his dad. Emily held him, kissed his crown, whispered that everything would be alright, though she didnt believe it herself.
Gradually life steadied. Helen helped with Charlie while Emily hunted for work. After a month she landed a position at a local firm modest pay, reasonable boss. The divorce was finalized; Alex didnt contest, only asked for regular visits with his son. Emily agreed. Charlie adored his father.
Months later she moved into a onebed flat her own little haven. She furnished it sparingly; it became their home.
Alex began dropping by. At first rarely, then more often fixing a leaky tap, assembling a bookshelf, walking Charlie. Emily permitted it, not for herself but for the boy. Charlie laughed, clung to his dad, and Emily could not deny his joy.
Six months after the divorce Alex remarried. Emily saw him by chance in a shopping centre, arminarm with a sleek, stylish woman long hair, perfect makeup, a short dress.
He bragged to anyone who would listen about his new wife.
Vickys a proper housewife, he boasted. The house is spotless, dinners always ready. She looks like a model.
Emily nodded, her anger smouldering beneath a calm façade. Even after the split, Alex managed to prick her.
Then an idea sparked. She would get her revenge petty, sly, but just.
She began calling Alex constantly, any excuse would do.
Alex, Charlie wants to go to the park, can you swing by?
Alex, the kitchen tap is leaking, could you fix it?
Alex, Charlie misses you, when can you come over?
Each time Alex showed up, and the visits turned into bonding moments. He talked, sipped tea, laughed with Charlie. Their chats stretched for an hour or two. Emily fed him stories about Charlies adventures at nursery, asked questions, and Alex answered eagerly, as if starved for interaction.
Soon Vickys irritated voice pierced the air.
Alex, are you still chatting with her? Stop it already!
Alex brushed her off, but Emily heard the tension and felt a strange relief.
Months later, Alex turned up one evening unannounced. Emily opened the door to find his face crumpled, hair wild.
Were divorcing, he blurted, stepping inside.
What? Emily shut the door, leaning against it.
Vicky left. She couldnt take it.
Couldnt take what?
Us. Our connection.
Emily smirked, coldly amused.
What connection, Alex?
Emily, you know what I mean. We spend so much time together. I thought
What? That wed get back together? she crossed her arms. No, Alex. Im already seeing someone else. Im happy.
Alexs face twisted.
What? Who?
It doesnt matter. It matters that its not you.
You thought Id wait for you? she laughed. Seriously?
Youll still feed my alimony to some other blokes cat, wont you? You used me! I helped you, like a dog, and you
I never promised anything, Emily said calmly. You came crawling back like a stray. I dont need you. I cant even afford to keep a cat on your alimony, let alone a man.
Alex stammered, his mouth opening.
What? he demanded.
Nothing, she replied, stepping to the door and flinging it wide. Go, Alex. Dont show up without warning again.
Youre not a woman! he shouted, grabbing his coat, fleeing. You petty, vengeful serpent!
Maybe, Emily shrugged. But you made me that way.
The door slammed. Emily leaned against it, closed her eyes. Inside there was no triumph, no relief only a hollow echo.
She knew shed acted harshly, but Alex had once crushed her dignity, her faith, her love. She had simply returned the blow.
She slipped into Charlies room. He lay asleep, arms outstretched. She sat beside him, stroked his hair, and the chapter closed forever. She would still see Alex for Charlies sake, but now she would watch him from a distance, satisfied that she had finally turned the tables.
