“Let Denis go!”: I just agreed…
“Where are you off to?” asked Hannah, keeping her voice steady as she watched her husband pull on a fresh shirt.
“Just meeting up with the lads for a pint and a chat,” replied Dennis, barely glancing her way.
“And when exactly were you planning 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 finish early today?”
Fair point, maybe. But lately, there’d been too many of those—fair, convenient excuses. And Hannah was tired. Tired of being the one who understood, forgave, and paid for everything.
Once, she’d thought she’d found *the one*. Dennis had been attentive, sweet, a little younger—but what did age matter when two souls fit? Their mums’ friends had set them up, they’d had a lovely wedding, moved into her spacious flat. He worked… sort of. But her salary covered them both.
The first red flags came a year in. Affairs. One, then two, then three. Apologies, tears, promises. And then—the spending. A gaming console, a new laptop, the latest phone… Now, a car.
“Hann, love, it’ll be so handy! I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery…” Dennis had gushed.
“Start by actually coming home first,” she’d snapped. But the habit of forgiving ran deep.
Then came the call. Early on a Sunday morning.
“Hello? Let Dennis go!” A young woman’s voice.
“Sorry, who is this?”
“We’re in love! And you—you’re just in the way!”
Hannah listened in silence.
“Are you sure love means more to you than money?” she finally asked.
“Of course!”
“Let’s test that, then.”
“What?”
“You can have him. For good.”
She hung up and calmly packed his things into a suitcase.
Ten minutes later, Dennis walked in. He froze in the doorway, staring at the luggage.
“Are we… going somewhere?”
“You are. Wherever you want.”
“What?”
“Exactly that. We’re done.”
“Over some silly tart? I was joking, Hannah! We were supposed to be a family! Get a car!”
“Yep. I’ll buy my own car now. Pass my test. Have kids—if I want—without you. Thanks for the motivation.”
He argued. Begged. Manipulated. But Hannah was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her brand-new car at a shopping centre car park—driver’s license in hand, confidence in her step, a soft smile. A new dress, too, the kind her current partner adored. Mature, steady, no nonsense.
Spotting Dennis in the distance, she paused for a second.
“You bought *that* one? But… I wanted black.”
“I wanted red. So I got red.”
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. No words. No regrets. Just gone.
