She still hadnt arrived. Lately, work had swallowed him whole, and he came home later each evening.
Emily tucked the children into bed and wandered to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. John wasnt home yet. These days, he was drowning in deadlines and exhaustion, always running behind. Emily pitied him, shielding him from household worries. After all, he was the sole breadwinner.
Right after their wedding, theyd agreedshed tend the home and future children, while John ensured their comfort. One by one, the three little ones arrived. John had been overjoyed each time, insisting they werent done yet.
Emily, however, was worn thin by endless nappies, formula bottles, and sleepless nights. She decided to press pause on more children.
John stumbled in long past midnight, oddly cheerful. When she asked why he was so late, he shrugged.
“Long night at the office, love. Thought we deserved a quick drink to unwind.”
“My dear!” she smiled. “Come, let me fix you something.”
“Dont trouble yourself. Had some wings at the pub. Ill just crash.”
International Womens Day neared. Emily left the kids with her mum and headed to the shopping centre. She wanted to celebrate properlya romantic dinner, just the two of them. Her mother agreed to babysit.
Alongside groceries and gifts, Emily decided to treat herself. It had been ages since shed bought anythingtoo guilty to ask John for clothes money, nowhere to wear them anyway. The last thing shed purchased was a dressing gown, hardly fitting for the occasion. So she slipped into a boutique, selected a few dresses, and stepped into the changing room.
She was halfway into the second dress when she heard his voice from the next stall.
“Mm, cant wait to get you out of that.”
Giggles, light and sharp, followed.
“Patience, you devil! Go pick something for your wife!”
“Why bother? Shes knee-deep in nappies. As long as the kids are fed and the toys picked up, who cares what she wears? Maybe Ill get her a slow cooker. Or a bread machineshell love that!”
A cold shiver gripped Emily. She kept trying on dresses mechanically, straining to catch every word.
“But what if she asks where the money went?” the girl teased. “Bread machines dont cost that much.”
“Since when do I answer to her? I work, she stays home! I give her a set budgetshe should be grateful!”
The rustling stopped. The voices faded. Peeking out, Emily saw her beloved husband at the till, paying alongside a blonde. Without hesitation, he kissed her right there in front of the cashier.
“Everything alright?” the shop assistant asked, noticing Emily still in the stall.
“Yes, fine!” she replied, handing over the dresses.
At home, Emily sent her mother off and settled the children for naps. Plans formed in her mind. The betrayal stung less than the contemptfor her, for the life shed built. In an instant, it all meant nothing. She wanted to bolt, file for divorce, but forced herself to think.
“If I leave, hell run to her, and Ill be stuck with the kids, scraping by. Child support? Barely a pittance. How will we live?”
By evening, shed decided. That night, John returned unusually early. “Probably spent the day with her,” Emily thought, numb. All feeling for him had vanished. He was a stranger now. The only dread was his touchunbearable.
But John, it seemed, had gotten what he wanted elsewhere. He kept his distance.
The next morning, Emily drafted a CV and sent it off. Then, the agonising wait. Every dawn, she checked her emails. Finally, a replyan interview at a company in town. The very one where John worked. She hesitated, then steeled herself.
Leaving the kids with her mother, she went. After two hours with the managers, they offered her a decent roleflexible hours. The pay wasnt grand, but enough to start.
She floated home, radiant. Her mother, baffled by her joy, pressed her.
“Mum, Johns cheating!” Emily blurted, grinning. Her mother, fearing stress had unhinged her, guided her to the sofa.
“Emily, how can you say that? John works so hard!”
“Hes not workinghes with her!” She spilled the changing-room scene. Her mother listened, then asked, “What will you do?”
“Divorce him! And Ive got a job. Once the kids are in nursery, Ill work full-time!”
“Good. No forgiveness for betrayal. Ill help with the children.”
“Thank you, Mum!” Emily clung to her, trembling.
On the eve of the 8th, John slunk in past midnight. Emily didnt ask. Stunned by her indifference, he stammered,
“Lost track of time with the lads”
“Just sleep,” she cut in.
The next morning, as Emily served breakfast, John presented her with a gleaming bread machine.
“To make your life easier, darling!” He leaned in for a kiss. She recoiled, stood, and walked away.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Bewildered, he followed. In the hallway, she pointed at two packed suitcases.
“Were done. No more lies.”
“How did you?”
“Heard everything in the changing room. Give the bread machine to herI dont need it.”
Caught, John snarled,
“Jealous, are you? Shes gorgeous, passionatenot some frumpy housewife! Youre stuck here with the kids, living off my money! Dont you dare question how I spend it!”
“I dont care. Get out.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, a furious knock. Her mother-in-law stood there, shrieking,
“Gold-digger! Driving him away, stealing his money! Drop the support!”
“Its for his children. If he cant afford his mistress anymore, thats his problem.”
“Without him, youll beg in the streets!”
“Get out before I call the police.”
Months passed. One by one, the children started nursery. When the youngest settled in, Emily went full-time.
“Hello,” a familiar voice greeted her at her desk. “Can we talk?”
“Busy, John,” she replied, not looking up.
“Lunch, maybe?” He looked haggard. She knewthe blonde, realising half his wages would vanish, had dumped him.
“No, John. Were done.”
