Tom came home and, without even taking off his shoes or coat, blurted out, We need to talk.
He stood there, still in his jacket, and said, Emma weve got to have a serious chat. Then, in one breath, his already wide eyes grew even wider, without a hint of hesitation: Ive fallen in love.
*Here we go,* Emma thought. *Midlife crisis has arrived. Welcome to the club.* She gave him a careful glancesomething she hadnt done in years (five? six? maybe even eight?).
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but for Emma, it was her entire life with Tom that flashed by. Theyd met the usual wayonline. Emma shaved three years off her age, Tom added three centimetres to his height, and somehow, despite the odds, theyd matched each others search criteria.
She couldnt remember who messaged first, but she knew his message had been free of vulgarity, laced with light self-deprecation, which she loved. At thirty-three, assessing her chances in the “dating market,” Emma knew exactly where she stoodnot at the back of the queue, but close enough. So for their first date, she didnt go overboardjust a nice outfit, tinted glasses, stylish underwear, homemade biscuits in her handbag, and a copy of Jane Austens *Emma* (just in case).
The date went surprisingly well (*see? dressing sensibly pays off*), and their romance took off fast. They enjoyed each others company so much that after six months of steady datingand relentless parental pressure about grandchildrenTom finally proposed. They introduced their families, opted for a small wedding (approved unanimously, much to their relief), and booked the first available date at the registry office.
Life was good. Their marriage had a tropical climateminimal storms, just steady warmth. Wasnt that happiness? Tom, a typical bloke, shed his emotionally deep, romantic, golden-handed dreamer act within weeks of marriage and settled into being his true selfa practical, hardworking man in comfy joggers.
Emma, as the woman in the relationship, loosened her invisible-listener-sexy-housewife-intellectual corset slowly, quietlyuntil pregnancy sped things up. Within a year, she gladly traded heels for slippers and wrapped herself in a cosy dressing gown.
The fact that neither of them missed their old personas, and that their relationship stayed strong, convinced Emma theyd made the right choice. Raising two kids rocked the boat sometimes, but it never capsized. When storms passed, they sailed smoothly again.
Twelve years in, Tom had never been caught flirtingnot that Emma was the jealous type. She imagined him trying to charm someone and nearly laughedthe mental image was ridiculous. Early on, hed admitted he was rubbish at compliments, so hed developed his own method: silently widening his eyes like an owl.
Over time, Emma learned to read his entire emotional spectrum through the roundness of his eyeswild admiration, quiet approval, sudden shock, utter confusion, deep frustration. Now she pictured him firing off compliments to some random woman, eyes bulging wider with each one
Her throat tightened. She smirked nervously and asked, So whats her name, then?
Toms eyes nearly popped out of his head. He shifted awkwardly, scratching his arm. What? How did youhow could you possiblyguess its a *her*?! He looked genuinely shocked. I just I couldnt walk past her, Em. Shes incredible. So soft, so beautiful she reminds me of you.
Then, from his coat pocket, he pulled out a tiny, greyish-brown hamster with pink-tinged ears, a twitching nose, and beady black eyes.
Emma stopped listening. She stared at Tom, at his new little friend cradled in his hands, and felt overwhelmingly happybecause of all the creatures in the world, hed fallen in love with a hamster one that looked just like her.
