Im embarrassed to bring you to the banquet, David muttered, eyes glued to his phone. Therell be people there. Proper people. Not like this.
Rachel stood at the fridge, clutching a carton of milk. Twelve years married, two children. Nowshe was a source of shame.
Ill wear the black dress, she offered, voice quiet. The one you bought me.
Its not about the dress, he finally looked up. Its you. Youve let yourself go. Your hair, your face You just dont look right. Victorll be there with his wife. Shes a stylist. What about you? You know how it is.
Then I wont go.
Good. Ill just say youre unwell, fever or something. No onell ask.
He disappeared into the shower, and Rachel stayed rooted in the kitchen. In the next room, the children were sleepingOliver, aged ten, and Grace, eight. The mortgage, bills, school meetingsshed dissolved into this house, while her husband grew ashamed of her.
Has he completely lost it? Eleanor, her friend and hairdresser, stared at her as if Rachel had announced the apocalypse.
Embarrassed to bring his wife to a dinner? Who does he think he is, exactly?
Warehouse manager. He just got a promotion.
And now his wifes not good enough? Eleanor slammed the kettle on, eyes blazing. Listen to meremember what you did before kids?
I was a teacher.
Not that. Your jewellery. The beaded necklaces. I still wear that blue-stoned one you made. People always ask where I got it.
Rachels mind travelled back. Aventurine. Shed piece together jewellery in the evenings, when David still looked at her with curiosity.
That was ages ago.
If you did it once, you can do it again, Eleanor insisted, leaning closer. Whens the dinner?
Saturday.
Perfect. You come to mine tomorrow. Ill sort your hair and makeup. Well call Oliviashes got dresses. And youll bring your own jewellery.
Eleanor, David said
He can stuff his opinion, Rachel. Youre going to that banquet. And hes going to be terrified.
Olivia arrived with a long plum dress, off-shoulder, elegant. They spent an hour pinning and adjusting it to fit just right.
With this colour, youll need the perfect accessories, Olivia circled her. Silver wont suit. Golds not right either.
Rachel opened her old jewellery box. Right at the bottom, wrapped in velvet, was the setnecklace and earrings. Blue aventurine, crafted by her own hand eight years ago, for a special night that never happened.
Good Lord, its a masterpiece, Olivia whispered. You made it?
All myself.
Eleanor transformed her hair with soft wavesnot too flashy, just enough. The makeup was subtle but striking. Rachel stepped into the gown, fastening the necklace. The gemstones settled coolly on her neck, weighty and real.
Go look, Olivia nudged her towards the mirror.
Rachel approached, and the woman staring back wasnt the one whod scrubbed floors and boiled potatoes for twelve years. She remembered herself. The woman she once was.
By the time Rachel entered the riverside restaurant, the hall was packedtables, suits, shimmering dresses, a swell of music. She was fashionably late, just as planned. For a moment, the room quieted.
David stood by the bar, laughing at some joke. He saw her, and his face fell. Rachel walked past him and took a seat at a distant table, spine straight, hands relaxed in her lap.
Excuse me, is this seat free?
The man looked about forty-five, sharp in a grey suit, kind, intelligent eyes.
It is, she replied.
Im Owen. Victors business partnerbakeries. And you?
Rachel. Wife of the warehouse manager.
He studied her carefully, then glanced at her jewellery.
Aventurine? Thats handmadeI can tell. My mother collected stones. You rarely see craftsmanship like this.
I made it myself.
Really? Owen leaned in to inspect the work. Its extraordinary. Do you sell?
No. I stay at home with the kids.
Strange. Hands like yours arent meant for sitting idle.
He spent the evening by her side. They spoke of stones, creativity, how people lose themselves in chores. Owen invited her to dance, brought sparkling wine, made her laugh. Rachel noticed David watching her. With each moment, his face grew darker.
When she was ready to leave, Owen walked her to her car.
Rachel, if you decide to go back to making jewellerycall me, he handed her a card. I know people whod appreciate true talent.
She pocketed the card and nodded.
At home, David lasted barely five minutes.
What the hell were you doing? he snapped. All night with that Owen bloke! Everyone saweveryone watched my wife throwing herself at another man!
I wasnt throwing myself at anyone. I was having a conversation.
Conversation! You danced with himthree times! Victor asked what was going on. I was humiliated!
Youre always humiliated, Rachel slipped off her heels, setting them by the door. Ashamed to take me places, ashamed when people notice me. Is there anything you arent ashamed of?
Be quiet. You think a nice dress makes you special? Youre still nothing. A housewife. Living off me, spending my money, and playing the queen now!
Once, she might have cried. Fled to the bedroom, face to the wall. But something inside had snappedor perhaps, finally, clicked into place.
Weak men fear strong wives, she said softly, almost calmly. Youre insecure, David. Scared Ill see how small you really are.
Get out.
Ill be filing for divorce.
He stared at her, for the first time not angry but lost.
Where will you go with two kids? Your beads wont pay the bills.
Theyll be enough.
The next morning, Rachel found Owens card and dialled.
He was patient. They met in little coffee shops, discussing possibilities. Owen spoke of a friend who ran a gallery that featured unique, handmade workno one wanted clones anymore.
Youre gifted, Rachel. Proper talent and taste is rare.
She began working at nightaventurine, jasper, carnelian. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Owen collected her creations and took them to the gallery. A week later, he rang to say everything had sold out. Orders flooded in.
David doesnt know?
He barely speaks to me now.
And the divorce?
Ive found a solicitor. Were starting the process.
Owen was always steady. No drama, no boasting. Just guidance, a contact here, a tip there. Helped her find a flat to rent for her and the children. When Rachel packed the last bag, David stood in the doorway, laughing.
Youll be back in a week. Crawling.
She closed the suitcase and left, without another word.
Six months on. A small flat on the edge of town, the children, her work. Orders streamed in. The gallery offered her a solo show. Rachel started her own page online, posting photos. Followers multiplied.
Owen would visit with books for the children, call to check in. He never pressured herjust quietly stood by.
Mum, do you like him? Grace asked once, curious eyes wide.
I do.
We like him too. He doesnt shout.
After a year, Owen proposed. No kneeling, no roses. Just over supper, simple words.
I want all three of you with me. Always.
Rachel was ready.
Two years passed.
David trudged through a shopping centre. The warehouse job was gone; Victor had discovered, through a colleague, how David had treated Rachel and promptly fired him three months in. Now he scraped by as a porterrented room, debts, and emptiness his only company.
He saw them outside a jewellers.
Rachel in a pale coat, hair shining, the blue aventurine at her throat. Owen held her hand. Oliver and Grace laughing, chatting, animated.
David stopped by the window, watching as they climbed into a car. Owen opened Rachels door. She smiled at him.
Turning to his own reflection in the glass, David saw only a worn jacket, a grey, hollow face, empty eyes.
Hed lost his queen. And shed learned to thrivewithout him.
That, in the end, was his most terrible punishment: realising too late what hed had.
