One gloomy evening, while sorting through old things at her parents’ house, Emily stumbled upon a conversation that flipped her world upside down. She was in her room when her mum’s anxious voice drifted in from the kitchen:
“Emily, love, why don’t you go back to him? What’s the point in walking away and moving out like this?”
“Mum, I told you, it’s just for a bit,” Emily sighed. “The tenants are leaving Grandad’s flat in Manchester soon, and I’ll move there. I don’t want to be underfoot.”
“How could you be underfoot, Emily?” Her mum’s voice trembled. “You and James had everything. He didn’t drink, didn’t stray—what more do you want? You’ve got to bend a little, you’ve been together years!”
Emily gave a bitter smile, watching the drizzle outside. A storm was brewing inside her. How could she explain that marriage to James felt like living under a microscope?
“Mum, you don’t know how it’s been,” she said, her voice shaky. “Do you close the curtains at night? Are you and Dad ever alone in the bedroom, or is it a bloody open house? If you wanted something private, would the whole street know? No? Well, that’s what my life was like! I was in a goldfish bowl, every breath, every step on show. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the town knew what colour my undies were or—” She faltered. “—what James and I got up to at night. And you think that’s normal?”
Her mum was silent, stunned. Emily couldn’t stop now.
“And guess who told everyone? My husband! The one I left and won’t go back to. He can’t keep his mouth shut! I’d say, ‘James, this is just between us,’ and an hour later, everyone knew. He’d blink and say, ‘But I only told them in confidence—what’s the harm?’” Emily clenched her fists. “Last time, he had a meltdown, yelling that it was just how he was—that his mum ‘only worried!’ Tell me, why does his mum need to know the day we planned to start trying for a baby?!”
Her mum gasped, covering her mouth.
“Yeah, Mum, that happened!” Emily nearly shouted. “His mum called asking how it went, fretting over grandkids. She even went to some herbalist, slipping herbs into my tea through James! That was the last straw. I can’t live like this. Walking down the street, people smile like they know what we did last night. It’s paranoia! His mum rings to ask if I’m doing yoga positions after—well, you get it. I can’t take it anymore!”
She fell silent, breathing hard. Her mum stared, horrified.
“What about surprises?” Emily went on, quieter. “Impossible. He’d blab everything. Buys me a gift? I’d known about it for weeks from the neighbour. He’s lovely, sure—doesn’t drink, hardworking—but that mouth of his… I can’t, Mum.”
Her dad, usually quiet, suddenly cut in:
“Leave her be, love,” he said firmly. “If she says it’s done, it’s done. Who’ll stand by her if not us? Stay as long as you need, lass.”
Turning to Emily, his voice softened.
“I’ve known blokes like your James. Back in my crew, we had one—Chatterbox Charlie. Couldn’t trust him with a secret to save his life. Said it ran in the family, from his dad. Might’ve been lying—who knows? But living like that? Torture.”
Emily gave her dad a grateful nod and slipped back to her room. She loved that cosy little flat, every bit of it warm and cared for. But living with James, whose big mouth shattered any privacy, was unbearable.
A knock. Her mum came in, twisting her apron.
“Emily, are you really filing for divorce?”
“Mum, let me think,” she sighed. “But probably, yes. He won’t change.”
“What if he does?” Her mum clung to hope.
“He won’t,” Emily said flatly. “You think this is easy for me?”
Her mum left, and Emily flopped onto the bed, letting the tears come. She never thought her marriage to James—charming, dependable, kind on the surface—would end like this. Even before the wedding, there were signs: once, they stayed at his parents’ cottage, and suddenly all the neighbours greeted her with knowing smiles and nicknames. His mum once remarked how “proper” Emily was compared to “loose girls these days”. Years later, mid-row, his mum spat that she’d known Emily was “untouched” before the wedding.
“You told your mum?!” Emily had screamed.
“So what? She was happy for us!” James had replied, baffled.
That was the breaking point. She couldn’t take another second.
Three months later, Emily moved to the other side of Manchester for a fresh start. She never expected to see James there.
“Alright, Em?” He hovered by her door, shifting awkwardly.
“Hi,” she said coldly.
“Can we talk?”
“Got your recorder on?” She smirked. “So you can recite every word back to everyone later?”
James flushed.
“I wanted to say sorry. I get it now, Em. I’ve been an idiot. I miss you. I’ll change.”
“I miss you too,” she admitted, then added, “But you made your choice. If you can’t zip it, we’re done.”
“Did you file?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Anyone else?”
“No,” she snapped. “But I hope there will be. And he won’t blab like you. Just go, James.”
She walked away, heart aching. All evening, she braced for calls—his mum, friends, neighbours—sure they’d scold her for leaving such a “good man”. But the phone stayed silent. No calls came, not then, not the next day.
James, though, kept turning up—by her door, at the café nearby.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.
“On leave, Em,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.
His leave ended, but he kept showing up. His mum rang occasionally, asking after Emily but never mentioning James. Then one day:
“Emily, have you seen James? How is he?”
“Here we go,” Emily thought, but aloud:
“He’s fine. Working. We meet sometimes. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, good!” His mum brightened. “Just don’t tell him I asked. He’s gone all quiet lately—doesn’t share a thing.”
Emily blinked. Had he actually changed? She decided to give him another chance—but told no one.
Months later, they returned to their hometown together. Friends, family, neighbours were stunned—no one knew they’d reconciled. Walking back from Tesco, a neighbour beamed:
“Hello, Emily!”
She nodded, but the grins around her grew wider. “Has James slipped back into old habits?” she feared. Sitting on a bench, she overhead:
“Emily, love, your jumper’s inside out—warding off the evil eye?”
“Aye,” chuckled another, “that’s my trick—upside-down shirt means free drinks by evening!”
Emily laughed, tension melting. Just smiles—no gossip.
“And no one told me!” James’s mum huffed, peering at the baby in the crib.
“We didn’t know either,” Emily’s mum said. “She rang saying, ‘Mum, I’m in labour!’ Out of the blue.”
“Same here,” his mum sighed. “James only called after…”
Emily’s dad, watching his grandson, thought, “Good lad. Learned his lesson.” No one knew how hard James had worked—practicing secrecy by the river, whispering to the wind instead of the world. It wasn’t easy, but he’d done it.
James looked at his son, certain the baby winked. “Don’t worry, mate,” he thought. “I’ll teach you how to keep quiet.”
