Go to the kitchen!I heard my husband sayand I couldnt bear it.
Vera stared at her phone screen. Andrew had messaged for the fourth time in half an hour: *”Take the call, you daft woman.”*
She sat behind the wheel of the learners car, the instructor explaining parallel parking. The phone buzzed again.
Can I answer? My husbands worried.
Of course.
Andrew, Im driving
Why arent you picking up? Ive been calling!
I cant talk while
Right, got it. Getting your license is more important than your husband. When will you be back?
In an hour.
Whos making dinner? Or am I supposed to do it myself?
The instructor looked away, pretending not to hear.
Ill cook when I get back.
Good. Thought Id married some high-powered businesswoman.
At home, Andrew scrolled through his phone on the sofa. Three months unemployed, insisting it was temporaryyet the job hunt dragged on.
Hows driving school? Complicated, is it?
That familiar mocking lilt in his voice.
Fine. Practised parallel parking today.
Oh, very serious. A proper science, then?
Vera walked into the kitchen. The sink held unwashed disheshis breakfast.
Andrew, maybe we could finally unpack those boxes? Its February, and we still live like we just moved in.
He glanced up from the screen.
Whats there to unpack? You can manage.
We could do it together. And tidy up while
Andrew stood, stepping closer. Something cold flickered in his eyes.
*Go to the kitchen.*
He said it quietly, perfectly clear. Not a shout. Just wordsand the silence was worse than any scream.
Vera froze.
What did you say?
You heard. Make dinner.
We were talking about the boxes
Talking? You were whinging. I said youd manage.
Something inside Vera snapped. Not at the insultthe realisation. She remembered the New Years party with his friends, where hed charmed everyone. Flirting, joking, helping the hostess. In the car later, hed said:
Why were you so quiet all night? Embarrassed me.
Im *not* going to the kitchen!
He raised his eyebrows.
What?
I wont!
Vera, dont push me. We were fine just now.
Fine? When was the last time you spoke to me like a person?
Andrew set his phone aside.
Whats your problem? It was a joke.
A joke? *”Take the call, you daft woman”*thats a joke too?
I cant text my wife?
You can. Just not like that.
God, does it matter? You know I didnt mean it.
I know. Thats why Ive stayed quiet.
Vera sat on the edge of the bed.
Know what my instructor said today? *”Youve got steady hands.”* Imagine that. Steady. Yet at home, Im scared to ask for help with boxes.
Scared?
Andrew laughed.
Oh, give over!
I am. Because I know youll find a way to make me feel worthless.
Rubbish! Youre imagining things.
Am I? Remember when you told your friends I was *”playing at driving lessons”*?
It was funny!
To you. To me, it was humiliating.
Andrew sat beside her.
Look, if you dont like how I talk
Then what?
The doors right there.
Silence. Vera studied him. No apology. No explanation. Just the door.
Fine.
She stood, pulled a travel bag from the wardrobe, began packing.
What are you doing?
What you suggested.
Where will you go?
To Emilys.
Youll storm off, cry to your mates, then crawl back. Like always.
Like always?
Women love a drama. Slam doors, have a sob.
Vera packed documents, makeup, her charger.
Then come crawling home!
She reached for the wedding photo box. Pulled one outthem at the registry office, smiling.
Would you have spoken to me like *this* back then?
Andrew glanced at the photo.
People were watching.
And now?
Now its just family. I can relax.
Vera carefully replaced the photo. Zipped the bag.
Relax. Right.
Wait. Lets talk.
About what? Youve shown me exactly who I am to you at home.
In the hallway, she pulled on her coat. Andrew stood barefoot in joggers.
Oh, come off it! All couples argue.
We werent arguing.
Vera gripped the door handle.
You just decided you could talk to me like that now.
The door slammed. Behind her, his voice carried:
You wont get far!
Two weeks later, a text arrived: *”Ill come by tomorrow when Ive got time.”*
Her friend Emily shook her head.
Why even see him?
I need to be sure Im right.
A café by the station. Andrew was half an hour late.
Howve you been?
He sat without apologising.
Fine.
Where are you staying?
Emilys, for now.
*For now* slipped outan old habit of softening things.
Place is a mess. Dishes piled up, laundry not done. Thank God for the neighbour bringing groceries.
A waitress approachedpretty, brunette, mid-twenties.
What can I get you?
Two coffees,Andrew said, flashing her a smile.
Anything sweet to go with?
Weve lovely cakes
Bring the best youve got.
He slid off his wedding ring, set it on the table.
Now that theres no one at home to nag about tidying, might as well treat myself.
The waitress giggled.
Can you cook?
Course I can! Mans got to eat. Just no one to moan about socks on the floor.
Vera stared at the ring.
Or demand help unpacking.
He kept going. Right then, she understoodhe was turning their story into a joke for a stranger.
So,he turned back to her,ready to end this act? House is dull without you.
No.
No?
Im not coming back.
For the first time, Andrew really looked at her.
Serious?
Yes.
She stood, left cash for the coffee.
Wait. You know what youre doing?
I do. For the first time in months.
Vera! Were adults!
Exactly why Im leaving.
Outside, sleet fell. Through the window, she saw him explaining something to the waitressno doubt complaining about his unreasonable wife.
A month later, Vera rented a flat. Passed her test. Started a new job.
Once, she spotted Andrew in the supermarket with a younger woman. Laughing, picking out groceries. She walked past unseen.
She wonderedhow long before he tells her *”go to the kitchen”*? A month? Two?
That evening, Vera stood by her window with tea. Her phone lay silent on the table. No more messages calling her *daft*.
She thought of women who stay. Who believe *he doesnt mean it*, that *all men are like this*. She felt no judgementonly sorrow.
The phone lit upa colleagues message about tomorrows meeting. Polite. Professional.
Vera smiled, replied. Then sat on her sofain her home, where she could ask for help without fear.
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