*“Let Denis Go!”: I Just Agreed…*
*“Where are you off to?”* Emily asked calmly, watching as her husband pulled on a fresh shirt.
*“Just meeting the lads for a pint and a chat,”* replied Oliver without even glancing her way.
*“When do you ever plan to spend time with me?”* Emily tried to smile, but it came out bitter.
*“You’re always at work! How was I supposed to know you’d finish early today?”*
A fair point, perhaps. But there had been too many of them—fair excuses, convenient justifications. Emily was tired. Tired of being the one who understood, forgave, and paid for everything.
Once, she thought she’d found *the one*. Oliver had been attentive, unassuming, slightly younger—but did age matter when two souls connected? They’d been introduced by her mother’s friends, married, settled into her spacious flat. He worked… as little as possible. But her salary covered them both.
The first warning signs came a year in. An affair. Then another, and another. Apologies, tears, promises. Then came the spending—a console, a new PC, the latest phone. Now, a car.
*“Emily, love, just think—I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery,”* Oliver mused.
*“You’d have to actually come home first,”* she snapped. But habit made forgiveness easier.
Then, one Sunday morning, the call came.
*“Hello? Let Oliver go!”* demanded a young woman’s voice.
*“Sorry, who is this?”*
*“We love each other! And you… you’re just in the way!”*
Emily listened in silence.
*“Are you sure your love’s worth more than his money?”* she finally asked.
*“Of course!”*
*“Let’s see.”*
*“What?” *
*“Take him. For good.”*
She hung up and packed his things without a word.
Ten minutes later, Oliver returned home, freezing at the sight of the suitcase by the door.
*“Are we… going somewhere?”*
*“*You* are. Wherever you like.”*
*“What do you mean?”*
*“Exactly that. We’re done.”*
*“Over some silly girl? I was joking, Emily! We planned a family! The car!”*
*“Yes. I’ll buy the car myself now. Pass my driving test. Have children—without you, if I want. Thanks for the motivation.”*
He argued. Pleaded. Manipulated. But Emily was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her shiny new car in the shopping centre car park. Driving licence in hand, confident stride, a small smile. And a dress her new partner—steady, dependable, free of games—loved to see her in.
Spotting Oliver in the distance, she paused for just a moment.
*“You bought the one I wanted?”* He frowned. *“I said black.”*
*“I wanted red. So I got red.”*
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. Without a word. Without a regret. Without *him*.
*Sometimes, the greatest freedom comes from letting go of what was never really yours.*
