“How Dare He?” A Crack in the Marriage
“Enough!” Gareth slammed his fist onto the table, sending the porcelain plates in the kitchen rattling. “Make sure I never see her again!”
“Are you serious right now?” Emily glared at her husband from under her brow, her voice trembling with fury. “Or have you forgotten I live here too and can invite whoever I please?”
“While you *do* live here,” he growled.
“Oh, is that how it is?”
“I’ve said my piece.” Gareth stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. He stormed out and slammed the door hard behind him.
Emily was left alone. Her pulse thundered in her temples. His words echoed like a slap. *”While you do live here.”* How dare he?
Charlotte—her best friend since childhood. They’d grown up together in Blackburn, hiding from storms under the same umbrella, sleeping over at each other’s houses, rescuing one another from scrapes too silly to remember without laughing. And now Gareth demanded she erase her?
Why? Because Charlotte was single? Because she didn’t chain herself to the kitchen, slaving over stews and dusting, but went on dates, laughed, *lived*? So what if she accepted gifts from admirers? That was her life, her rules.
Emily had told Gareth all about their girlish escapades. He’d laughed along before! Now, suddenly—an outright ban? On what grounds?
She strode into the living room, intent on settling this once and for all.
“Gareth, we’re not done. Explain to me why you’ve got such a bee in your bonnet about Charlotte. What’s she ever done to you?”
“To me?” He scoffed. “As if! I just don’t want her dragging her nonsense into this house.”
“Explain.”
“You really don’t get it?” He shot up, slippers and all, as if ready to bolt straight outside. “Your Charlotte’s a flake. Swaps men like socks. Lives off their wallets. And you *accept* that. You *befriend* her. Which means—you condone it.”
Emily blinked in disbelief.
“Gareth, are you *mad*? I love you! I don’t want anyone else!”
“Right. Love me to bits. And yet—you’re green with envy. At Charlotte. At your own *sister*, Olivia!”
Emily flushed.
“What’s Olivia got to do with this?”
“Everything! She’s not welcome in *my* house either!”
Emily froze. Suddenly, it all made sense. Olivia, her younger sister, had once been tangled in a scandal. Years spent with a man she thought would marry her—only to find he had a wife and two children. When the truth came out, the family erupted. Everyone judged Olivia. Then—a twist. The man moved away with his family… and left her a flat. Modest, but in the city centre.
Overnight, the scorn turned to murmurs. Someone even praised it: “At least he did right by her.” Of course, Emily had told Gareth everything—perhaps with too much admiration in her voice.
“Go on, then—say something!” Gareth barked, snapping her out of her daze.
“I *will* say something. Olivia’s a grown woman. She decides who she sees and what gifts she accepts.”
“Of course! Got herself a flat, didn’t she? Happy as a lark. And don’t tell me you weren’t jealous. Your *eyes* lit up when you talked about it!”
“Rubbish. Imagine if you had a mate who skirted around with women, wining and dining them. And then your own brother—father of two—suddenly gifts one of them a *flat*. Would *you* be thrilled?”
“I don’t care. It’s their life, not mine,” Emily said quietly.
“Good. But those women aren’t setting foot in *my* house again. Not Charlotte. Not Olivia.”
Emily didn’t reply. She walked to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and wept. Out of despair, helplessness—because the man she loved wasn’t just refusing to *hear* her. He was judging her. Piecing together fragments, spinning his own tales. He didn’t see the woman beside him every day—who cooked, listened, *lived* with him. He only saw the shadow of others’ choices.
What now? Divorce? Or silent obedience, betraying those who’d stood by her forever? There seemed no middle path. But the thought of becoming a traitor to *herself*—that was the worst of all.
