Emily thought she had married for love… While she handled payment at the shop, Simon lingered near the exit. As Emily packed the groceries into bags, he stepped outside entirely. Exiting the store, she approached Simon, who was smoking.
“Simon, take the bags,” she requested, handing him two heavy shopping totes.
Simon looked as if she’d asked him to commit robbery, incredulous: “What? You can’t?”
Emily froze. What did he mean? Gentlemen always offered physical help. It looked absurd—a woman struggling with laden bags while her husband strode freely.
“They’re heavy,” she insisted.
“So?” Simon resisted, seeing Emily’s rising anger but digging in. He marched ahead, knowing she couldn’t keep pace. *”Carry bags? Like an errand boy? I’m no henpecked fool! A man decides how he’s treated!”* His mood was foul today—intent on asserting dominance.
“Simon, where are you going? Take these!” Emily called after him, voice cracking.
The bags weighed heavily—Simon knew, having piled most items into the trolley. Their flat was only five minutes away, but burdened, the distance felt endless.
Emily walked tearfully, hoping Simon would reappear. Instead, she watched his figure vanish down the street. She longed to abandon the bags yet trudged on in a daze.
At their building’s entrance, she slumped onto a bench, exhausted. Resentment and weariness threatened tears, but she swallowed them—crying publicly felt shameful. Yet she couldn’t dismiss his deliberate cruelty. How attentive he’d been before they wed! He understood full well what he’d done.
“Hello, pet!” called Gran Mary, breaking Emily’s thoughts.
“Hello, Gran Mary,” Emily replied softly.
Mary Thompson—”Gran Mary” to Emily—lived downstairs and had been close to Emily’s late grandmother. With her own mother remarried and distant, Gran Mary felt like family. Since Gran’s passing, she’d offered Emily steadfast kindness.
Without hesitation, Emily decided to gift her the groceries—better used than wasted. Gran Mary’s state pension stretched thin, and Emily often spoiled her with treats.
“Walk with me, Gran Mary. I’ll help you up,” Emily said, hefting the burdensome bags again.
Inside Gran Mary’s flat, Emily left the bags. Spotting sardines, smoked salmon, tinned peaches, and biscuits—luxuries Gran Mary adored—the older woman became so emotional Emily felt guilty for not visiting more. After warm farewells, Emily headed upstairs.
Simon greeted her at the door, mouth full.
“Where are the bags?” he asked casually.
“What bags? The ones you carried?” Emily matched his tone.
“Oh, drop it!” Simon chuckled uneasily. “You’re not cross, are you?”
“No,” Emily answered calmly. “I’ve drawn conclusions.”
Simon tensed. He’d expected histrionics—not icy composure. “What conclusions?”
“I have no husband.” She sighed. “I thought I’d married a partner, only to wed a fool.”
“You wound me,” Simon feigned offense.
“What’s unclear?” Emily locked eyes with him. “I need a gentleman for a husband. You clearly want your wife to be the man—then you ought to marry one.”
Simon’s face flushed crimson, fists clenched. But Emily had already entered their room, packing his things. He protested wildly, refusing to leave, baffled that bags could shatter their life. “It was fine! Carrying groceries—so what?”
“Your bag,” Emily cut through his rant, “you’ll carry yourself.”
Emily understood. This was the first warning bell—one concession invites worse control. Resolve now, or endure endless subjugation.
She shut the door firmly behind him, leaving Simon stunned in the hall. Some choices demand unwavering self-respect: love without dignity teaches only regret.
I Thought I Had Found My Forever…
