James finally signing those divorce papers felt like shedding an old, heavy coat I hadn’t realised I was drowning in. I stood at the kitchen window, nursing a cold mug of tea, watching the neighbour’s children kick a football around the green. Oddly, a lightness settled over me, unexpected after yesterday’s finality. Shouldn’t it feel worse?
“Mum, where’s Dad?” Ten-year-old Lily asked, appearing in her school uniform.
“Dad lives somewhere else now, remember? We talked about it,” I said softly, smoothing her hair. “He’ll pick you up tomorrow for the weekend.”
“But why can’t you just make up? Hannah Miller says her parents argued loads, then bought a new car and stopped.”
I managed a sad smile. If only it were that simple. If love died only because of arguments.
“Come on, eat your breakfast or you’ll be late.”
Lily sat obediently but stirred her porridge absently. “Mum? Are you sad?”
“A little. But you know what? Sometimes people part ways not because they stop caring, but because being together hurts more. Apart, they can be okay.”
Lily nodded, though I knew ten was too young to truly grasp it. Took me long enough.
This didn’t start yesterday, or even last year. It began when James started coming home later and later, and unfamiliar pub receipts appeared in his coat. Back then, I chalked it up to work meetings. He managed projects for a building firm; meetings happened.
“You late again?” I’d ask as he wolfed toast, eyes glued to his phone.
“Yeah. Big project deadline. Chaos. Don’t wait up.”
“What about the weekend? Lily wants to go down to your mum’s cottage in Essex?”
“Working the weekend too. Sorry, Em. It’s the job right now. We’ll relax later.”
Later never came. I grew used to eating alone, putting Lily to bed solo, watching telly by myself. Sometimes it felt like widowhood, not marriage.
My mates sympathised. “Men, they’re all the same these days,” Hannah sighed over coffee. “Work, work, work. Least he brings home the bacon.”
“Bacon, yes,” I agreed. “But what good is it? We live like strangers sharing a flat.”
“Em… you ever think he’s seeing someone?” Sophie ventured carefully.
“I’ve wondered. But how do you know? I can’t just ask, and rifling through his things feels wrong. Besides, where would he find the time? He’s always working.”
Sophie just gave me that look.
At home, I kept waiting. Waiting for James to come back to me, for him to talk like he used to, to care about my day, Lily’s school play, our future. But James seemed locked in some parallel existence.
“How was work?” I’d ask when he finally shuffled in.
“Fine,” he’d mutter, scrolling his phone.
“Lily had her school concert today. She recited her poem brilliantly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“James? Are you listening?”
“Listening, listening. Good on her.”
His blank face showed he heard nothing beyond his notifications.
Gradually, I stopped telling him things. What was the point? I took a full-time job over my part-time one, signed up for pottery classes, saw my friends more. Life started filling out, yet something crucial felt missing.
“Mum, why won’t Dad come ice skating with me?” Lily asked one day.
“He’s busy, sweetheart.”
“But he used to.”
“Used to be less busy.”
“When will he be un-busy?”
I hadn’t a clue. When? Ever?
That night, I resolved to talk. Waited till Lily slept, cooked a proper dinner, set the table. James came in at half ten.
“Sit down. Eat. We need to talk.”
“What about?” He slumped into a chair, phone still in hand.
“Put the phone down. Please.”
Reluctantly, he placed it face down.
“James, what’s happening to us? We’re not living, we’re existing. You come home, eat, sleep, leave. We don’t talk, we don’t go anywhere, you barely even see Lily.”
“Em, I’m working my arse off! Providing for this family!”
“What family? There’s me, you, Lily – but we aren’t a family. We’re three separate people sharing a postcode.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a busy patch. Bear with me.”
“I’ve borne it three years! How much longer?”
James sighed impatiently. “Em, I’m knackered. Can we do this another time?”
“When? Tomorrow you’ll be late, same the next day. When will we talk?”
“Dunno. When I’m free.”
His phone buzzed. His hand twitched towards it.
“James!”
“Sorry, what?” But his eyes flicked to the screen.
“Are you seeing someone?” The words surprised even me.
“What?” His head snapped up, genuine fear flashing in his eyes.
“Another woman. Is there someone else?”
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question. Is there?”
Silence hung thick. James stared at his plate. I watched him. My heart hammered like a fist against my ribs.
“Yes,” he whispered, finally.
Strangely, pain didn’t strike. Relief washed over me. The truth, at last.
“Long?”
“Six months.”
“Do you love her?”
He met my gaze. “Don’t know. Suppose so.”
“And me?”
“I… I care about you. Differently.”
“How differently?”
“Well… you’re Lily’s mum. We’ve got history.”
“So I’m like old furniture? Comfortable, but not exactly thrilling?”
“Em, don’t say that.”
“How else? James, we haven’t been husband and wife for ages. We’re flatmates.”
“Maybe we can work on things? I’ll end it.”
“Only to start again in a year?”
He said nothing.
“Don’t end it,” I heard myself say. “I won’t be your obligation. I’m done waiting for scraps of your attention.”
“So…?”
“So let’s divorce. Cleanly, honestly. For Lily’s sake too.”
He exhaled sharply, relief clear on his face. He’d wanted this too, just lacked the guts.
The divorce was surprisingly amicable. He didn’t touch the flat in my name, paid his maintenance to the pound on time, took Lily weekends. We talked more easily than we had in years.
“You alright?” he’d ask picking Lily up.
“Yeah. You?”
“Not bad. Lil, get your coat! Off to London Zoo!”
“Yay! Mum, are you coming?”
“No, love, got plans. Have fun though.”
It was true. Plans had appeared. I joined a gym, took up photography, saw friends, went to the theatre. Colour bled back into my world.
“You look blooming,” Hannah remarked. “Haven’t seen you this bright in years.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised. Thought I’d be heartbroken, but it’s the opposite. Like lifting a huge weight.”
“Don’t you miss him?”
“James? No. The family unit we *weren’t*? No. I missed *that* when we lived together. Missed real connection. Not anymore.”
“How’s Lily coping?”
“Surprisingly well. Says she’s got two homes now and it
That evening as Wendy rested against Robert’s shoulder, she realised the divorce hadn’t shattered their world, but had instead gently rearranged it into a shape where everyone, especially Emily, could finally belong and be cherished.
