“It’s All Your Fault!” – Five Years of Blame, Tears, and Broken Promises: When Lena Finally Walked O…

Its your fault! With her lips pursed, Margaret watched as Emily did the washing-up. In the living room, three-year-old Daisy was coughing again.
If only you kept an eye on the child, if youd noticed her cough earlier, if you didnt treat her with all that nonsense…
I gave her what the paediatrician prescribed, Emily tried to defend herself.
Shouldve been antibiotics! Now youll have to start injections since youre such a careless mother. Useless generation, all of you! Cant do anything properly! Dont care about your own kids. When my son was little…
Emily turned off the tap and left the kitchen quickly, fighting back tears. It had been five years now, and somehow, she was always at fault for everything. Silly. Always wrong. Her biggest mistake, however, was believing Tom and agreeing to stay with his parents just until we get a place of our own.
Their future home was a muddy hole dug into a rented patch of land. The build never moved an inch further. According to Tom, it was all Emilys fault for wanting kids back-to-back and barely asking his opinion.
Every time she suggested renting a flat, it was immediately dismissed.
Im not throwing money down the drain to strangers, Tom would say.
Emily would sigh and offer another option:
What if we get a little house with the family benefit? Theres both the national and the local allowance…
What for? Thatll barely get us a crumbling old place. Your benefit can go into building. Summers coming, and then…
Well, summer has come. The building site is exactly the same. Emily isnt handing over her savings for nothing. So, they just carry on living…
Tom, can you watch Daisy while I pop down to fetch Oliver from nursery? she asked as Tom came in. He grimaced, peeling off his shoes:
What if her fever spikes?
Its only for half an hour, Tom.
No, dont ask. Anything could happen…
He wouldnt budge. Emily put Daisys coat on in silence. The walk to nursery is barely a mile; not far, and Daisy could use some fresh air…
I said you shouldnt have sent Oliver to nursery today, Tom called after them. Wouldve been easier if he stayed home. Youre just desperate to get rid of the kids.
My fault again, Emily muttered bitterly.
That evening she sat at her laptop while the children played quietly nearby.
Working? Tom peered over her shoulder. Whens dinner?
Emily snapped the lid shut.
Looking at flats again? Tom asked sharply. Well get our house built soon; forget this nonsense.
Emily just nodded.
Mum, my tower wont build! And… and its your fault! Daisy burst in, dissolving into tears.
Thats right, Mums no help with your tower lazybones, Tom grinned, joining in his daughters complaint.
Emily looked at them, realising that her patience had finally run out. Now even her own daughter felt that Mum was always in the wrong…
The next morning, she didnt take Oliver to nursery.
Margaret pursed her lips as she watched her daughter-in-law gather up the children after breakfast, but said nothing.
Were off to the doctors, Emily said, out of habit.
They returned late, blaming a trip to the ENT clinic. The kids giggled and whispered, Emily tried to hush them.
Dad, guess where we were today? Daisy ran up to her father.
Where?
Not telling, she mumbled under her mothers stern stare.
Wont tell you, confirmed Oliver, Its a surprise for your birthday.
… The next day, Emily was gone, children and all.
No one noticed until Tom came home that evening.
Mum, whats for dinner?
Go and ask your Emily. Shes run off with the children since this morning and still not back. Ill do you some eggs, since she clearly doesnt care.
Maybe theyre still at the clinic… Tom scratched his head, heading for the living room. Clean, tidy Emily always was a good housekeeper yet something was missing. Tom sat down and realised at once: Daisys overlong stuffed cat, always on the sofa and in the way, wasnt there. Daisyd never taken it out the room before.
Tom jumped up, looked around, opened the wardrobe, and stopped dead. Emilys winter coat hung on a lonely hanger. Everything else her things and the childrens clothes was gone.
Mum! Shes left! Tom called in shock. Margaret just waved a hand, still busy at the stove.
Where would she go, that foolish girl.
Shes gone somewhere. Mum, look shes taken the clothes, the wardrobes empty.
And the children? Ring her now! Margaret gasped, leaving her burnt eggs forgotten. In moments she was standing helplessly by the half-empty wardrobe, muttering about her silly daughter-in-law, saying only a madwoman would leave a decent man, so Emily must have lost her senses from idleness.
Tom rang and rang Emilys phone was switched off.
Mum, how didnt you notice her moving things out? Thats not just one bag.
I popped to the corner shop… Shes lost her marbles. We need to find her and get the kids back.
And then what? Where would they go? Would you take care of them?
Well, no. Theres nursery.
And after? Evenings? Weekends? And when theyre ill?
Get a nanny.
Dyou even know how much that would cost?
Then care home, temporarily.
Tom groaned, shaking his head. The eggs were ruined. Night fell outside. Mother and son sat glumly in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do.
I dont know what more she wanted, Tom said plaintively. Walking out like that, not even saying a word. Maybe shes found another man?
Whod want her?
Whats she planning to live on? She hasnt even got a job.
Told you she shouldve put her benefits into the house. Now shes gone with it. Shell buy some dump and hole up there.
Shell be back. A week of living rough, shell be crawling home, Tom mumbled, trying to sound sure.
And youll just let her? No, you need to show her whos boss. When she crawls back, send her packing, make her beg forgiveness. Take the children show her shes nothing. Cheek, trying to play the clever one…
Margaret carried on and on. Tom went to bed hungry. He was certain Emily would come back in a few days and apologise. He wasnt about to waste time searching for a runaway wife.
Instead, a letter arrived. Registered, with a receipt. Emily, who had reverted her maiden name, was filing for divorce.
Mum, it says here Ill have to go to court, Tom reported.
Dont go. They cant divorce you without your agreement. Has she responded to any calls?
No.
Then go and find her. Beg her to come back. The neighbours will gossip! I told people youd all gone on holiday, this will ruin us!
Shell come back herself…
Tom, if shes filed, shes not coming back. Find her. Bring flowers, apologise, his mother urged, softening.
Apologise? For what?
Doesnt matter. Figure it out when you find her.
… Emily was discovered by chance. Tom saw her as he headed out for groceries after work, following the list Margaret had given him.
It was 5.30 in the evening, and there she was, walking through the city centre with the children, not a care in the world. Tom almost lost his temper but decided not to make a scene. Keeping his distance, he quietly followed.
Emily strolled through the park with the children, sipping juice, laughing. She looked happy, genuinely free. Clearly she hadnt come crawling back, starving and desperate.
After the divorce Ill have to pay HER child support for two kids, Tom thought, horrified.
He caught up just outside the entrance to a block of flats, breaking into a jog so he wouldnt lose sight of them.
Oliver, Daisy, how are you doing? Missed Dad?
The kids darted behind Emilys legs. Oliver, the eldest, whispered:
Mum, were not going to Grandmas, are we?
Of course not, darling…
Youve turned them against me, havent you? Tom spat, Vanished with no warning. Whats wrong with what you had? You lived like a queen! And now you want a divorce? Found yourself a new man? Going to sponge off someone else now? Ungrateful! Ill take the kids, see if I dont!
Emily just smiled thinly.
Wait here, Ill fetch their things.
W-what for?
Wouldnt want you to take them without their things. Daisy cant sleep without her cat, you know that.
Are you having a laugh? Ill
Emily backed away. Curious residents were starting to gather.
Lead the way to your new place, then, Tom demanded. Emily shook her head.
Well see each other in court, Tom.
Youll get nothing from me, you hear? Neither the flat, nor the plot, nor the house I paid for it all. Theres nothing thats yours!
Emily gazed at the rage-twisted face of her husband and realised she should have seen the truth right from the start. Five years with him, always hoping, waiting for a miracle…
Want me to ring the police? offered her new neighbour, a woman of around forty.
At that, Tom quietened down, muttering as he turned away:
Suit yourself. Its all your own fault!
Emily broke into laughter light, effortless. She hugged the children and they headed inside. The flat was rented, but for the first time in five years, Emily felt like she belonged somewhere. She chose what the family ate, when they went for walks, when they tidied up. Her husband neednt worry; she had work. For years now, shed been freelancing as a web designer, sharpening her skills at night while the children slept, knowing the end of her patience was drawing near…
Later, the divorce would finally go through Tom, following his mothers advice, would miss the hearings, so they would be postponed, and only months later would news arrive by post that it was complete, regardless.
Tom wouldnt turn up for his sons birthday, claiming that child support was enough.
And, months later, Emily would finally buy a little two-bedroom flat on the outskirts and move there with the kids.
From mutual friends shed hear that Tom had been trying to settle down, but somehow none of the women would stay for long.
And only in her nightmares would Emily occasionally hear his mocking voice: Its all your fault, you know…