“Gone Because I Was Tired of Being the ‘Embarrassing’ Wife”
“Katie, got a sec?” sighed Edward as his wife darted between the kitchen, the dining table, and the bar for the hundredth time that evening, fussing over salads and canapés for his guests.
“Of course, Edward. What’s wrong?” She turned, wiping her hands on her apron.
“There it is again—’Edward’… I’ve asked you not to twist your words like that. It sounds awful. And those long ‘o’s and ‘a’s—honestly, it grates on my ears. Maybe they talk like that in the countryside where you grew up, but not here.”
“I’ve never hidden where I come from. That’s just how we speak. Some say ‘scone’ one way, some another, but you lot act like there’s only one right way. What’s so wrong with ‘Eddie’ if I’m your ‘Katie’?”
“You don’t get it. I don’t want you sitting with us tonight. It’s a business meeting—my friends are serious people. You’re just… not on their level, love.”
Katie went still. A cold weight settled in her chest.
“And how am I ‘not on their level’? Wrong nails? Too simple-minded for talk about profit margins and start-ups? Your Emma and Victoria, even Lucy and Sophie—they’re not business analysts. We sit at the other table laughing at memes and sharing baby photos. What’s the issue?”
“You wouldn’t understand. They’re from proper families. And you…” Edward hesitated. “I’d be embarrassed in front of the lads.”
“Embarrassed? Was it embarrassing when I trailed after you to every hospital appointment? When we came back from my parents’ with a boot full of homemade jams—was *that* convenient? But when it’s time to host, suddenly I’m ‘not the right fit’?” She ripped off the apron and stormed toward the bedroom.
“Katie, wait—don’t be daft!” he called, but the door slammed shut.
He didn’t know she’d heard every word. The moment he left, she sank onto the bed, face in her hands. Anger and hurt tangled like a knot in her throat. How many times had she been warned? A country girl wasn’t meant for a high-flying Londoner. But she’d believed—in their love, in his kindness. Until now, he’d never given her reason to doubt.
They’d met the last year of uni. Katie studied to be a librarian; Edward, an economist. Quiet, awkward, the girls called him a “geek” behind his back. But Katie had pitied him—she hated unnecessary cruelty.
Later, at the library, they bumped into each other. He’d stuttered, nervous, and she’d gently said, “Breathe. Slow down.” That was the start. Then came dates, long talks, support. He’d bloomed with her. Two years later, a wedding even the sceptical relatives approved of.
And now—*this*?
“So when you were nobody, I was good enough. But now you’re a ‘somebody,’ I’m baggage?” Bitterly, she yanked out a suitcase.
She called her sister, who offered her place straightaway. The kids adored her.
“What’ll you do?” her sister asked.
“Go back to Mum and Dad. There’s a library job opening. I’ll rent a flat. The rest later—but I need to leave *now*.”
Her phone rang. *Edward.*
“Where the hell are you?! The guests arrive in two hours, and there’s no food, no hostess!”
“Darling, if I’m too common to sit with your ‘elite’ friends, I suppose someone more *refined* should cook for them. Sort it yourself. I’ve left.”
“Katie, are you mad?!”
“No. I’m leaving *your* life. Divorce papers tomorrow.”
She hung up, then opened social media. A short, raw post: how one evening turned her from a cherished wife to a “family disgrace.”
The wives and girlfriends of his mates reacted first. All took her side. Then the lads chimed in: “Didn’t peg Edward for that sort.” He texted, livid: “You’ve turned everyone against me.”
Did he think his words wouldn’t sting? That those women—many from towns just like hers—wouldn’t see themselves in his “common” slur?
“Did you *plan* this? To ruin me?”
“You ruined yourself the moment you said I wasn’t good enough for your table. When you stopped respecting me. You never knew me at all, Edward.”
“Who’d even want you?”
“Then why beg the judge for reconciliation?”
Silence.
“Over something this petty, you’d break a marriage?”
“If you call humiliation ‘petty,’ you’re either a tyrant or a fool. And I walk alone before I walk with either.”
Katie strode toward her sister’s. Dad would help with the flat. The job was waiting. And love? She’d find it again. But now she knew—respect and gratitude mattered just as much as passion.
