– God, how tired I am of this! – James nervously paced the kitchen. – The same routine every day! I come home from work, and the atmosphere is stifling again.
– What are you talking about? – Emily stood by the stove, stirring the soup. She didn’t even turn to face him, her shoulders just tensed slightly.
– What am I talking about? – he mimicked, his voice rising. – Your coldness! You’re always wrapped up in your own business, your thoughts, your world where it seems I don’t even have a place!
– I’ve just been busy at work, you know that, – her voice was weary and detached.
– Work, work! What about me? What about *us*? – He slammed his palm down on the table. – When was the last time you asked about my day? When did we last actually go out together?
Emily slowly turned, her face betraying no emotion except a faint weariness in her eyes.
– We went to the cinema two weeks ago, – she replied calmly.
– And you spent the whole time glued to your phone! – James ran his hands through his hair. – You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving.
Emily froze, the spoon suspended over the pot.
– Where are you going at this hour?
– Not tonight. I mean *away*. From you. From *this*… – He swept his hand around the kitchen. – From it all.
Emily set the spoon down on the plate. She’d expected this for a long time, but the words still struck like a clap of thunder out of the blue.
– I’ve found someone else, – James blurted, as if fearing he might change his mind. – She appreciates me. She listens to me. She laughs at my jokes.
Emily stared at him for a long time. Then… she smiled. A strange smile—not bitter or angry, but something liberating.
– Fine, – she said simply. – When are you moving out?
James blinked. He’d expected tears, outcries, accusations—*anything* but this calm.
– You’re not even going to fight for the marriage? – he spat.
– Is there anything to fight for? – Emily moved to the window, gazing at the twilight garden. – We’ve grown apart long ago. You’re right—I live in my own world, and it’s evidently not a comfortable place for you.
James was stunned. He’d thought he had all the aces, but his final card had now become strangely powerless.
– I’ll take my things tomorrow while you’re at work, – he muttered.
– Whatever you like, – Emily returned to the stove, resuming her stirring. – Will you have supper?
James slammed the door without answering. Emily listened as the front door echoed again—the sound of him leaving.
She was alone. She turned off the hob, pushed the pot aside, and sat at the table. The silence in the flat was unexpected. She took out her phone, opened a message from Donna, and suddenly began to weep—not from sorrow, but from a sudden relief. The smile returned, even through the tears.
The message read: *“So, Em, are you going to say it to him yet?”*
But Emily hadn’t said anything to James. He’d said it himself. And that was for the best.
A week after James left, Emily sat in a café with Donna, her old friend. Donna watched her with concern.
– You just let it go? Not even trying to fix it?
Emily shrugged, swirling her coffee.
– What’s there to fix? You know the last two years, we were like strangers.
– But ten years together! – Donna frowned. – Doesn’t that mean *anything*?
– It does, – Emily nodded. – But not enough to torture each other.
Donna shook her head in disbelief:
– I don’t recognize you. You’d have fought before.
– I did before, – Emily gazed out the window. – Now I just want peace. That weight’s finally off my shoulders.
– Isn’t it *at all* painful? – Donna leaned in, studying her.
Emily hesitated.
– It is. But not because he left. Because I didn’t have the courage to say it that night. I’d even written out what I was going to say. He beat me to it.
– Why didn’t you tell me things were this bad?
– I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, – Emily sipped her coffee. – I envied her too, you know. Not for him… but for her *courage*. She knew what she wanted and went after it. I was waiting for something—though I don’t even know what.
– What now? – Donna slouched in her chair.
– Now—*life*, – Emily smiled, genuine for the first time in a long while. – Did I tell you I’ve been offered a new role? More creative direction, exciting work…
– Wait, – Donna raised a hand, holding her back. – First a husband, now a job… Are you flipping your whole life upside down?
– Not flipping—*starting fresh*, – Emily checked her watch. – I should go. My first meeting with the project lead is today.
– Hold on, – Donna gripped her arm. – You’re really okay? I care about you.
Emily touched her friend’s hand.
– I’m okay. Really. Maybe for the first time in ages.
That evening, Emily returned to the empty flat. James had taken his things, leaving a strange emptiness in the wardrobes and shelves. She walked through the rooms, noting the missing parts of his life: his razor in the bathroom, his laptop on the desk, his socks scattered around.
The phone rang. The screen showed her mother-in-law’s name.
– Hello, Dorothy, – Emily settled on the edge of the sofa.
– Em, sweetheart, what’s happened? – Dorothy’s voice trembled. – James won’t make sense of it. Just keeps saying you two split!
– That’s the truth, – Emily replied evenly. – We both decided it’s for the best.
– But you were such a beautiful couple! Couldn’t anything be fixed?
Emily sighed. She loved her mother-in-law, but now she had no appetite for lengthy explanations.
– Dorothy, we made this choice together. Sometimes people are better apart.
– Is this all because of that girl? – Steel edged Dorothy’s tone. – I’ve already told James he’s not to bring her here. Em, you know I’ve always seen you as my own…
– It’s not just about her, – Emily gently interrupted. – Our relationship had run its course. We both felt it.
– Are *you* holding up, though? – Dorothy’s voice softened.
– I’m holding up, – Emily smiled. – And—surprisingly—starting over. I’ve changed jobs, planning small renovations…
– Renovations? – Dorothy paused. – Right now?
– Why not? I’ve always dreamed of a light bedroom and a nook for creativity.
After the call, Emily stood at the window, watching the drizzle on the glass. *Strange*, she thought. *Last week, I feared solitude, but now it feels… right*.
She picked up a notebook to list renovation items when the doorbell rang.
James stood on the threshold, looking bewildered, his hair damp from the rain.
– Forgotten something, – he muttered, stepping in.
Emily nodded and returned to her list. He wandered to the study, rummaging for a while before emerging with a box.
– You’re starting renovations? – He noticed the décor magazines on the table.
– Yes, I’ve wanted it for a while, – she replied, not looking up.
– Can you manage alone?
– I can, – she finally looked at him. – I’ll hire painters for the big work, the rest I’ll handle myself.
James shifted uneasily, as if grasping for unspoken words. Emily waited.
– Are you… okay? – he finally asked.
– Fine, – she smiled that same liberating smile. – And you?
– Fine, – he averted his gaze. – Staying with Lena for now. Rent a flat later.
– That’s good, – she nodded. – I’m glad things are working out for you.
– Truly glad? – He narrowed his eyes.
– Truly, – she said firmly. – Everyone deserves happiness, James. Even you.
He gazed at her as though seeing her for the first time.
– I don’t even recognize you, – he muttered. – You’re nothing like you used to be.
– Maybe that’s for the better, – Emily shrugged. – Change can be good.
When he left, she returned to her list, her thoughts drifting to his words. *Not like you used to be*. Who *had* she been before? Quiet, accommodating, always bending to his will. She remembered pushing her own dreams aside, fearing to disrupt him, to disappoint.
She rose, approaching the mirror. The same Emily—brown hair, green eyes, faint lines at the corners of her mouth. But something subtle had shifted in her expression, her posture, her gaze.
*Yes,* she thought. *I’m not the same. And I like it*.
James returned two weeks later for some documents. Emily had just finished a room after the renovations. The flat was transformed—soft blue walls in the living room, pale peach in the bedroom, a mosaic backsplash in the kitchen, chosen without consulting anyone.
– Whoa, – James halted at the doorway. – You’ve done it up completely.
– Not everything, but a lot, – Emily tucked the cloth into the bucket. – The documents are in the study. I’ve sorted them into a file.
James wandered through, stares flickering at the changes.
– You even rearranged the furniture.
– More light, more space, – she nodded. – Here, the pictures of our travels, my parents, my friends…
He stopped before a new shelf filled with photos.
– No more of us? – His voice carried a hint of pain.
Emily joined him.
– They’re in an album, – she said softly. – I didn’t throw them out. This… – she gestured around—*is the present*.
– And how is your present? – he asked, turning.
– It’s *mine*, – she answered. – And that’s all that matters.
He nodded, as if understanding something crucial.
– You look… different, – he said suddenly. – Fresher, younger.
– Thank you, – Emily smiled. – I feel better. How about you?
James slumped visibly.
– Frankly, not great. With Lena… it’s complicated. She’s demanding. I hadn’t realized how fast things would change.
– You expected me to suffer and beg you back? – Emily asked, not unkindly.
– If I’m honest, yes, – he rubbed his neck. – Sounds stupid, I know.
– It’s not stupid. We just didn’t know each other as well as we thought.
As he prepared to leave, he hesitated.
– Em… do you ever think about trying again? I know I messed up, but maybe there’s still a…
Emily shook her head, cutting him off.
– No, James. This wasn’t just about you leaving or letting go. It was about realizing we’re just two different people. Now I’m finding *myself*. I won’t lose that again.
Outside, spring air swirled through the room, carrying the scent of lilacs and wet earth. The phone rang—Donna had invited her to an art exhibition.
– I’ll pick you up at seven, – Donna said. – It’ll be fun, I promise!
– Looking forward to it, – Emily replied. – Oh—and the café downstairs is hosting a “New Beginnings” event this weekend. You’re welcome to come for the ribbon-cutting.
– You’re *renovating* again? – Donna laughed. – You never *stay* anywhere.
– I moved, – Emily whispered with a smile. – From the old version of my life to a new one.
Six months later, Emily sat in a riverside café, waiting for Donna through the window. Her life had changed—her new job was both rewarding and lucrative. New friends, yoga, and lately, language classes for a hobby she’d long desired.
James walked in. He spotted her instantly and hesitated, though he eventually approached.
– Hi, – he looked tired. – Can I sit?
– Of course, – Emily gestured to the chair. – How are you?
– Okay, – he shrugged. – Split with Lena.
– I’m sorry, – she replied, genuine.
– I’m not, – he smiled sadly. – I thought I was diving into freedom, happiness, a new life… but it’s the same old mess with a different person.
Emily nodded silently.
– Still alone? – he asked carefully.
– Yes, – she smiled. – But not lonely.
– You look… happy, – he noted with a hint of envy.
– I am, – she said simply.
– Em, have you ever wondered… maybe we acted too quickly? Maybe we should’ve tried harder to fix it?
Emily gazed at the boats drifting on the river.
– Sometimes, James, a goodbye isn’t an end but a beginning. I’m grateful for the years we had. But I’m even more grateful for the courage to end it. If we hadn’t split, I might still be half-living, afraid to change.
– And you don’t regret anything? – he asked, disbelieving.
– I regret not finding this courage sooner, – she said. Meanwhile, Donna waved from outside, and Emily stood. – I need to go, sorry. Good to see you again.
James watched her leave. He remembered the way she’d smiled that night when he’d said he was leaving. Now he understood—no longer bitter or angry, but *free*. The smile of a woman who had finally become herself.
And as she stepped out into the autumn air, Emily inhaled deeply, knowing she’d never felt more alive. She was no longer anyone’s wife, no longer half of a story. She was a whole world—self-sufficient, full of possibility.
And she liked this new Emily—brave, open to change, ready for a life that had only just begun.
