I came home for supper, the meal Emily had been preparing all evening. I needed to talk to her; the conversation would be difficult, so I started with, Theres something I have to tell you She didnt answer, turned back to the stove, and I saw the familiar hurt flicker in her eyes.
I had to keep the discussion going, so I blurted out that we should get a divorce. She asked simply, Why? I couldnt give her an answer and sidestepped the question. Anger rose in her, she threw a fit, hurling anything she could find at me. Youre no man, she shouted.
There was nothing more to say. I went to bed, but sleep wouldnt come; I could hear her sobbing in the next room. I struggled to explain what had happened to our marriage. How could I tell her that I no longer loved her, that only pity remained, and that I had given my heart to Jane?
The next day I prepared all the paperwork for the divorce and the division of assets. I left Emily the house, the car and thirty percent of the shares in my business. She smiled, ripped the papers up and said she wanted nothing from me, then broke down in tears again. I felt a pang of regret for ten years together, yet her reaction only reinforced my resolve to end things.
That evening I arrived home late, skipped dinner and went straight to bed. Emily sat at the kitchen table, writing something. In the middle of the night I woke to find her still scribbling at the desk. I no longer cared what she was doing; the intimacy we had shared was gone.
In the morning she told me she had conditions for the divorce. She insisted we keep good relations for as long as we could, arguing that our son, Oliver, would have his school exams in a month and that any upheaval would unsettle him. That was reasonable. Her second condition seemed absurd: for a whole month she wanted me to carry her out of the bedroom each morning and bear her to the front door, as a reminder of how I had once brought her into my home after the wedding.
I didnt argue; I was indifferent. At work I mentioned the request to Jane, who snorted and called it a pathetic attempt by my wife to manipulate me into staying.
When I first lifted Emily onto my shoulders, I felt awkward. We had become strangers. Oliver saw us and shouted, Dads carrying Mum! Emily whispered, Dont say anything to him I set her down by the front door and she walked off to the bus stop.
The second day the ritual felt more natural. I noticed, for the first time, the fine lines on Emilys face and a few grey hairs. How could I ever repay the warmth she had poured into our marriage?
Soon a small spark began to flicker between us, growing each day. I also realized how much lighter she had become, both in spirit and in weight. I said nothing to Jane about it.
On the final day, I went looking for Emily by the wardrobe. She was weeping, saying how much she had lost weight lately. She really had become very thin. Our son burst in and asked, When will Dad carry Mum again? He treated it as a family tradition. I lifted her, feeling exactly as I had on our wedding day. She rested her head lightly on my neck. The only thing that nagged at me was her frailty.
I set her down, grabbed the car keys and rushed back to the office. I met Jane there and told her I didnt want a divorce; our feelings had cooled only because we stopped caring for each other. She slapped me, ran off in tears.
All the while I wanted to see Emily. I bolted from the office, bought the most beautiful bouquet at a nearby florist, and when the clerk asked what to write on the card I answered, It will be my joy to carry you in my arms until the end of my days.
I hurried home, heart light and a smile on my lips, climbed the stairs and burst into the bedroom. Emily lay on the bedshe was dead.
Later I learned she had been bravely fighting cancer for months, never saying a word to me because I was preoccupied with my entanglement with Jane. Emily had been an extraordinarily wise woman; she had invented those divorce conditions so that I wouldnt become a monster in Olivers eyes.
My story may help someone hold onto their family. Many give up without realising they are only one step away from a chance to mend what matters most. The true lesson is that love, respect and honest communication are the only foundations sturdy enough to survive the storms of life.
