Failed the Assessment

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 8 minViews 2

Listen, its a bit awkward to admit, Daniel said, a guilty grin tugging at his lips while he drummed his fingers on the table. I left my wallet at home, all the cards are in there. Could you cover the bill? Im really sorry

Evelyn let out a breath of surprise, reached for her handbag, and glanced at the total six hundred pounds for a dinner for two. Not a trivial sum, but nothing shed panic over; shed been earning enough for a while now.

Sure, no problem, she replied.

The waiter brought over the card terminal, and Evelyn slipped her card in. The screen flashed green, confirming the payment. Daniel gave a grateful nod and helped her to her feet, steadying her by the elbow.

Outside the cold wind was biting, slithering right through to the bone. Evelyn pulled her scarf a little tighter. Daniel walked beside her, silent, as if sorting through thoughts. He stopped by a streetlamp and turned to her.

Honestly, I need to tell you something, he began, his voice taking on an odd tone. The wallet was actually with me the whole time. So were the cards.

Evelyn froze, a shiver crawling up her legs like a nasty snake.

What do you mean?

It was a test, Daniel said, pulling a sleek black leather wallet from his jacket pocket and twirling it. I wanted to make sure you werent with me for the money. You get it? I needed to see youre not materialistic, that youre independent.

Evelyn exhaled slowly. Inside her chest tightened into a knot. A laugh got stuck somewhere between her throat and chest, but she forced a smile and relaxed her face.

Im glad I passed your little test, she murmured as gently as she could.

Daniel laughed, a breath of relief, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Evelyn pressed her face into his back, hoping he wouldnt see the tension in her cheekbones. Inside, everything felt upsidedown humiliating, petty. She was a grown woman, and he was treating her like a schoolgirl under interrogation.

The weeks that followed slipped by in their usual rhythm. Then Daniel popped the question. Everything was romantic, beautiful, and Evelyn said yes.

Wedding prep kicked off almost immediately. She picked a creamcoloured gown with lace sleeves from a boutique in Chelsea. They booked a restaurant for forty guests and mailed out the invitations.

Daniels mum, Gertrude, popped over every weekend, gushing about her son as if she were hawking a market stall.

Dannys such a responsible lad, she chirped, pouring tea into delicate, almost translucent cups. Hes always helpful, never forgets his mum. Evelyn, be glad he chose you.

Evelyn nodded and smiled, though Gertrudes chatter slipped past her without sticking. She learned to tune out whenever the future motherinlaw launched into one of her monologues.

Two weeks before the big day Daniel suggested Evelyn move in with him a brandnew flat on the fifteenth floor of a riverside development, panoramic windows overlooking the Thames. She agreed, even though a tiny voice inside resisted. She started packing, boxes piling up in her cosy onebedroom flat.

On moving day Evelyn lugged the first box, filled with decorative cushions and photo frames. Daniel met her at the lift and helped haul the load.

The new place smelled of fresh paint and brandnew furniture. Evelyn set the box down in the hallway, straightened up, rubbing her sore lower back.

Daniel took her hand, tugged her toward the balcony.

Come on, Ill show you the view.

They stepped onto the narrow balcony. The wind teased Evelyns hair, and she squinted against the bright sun. Below, the river glittered, reflecting the sky. London stretched out to the horizon.

Hand me your phone, I want a picture of you with this backdrop, Daniel said.

She fished a black smartphone out of her jeans pocket and handed it over. Daniel looked at the screen, then, without warning, spun around and tossed the phone over the balcony rail.

Evelyn froze. Time seemed to pause. She stared down at the tiny dot disappearing into the shrubbery by the entrance. A cold, dead calm settled inside her.

What now, love? Daniel grinned, arms crossed over his chest.

Evelyns gaze drifted from the ground back to him. No panic rose, just a detached, icy calm.

You need to go down and fetch my SIM card, she said evenly, almost dispassionate.

Daniel burst out laughing, pulling the phone from his pocket and waving it in front of Evelyns nose like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat.

Surprise, he announced, savoring the moment. Looks like you dont mind. Here you go my old phone went for a flight.

Evelyn took the device, noticed a scratch on the screen protector, ran a finger across it. Irritation rose, dark and heavy, filling the space inside her. She lifted her eyes to Daniel.

Im not a piece of tech for you to test, she whispered.

Daniels laughter died. His face stretched, eyebrows lifting.

Come on, it was just a joke. Dont be mad. I love you.

She slipped a gold ring with a tiny diamond off her finger and handed it to him.

What are you doing? Daniel recoiled, as if shed offered him a snake.

Im returning it, Evelyn said, placing the ring in his hand. These kinds of tests bruise my selfrespect. Im not marrying someone so childish and petty.

Evelyn, really? Over a prank? Daniels voice wavered with complaint.

She turned and walked back into the flat. The boxes were still stacked untouched in the hallway. She felt oddly relieved she hadnt unpacked anything yet. Grabbing her car keys, a bag, and the single box, she headed for the door.

Evelyn! Wait! Daniel chased after her down the corridor. Lets talk!

Theres nothing to talk about, she called over her shoulder. But I can spell it out for you: you didnt pass the test, Danny.

She shoved the box into the boot, slipped into the drivers seat, and started the engine. Daniel stood at the entrance, watching her vanish down the street.

Home smelled familiar coffee, old books, a hint of lavender freshener. Evelyn kicked off her shoes, padded into the kitchen, set the kettle on. Her phone buzzed. It was Daniel. She let it ring, then a text slipped in after a minute: Sorry, I hurt you. Lets meet and talk.

She deleted it without replying. Another came, then another. She blocked the number and silenced her phone.

The next days Daniel called from unknown numbers, messaged on social media, asked mutual friends to tell her he was sorry and would change.

Evelyn ignored everything. She didnt care about the money spent on the wedding, the booked restaurant, the invitations sent out. What mattered was not being humbled for somebody elses ego.

The cream dress hung in her wardrobe, wrapped in a protective cover. She pulled it out, smoothed the lace sleeves. Her niece, Katie, had recently asked for help picking a prom dress. This one would look better on her than on a bride who never got to walk down the aisle.

Evelyn plopped onto the sofa, hugged her knees, and stared out the window. The sky dimmed, painted with the last streaks of sunset. The city below buzzed, alive and indifferent to personal dramas. Somewhere, Daniel was probably in his new flat, baffled by why shed cut things so cleanly, not grasping that tests demean. Love and trust arent experiments.

The phone buzzed again. An unknown number. Evelyn didnt answer. She turned on some music, curled under a blanket, and closed her eyes. Inside there was a quiet peace, an empty space that felt like a heavy backpack finally set down after a long trek.

Two days later Katie burst in, shrieking with excitement at the sight of the dress.

Is this really for me? she gushed, pressing the lace against her chest, twirling in front of the mirror.

Absolutely, Evelyn smiled, watching the light in her nieces eyes.

Do you ever need it again?

No, Evelyn replied. Ive got other plans.

Katie threw her arms around Evelyn, the scent of floral shampoo and teenage exuberance filling the room. Evelyn returned the hug, running a hand along Katies back. It felt good that the dress hadnt gone to waste, that shed stopped in time, that there was no lingering regret just a gentle sigh for time spent and hopes lost.

But that chapter was over. She was free, and that mattered more than any test the world could throw at her.

Became the Housemaid When Alice decided to remarry, her son and daughter-in-law were shocked by the news and struggled with how to respond. — Are you sure you want such a drastic change at your age? — asked Kate, glancing at her husband. — Mum, why are you making such a rash decision? — fretted Russell. — You’ve spent most of your life raising me, but marrying now just seems foolish. — You’re young, that’s why you think this way, — replied Alice calmly. — I’m sixty-three, and no one knows how much time we have left. I have every right to spend my remaining years with someone I love. — Then don’t rush into signing the papers, — Russell tried to reason with his mother. — You hardly know this George, and you’re already preparing to change your life. — At our age, there’s no sense in waiting and wasting time, — Alice reasoned. — What more do I need to know? He’s two years older, lives with his daughter and her family in a three-bedroom, gets a good pension, and owns a garden allotment. — Where are you going to live? — Russell didn’t understand. — We’re living together, and there just isn’t room for another person here. — Don’t worry, George isn’t after our square footage, so I’ll move in with him, — Alice explained. — The flat is spacious, I’ve got on well with his daughter, everyone’s an adult, so there should be no reason for arguments or drama. Russell worried, Kate tried to help him see his mother’s side. — Maybe we’re just selfish? — she wondered. — Of course, it’s convenient having your mum help out and look after Kira, but she has every right to live her own life. Now that she has this chance, we shouldn’t stand in her way. — It would be fine if they just lived together, but why get married? — Russell didn’t get it. — The thought of a bride in white and cheesy games at the wedding is just too much. — They’re old-school, maybe marriage makes them feel more secure, — Kate tried to rationalize. And so Alice married George, whom she’d met by chance in the street, and soon moved into his apartment. At first, everything seemed fine—the family accepted her, her husband was kind, and Alice believed she’d finally earned happiness and could simply enjoy every day. But soon enough, the reality of living with her new family began to show. — Would you mind cooking a roast for dinner? — asked Ina. — I’d do it myself, but work’s been manic and I don’t have time, but you’ve got plenty of free hours. Alice picked up on the hint and took over not just cooking, but the shopping, cleaning, laundry, and even trips out to the allotment. — Now we’re married, the garden is our shared responsibility, — said George. — My daughter and her husband are too busy, the granddaughter’s still young, so we’ll have to take care of everything ourselves. Alice didn’t argue—she actually liked being a part of a big, supportive family built on helping each other. With her first husband, she’d never known such happiness—he was lazy and sly, and eventually ran off when Russell was ten. Twenty years had passed since and she never heard from him again. Now, everything felt right, so the chores weren’t a burden and any tiredness brought no resentment. — Mum, you’re not exactly up for garden work, are you? — Russell tried to have his say. — After every trip, your blood pressure must be shot—do you really need that? — Of course I do, I enjoy it, — Alice reasoned as a pensioner. — George and I will grow plenty of veg to share around—there’ll be enough for everyone. But Russell wasn’t convinced. For months, they hadn’t even been invited round for a cup of tea to meet the family. Russell and Kate had invited George to their home, but he always found excuses—a lack of time or energy—and eventually, they stopped asking, accepting the fact that this new extended family wasn’t interested in building ties. The only thing Russell and Kate wanted was for Alice to be happy and well. At first, she was, so the chores and errands seemed joyful. Only their number kept growing, and it became a bit much. On arrival at the allotment, George would complain of a bad back or of chest pain. His considerate wife would tuck him up to rest while she hauled branches, raked leaves, and emptied the rubbish. — Soup again? — George’s son-in-law, Anthony, grimaced. — We had it yesterday too; I thought you’d make something different today. — I didn’t have time to cook, or get to the shops, — Alice apologised. — I spent all day washing curtains and rehanging them; I was so worn out I had to have a lie down. — I get it, but I can’t stand soup, — Anthony pushed his plate aside. — Tomorrow Alice will make us a proper feast, — George pitched in straight away. And the next day, Alice spent all day in the kitchen, and everything was eaten in half an hour. Then, she cleaned up, and so it went on. Soon, the daughter and son-in-law found fault with every little thing, and George would take their side, painting his wife as the one to blame. — But I’m not a girl anymore, I get tired, and I don’t see why I should do everything on my own! — Alice protested after another round of complaints. — You’re my wife, so it’s your job to keep this house in order, — George reminded her. — As your wife, I should have rights, not just obligations, — Alice cried. Later, she calmed down and returned to her usual cheery self, trying to please everyone and keep the mood up at home. But one day, she snapped. That day, Ina and her husband were off to visit friends, and planned to leave their daughter with Alice. — Let the little one stay with her grandad or go out with you, because I’m visiting my own granddaughter today, — Alice said. — Why should we fit around you?! — snapped Ina. — You don’t have to, but I don’t owe you, either, — Alice reminded her. — My granddaughter’s birthday is today; I told you on Tuesday. Not only was this ignored, but you now want to keep me at home as well. — This isn’t right, honestly, — George blushed with irritation. — Ina’s plans will fall apart, and your granddaughter is so young, nothing will happen if you wish her happy birthday tomorrow. — Nothing will happen if the three of us visit my family now, or if you stay with your granddaughter while I’m out, — Alice stood her ground. — I knew marrying you would come to no good, — Ina said with spite. — She’s mediocre at cooking, slack with cleaning, and only ever thinks of herself. — After all I’ve done here these past months, you really think that? — Alice asked George. — Be honest, did you want a wife or just live-in help for every whim? — You’re being unfair, and trying to put me in the wrong, — George stuttered. — Don’t start a row out of nowhere. — I asked a simple question and I’m entitled to an answer, — Alice insisted. — If that’s how you’re going to talk, do as you please, but in my house, that attitude towards your duties just won’t do, — George pronounced proudly. — In that case, I quit, — said Alice, and went to pack her things. — Will you take your hopeless old gran back? — she lugged her bag and her granddaughter’s present. — Gave marriage a go, came back home, don’t ask me about it for now, just tell me: will you have me or not? — Of course, — her son and daughter-in-law rushed to greet her. — Your room’s ready and we’re happy you’re back. — You’re happy just like that? — she tried to hear those cherished words. — Why else do people rejoice when family comes home? — Kate wondered. At that moment, Alice was sure she was not the maid. She helped about the house and looked after her granddaughter, but her son and daughter-in-law had never taken advantage or treated her as a servant. Here, she was truly just a mum, a grandmother, a mother-in-law, and a beloved member of the family—not the help. Alice moved home for good, filed for divorce herself, and tried her best to put the whole experience behind her.

The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to turn. With no roof over her head, she spent a few nights at the train station, unsure of her next move. Suddenly, she remembered her family’s old country cottage—more a dilapidated hut than a home, but surely better than the station benches. Boarding the commuter train, Nina pressed her face to the chilly window as waves of painful memories washed over her. Two years before, she had lost her parents, forced to leave university and take a job on the local market. Life’s luck seemed to turn when she met Tim, a kind, decent man. Within a few months, they wed in a modest ceremony. Yet happiness was short-lived. Tim convinced her to sell her inherited London flat to start a business—but the dream quickly collapsed. Their marriage spiraled, and one day Tim brought home another woman, asking Nina to leave. Homeless again, Nina almost went to the police—but realized she’d handed over her flat willingly. Now, standing alone on a deserted platform in early spring, she made her way through the overgrown plot to the cottage. The front door refused to budge, and defeated, Nina sat on the porch and wept. Suddenly, from next door came smoke and the clatter of pans. Hoping to find familiar faces, she called out—only to find an unkempt elderly man by the fire. “Don’t call the police,” he said gently. “I don’t trouble anyone; I just camp here outdoors.” Despite his appearance, his cultured baritone gave him away as a learned man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked. He nodded, introducing himself as Michael. With her own struggles, Nina found comfort in company. As Michael helped her with the door, the two realised they had more in common than homelessness. Sharing a simple meal, Michael told how he’d been tricked out of his London flat by a scheming niece, left with nothing. In time, the unlikely pair formed their own improvised family—Nina returning to her studies with Michael’s help and Michael finding kinship and a home again. Two years later, over tea and cake in the cottage warmed by laughter, Nina and Michael looked out at the grapevine he’d just planted, grateful for a new beginning—and for the unexpected family they’d both been searching for.