“Let Denis go!”: I simply agreed…
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yvette asked coolly, watching her husband shrug on a fresh shirt.
“Just meeting the lads for a pint. A bit of banter, that’s all,” replied Denis, not even bothering to look at her.
“And when exactly do you plan to spend time with me?” She tried to smile, but it came out bitter.
“You’re always at work! How was I supposed to know you’d clock off early today?”
A fair question—on the surface. But there’d been too many of those lately. Too many excuses, all neat and logical. And Yvette was tired. Tired of being the one who forgave, who understood, who paid.
Once, she’d thought he was the one. Denis had been attentive, shy, a tad younger—but did age matter when two souls fit? Their mothers’ friends had set them up. They married, moved into her spacious flat. He worked… when he bothered. But she earned enough. For both.
The warnings came after a year. An affair. Then another. And another. Apologies, tears, promises. And then—the spending. A console, a gaming PC, the latest phone. Now—a car.
“Sweetheart, it’s practical, isn’t it?” Denis had pleaded. “I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery—”
“Try showing up at home first,” she’d snapped. But habit made her relent.
Then came the call. A Sunday morning.
“Hello? Let Denis go!” A young woman’s voice, defiant.
“Excuse me, who is this?”
“We’re in love! You—you’re just in the way!”
Yvette listened in silence.
“Are you sure love means more to you than money?” she finally asked.
“Obviously!”
“Let’s test that.”
“What?”
“Take him. For good.”
She hung up, calmly packed his things into a suitcase.
Ten minutes later, Denis returned. He froze in the doorway, staring at the luggage.
“Are we… going somewhere?”
“You are. Wherever you like.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. We’re done.”
“Over some daft bird? Yvette, I was joking! We wanted a family! A car!”
“Yes. And now I’ll buy my own car. Get my own license. Have kids—if I want—without you. Thanks for the push.”
He argued. Bargained. Manipulated. But Yvette was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her shiny new car in the shopping centre car park. Driving licence in hand, confidence in her stride, a quiet smile. And a dress her new partner loved—steady, mature, no nonsense.
Spotting Denis in the distance, she paused for just a second.
“You bought that one? But… I wanted black.”
“I wanted red. So I bought red.”
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. No words. No regrets.
No him.
