Shes just manipulating my husband, fumed Victoria.
Victoria stared at her phone, feeling that familiar prickle of frustration boiling up inside her again.
Andrew was calling for the third time that evening.
Vic, Im so sorry, really, came his tired, apologetic voice, all too familiar. I know wed planned to go to the theatre tonight, but well, Emma says James has a temperature of 40. She cant cope on her own. You understand, dont you?
Victoria did understand.
She understood all too well.
Andy, weve got tickets, she said, keeping her voice calm although inside, she was screaming. Weve been waiting for this show for six weeks!
I know, sweetheart. Ill make it up to you, I promise. But hes just a little ladI cant just leave him.
Putting the phone down, Victoria immediately rang her friend.
Helen, can you believe it?! She paced the living room, flapping her arms. Again! Third time this month! First his sons sudden illness, then his exs car broke down, and theres always some other drama!
Maybe James really is unwell? Helen suggested gently.
I know! Victoria flopped onto the sofa. Of course hes unwell. Kids are always picking up something; thats normal. What isnt normal is how his ex always calls him! Doesnt she have parents? Or any friends?
Well, you know
No, Helen! Victoria shot up. Shes manipulating him! Andys a good bloke, he just doesnt see it! She knows hell drop everything to come running, and she uses that!
Helen sighed on the other end.
Are you sure the problems her?
Who else would it be?! Victoria froze for a moment.
I dont know. Just think about it. If a woman keeps calling her ex, and he always comes to the rescuewhich of them is using the other?
Victoria opened her mouth, then closed it again, feeling a sharp twinge deep inside.
Dont be ridiculous, Helen, she said sharply. Andys just a responsible dad. Hed never leave his son.
Of course, of course, Helen backtracked quickly. I was just saying.
But that offhand comment stuck, like a little thorn. No matter what she did, she couldnt unthink it.
Andrew got home late that night, looking shattered and rumpled, that familiar guilty look on his face.
Sorry, love, Im such an idiot, he said, hugging her from behind, nuzzling her neck. Ill get new ticketsfor the best seats this time. Promise.
Victoria said nothing. She stared out the window, thinking: how many times had he made these promises now? Five? Ten? Twenty?
Always the same: You understand, dont you?
I do understand, Victoria thought. I just dont understand what, exactly.
Then little things began to pile up.
It started off subtly, like dust on a shelfbarely visible, until you run your finger across it and there it is: that grey residue.
Victoria noticed Andrew had started to guard his phone. Hed always just left it lying aroundon the table, the sofa, sometimes even in the bathroom. Now he took it everywhere with him. Even when popping into the kitchen for water, he pocketed it.
Andy, why are you carrying your phone everywhere? she asked lightly one evening.
Hm? Oh, just habit. Im used to it at worksomeones always ringing.
Alright then.
Later, by chance, Victoria looked at his phones calendar as she was about to put in a theatre date theyd rescheduled. Instead, she saw: Pick up James at nursery 4pm, Drop car documents round to Emma, Ring E. about vaccinations.
E. was Emma.
Andy, she said over dinner, stirring her tea so long the sugar had dissolved ages ago, Do you know when my dissertation defence is?
He looked up from his plate.
Dissertation? Er, May, isnt it?
March. In two weeks.
Oh. Right. Sorry, head like a sieve.
A sieve, but Emmas diary was memorised to the minute.
Then there was money.
Victoria happened on a bank statement Andrew had left on the table. Three transfers of £200 each. RecipientE. Wilson.
Andy, she called, holding up the paper, Whats this?
He didnt even blush. Just sighed.
Im helping Emma out. Her mums been unwell, she needed money for medicine. Then Jamess afterschool clubs. You know how it is, shes got him on her own.
Six hundred pounds, Andy. Over three months.
So what? Hes my son! Am I supposed to just let them get by?
Victoria set the statement down.
No, of course not. Its just strange you forgot to mention it.
I didnt forget! I just knew youd kick off about it!
That kick off stung, making Victoria sound petty, unreasonable, jealous.
Then there was the thing with his car.
Victoria got into the passenger seat, and there on the back seat was a childs drawinga house, some flowers, the sun. Three people. Dad, Mum, and James.
No sign of her.
Victoria picked up the picture. On the back, in wobbly writing: To Daddy from James. Our family.
Andy? she called softly.
Whats up?
Wheres this from?
He glanced at it. Oh, James drew it. Cute, isnt he? Proper little artist.
Victoria looked at the picture. Then at Andrew. Then back at the picture.
Andy. It says our family.
Well, yeah. Hes little. For him, familys me, Emma, and him. Thats how he sees it. Little ones perspective.
Victoria put the drawing back. Sat straight. Buckled up. Didnt say a word on the drive.
That was before Emma started turning up in person.
At first it was just to pick up Jamess things from Andys. Then to discuss summer holidays. Then, just dropping byhappened to be passing, thought Id pop in.
Emma was always polite. Smiled serenely. Friendly enough.
Victoria, hi! she beamed, as if they were old mates. Hope Im not intruding? Is Andy home?
And after those visits, Andrew would turn distant. Moody. Stare into space. Speak in monosyllables.
Whats wrong? Victoria would ask.
Nothing. Just tired.
Victoria began to feel like the third wheel. The obstacle.
One day, she overheard a phone call by accident.
Andrew was in the bathroom; he probably thought the door was shut. But it was slightly ajar, and Victoria heard:
Em, dont cry look, Ill help, you know I will. You know Im always here, just ring me.
His voice was gentle. Tender. Almost intimate.
Victoria slipped away from the door, collapsed onto the sofa and suddenly realised
Emma wasnt manipulating him.
He was letting her.
Because thats what suited him.
Victoria bottled it up for three days.
No shouting, no theatrics. She simply watched, closely, like a scientist studying a rare insect through a magnifying glass detached, calm.
And this is what she noticed.
Andrew knew Emmas schedule better than Victorias. When James was at nursery, when clubs were on, when Emmas GP appointments were. All logged in his calendar. But hed forgotten Victorias big day.
He was always messaging, the phone buzzing constantly. Hed seize it, scan the screen, swiftly type backhis face would soften, guilty, as though he was sneaking around.
One evening the phone rang while Andrew was in the shower. Victoria glanced at the screen.
Emma.
Her hand moved without thinking. She answered.
Andy? Emmas voice sounded small, on the edge of tears. Andy, can you come over? Please, Ive no one else to turn to. I feel so awful.
Victoria said nothing.
Andy? Are you there? Please. Youve always been there for me.
Victoria hung up, put the phone down, and laughed. Laughed and suddenly felt ridiculous.
How foolish shed been. How naïve and blind.
Andrew came out, towel around his waist, droplets in his hair.
Emma rang for you, Victoria said, quietly.
He froze.
You you answered?
Yes. Victoria stood and faced him. She was crying. Said you were always there for her.
He said nothing, searching for words. She could see him weighing up which way to play it.
Look, he began, Emmas having a really tough time right now. Shes on her own. Im all shes got. I cant just abandon her!
Abandon? Victoria let out a small laugh. Andy, you divorced Emma four years ago. Shes not your wife; shes your ex-wife. Youve already left her. Ages ago.
But we have a child!
So what does that mean? Victoria moved closer. That you must drop everything whenever she says the magic word James? That you secretly send her money? That you remember her schedule better than mine?
Youre exaggerating!
Me?!
Victoria felt something snap inside her. She grabbed her handbag, started packing.
You know, Andy, for so long I blamed Emma. I thought she was using you. That she was using your child as leverage. That she was the wicked ex who couldnt let go.
She paused, looking back at him.
But the truth isthe problem isnt her. Its you. You let her do it. In fact, you want it this way. Because it suits you best. You get to live two lives. The needy ex-wife, and the patient new partner. And you dont choose. Because thats easier.
Vic, dont go.
Im not leaving, Andy, she replied softly. Im stepping out. Finished with this triangle, where Im always on the outside. See, Im not going to fight your ex-wife. Im just done playing your game.
Andrew stood in the middle of the roomwet, bewildered, lost.
Vic, wait. We need to talk.
Theres nothing to talk about. Victoria zipped her jacket. You made your choice ages ago. I was just too blind to see it. But I see it now. Crystal clear.
She opened the door.
Goodbye, Andy. Give Emma my regards. Tell her she can ring you whenever she likes.
The door clicked shut.
A month later, Victoria sat in a coffee shop with Helen.
So how are you? her friend asked gently.
Im good, Victoria smiled. Really good.
And it was true. The first week had been rougha stabbing ache in her chest, the temptation to call, to text, to go back. But she held firm. Rented a tiny studio flat, took a part-time job, passed her dissertation.
Andrew had called. Many times. Sent frantic, muddled texts, apologising, explaining, begging.
Victoria, forgive me, I was a fool. I see it now. Please, can we start over?
Victoria never replied. She knew it was pointless. Because the problem had never been Emma. The problem was him. And until that changed, nothing else would.
Hows he doing? Helen asked.
Who?
Andy, of course.
Oh, Victoria shrugged. No idea. Were not in touch.
Helen was silent for a while.
Do you regret it?
Did she? Somehow, no. She felt something elserelief. Like finally taking off a heavy backpack shed lugged around for months.
I made a choice, Victoria finished her coffee. He never did. But I have.
Helen grinned.
Good for you.
Oh, its nothing, Victoria waved her off. Just grew up a bit, thats all.
Andrew found himself alone.
Oddly, Emma stopped ringing so often. It turned out that, with Victoria gone, the whole performance lost its edge. And when Andrew tried rekindling their old closeness, she gave him the cold shoulder.
You chose her back then, Emma said calmly. Get on with it. Ive sorted my own life now. I dont need your help anymore.
Andrew tried to win Victoria back. He waited outside her tiny flat, loitered by her office, sent long emotional messages. But she was resolute.
Andy, let me go, she told him the last time. And let yourself go, too. We dont fit. You want two lives. I want one. But a real one.
Victoria walked through the evening city, thinking how oddly life turns out. Shed spent so long dreading being alone, terrified of losing Andrew. But once she did, she realised she hadnt lost anything at all.
Because someone who cant choose will never give you anything real.
And all she ever wanted was something real.
Do you reckon he should try to win back his first wife now? Since it didnt work out with VictoriaHe stared at his phone long after Victorias number stopped ringing, the screen pale and empty as his flat, as his plans. There was a momenta pang when he considered calling Emma, telling her everything, asking if maybe, just maybebut her last words echoed louder than Victorias ever did. Get on with it.
So, instead, Andrew walked to the window, looked out at the city blinking against dusk, and wondered whose life he was really livinghis, or the shadows of the ones whod already left.
Victoria, meanwhile, stepped out of the coffee shop and into the moving crowd, the world full and humming. She smiled at the thought of her own small, bright futureundefined, yes, maybe uncertain, but finally, finally hers. With each step, she felt lighter.
And somewhere else, the phone that used to buzz day and night now lay silent on a kitchen table. Life, it seemed, went on for everyone. But for once, Victoria was willing to see where it would go, on her own terms.
That was enoughmore than enough, she decidedfor happiness.
