“Natasha, I won’t stay married to your sonyou can tell him that yourself,” said Charlotte, her voice steady but cold.
“And who exactly will have you, then?” Natasha sniffed, crossing her arms. “Whod want a woman with a child in tow? I dont see a queue of princes waiting at the garden gate.”
Charlotte ignored her, methodically packing her daughters things. The essentials were already tucked into the bagjust enough to get by. The rest could wait.
Her movements were precise, deliberate. A warm jumper for Sophiecheck. Tiny shoesanother tick.
She hadnt shed a single tear. The sleepless night had been enough. The decision was made: she and Daniel were done.
She heard him come home late, stumbling through the flat. He peered into their bedroom, then pushed open Sophies door. Charlotte pretended to sleep.
In the morning, before leaving for work, he hesitated outside the nursery, shifting awkwardly before walking awayputting off the inevitable confrontation.
But thered be no confrontation. In half an hour, Charlotte would call a taxi and leave with two-year-old Sophie.
After last night, she never wanted to see Daniel again.
Shed grown used to him staggering home drunk every Friday. But last night was a Wednesday. Worse still, shed asked him to come home earlyjust this onceso she could meet her friend Emily, whod promised to help her find remote work.
She couldnt leave Sophie with him in that state. She called Emily to cancel.
That set him off.
“Who the hell are you calling? What meeting?” he snarled.
“Emily. I was supposed to see her, but I cant leave Sophie with you like this.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Look at yourself! Go sleep it offyouve got work tomorrow,” she said, turning toward the kitchen.
“Dont walk away from me!” He grabbed her wrist, fingers digging in. “Whats wrong with how I am, eh? Just a few pints with the ladsBillys birthday. Think youre too good for me, princess?”
She wrenched free. “Let go! Youre hurting me! Have you lost your mind?”
He staggered back, nearly tripping.
“Oh, thats it!” His fist flew before he could stop himself.
Charlotte clutched her face. He looked shocked, mouth openingbut she turned away, retreating to Sophies room.
“Too good for me, are you?” he shouted, slamming the door behind him.
“Princess.” Thats what his mother had called her from the start. Natasha had never approved.
“Twenty-one and still leeching off her parents? Studying? At her age, I already had one child and another on the way!”
“A husband, a home, responsibilities! But not heroh no, shes too busy being a princess. Youll regret this, Danny. You shouldve picked a simpler girl.”
Charlottes parents hadnt approved either.
“Slow down! Daniels not the last man on earth! If you love him, finesee each other. But marriage? Think: Can you really spend your life with him? Look at his family. Then decide.”
Shed decided. And within six months, she knew it was wrong.
She couldve leftbut pride stopped her. Admitting her parents were right? Unbearable. Then she fell pregnant.
Sophies arrival didnt change him. The housework, the childcarestill her burden alone.
Her exhaustion, Sophies teething, anythingnone of it excused an unmade dinner or unwashed dishes.
“Other women manage! What do you even do all daynap?”
“Sophies in painI cant cook with her screaming! Just order takeaway. Or hold her while I make something.”
The rose-tinted glasses shattered long ago. Her mothers warnings echoed louder each day.
She nearly left twice. Daniel swore hed change. She believed him. Hoped.
But last nighthis hands on herthat was the end.
Yes, facing her parents would be humiliating. But living with a man whod raise a hand to her? Unthinkable. And she refused to let Sophie grow up in that house.
Her mother saw the taxi pull up.
“James, lookCharlottes here. With bags. Help her with the suitcase.”
When Charlotte stepped inside and removed her sunglasses, her parents froze. Her left eye was swollen, the skin beneath mottled purple.
“Daniel did this?” her mother gasped.
Charlotte nodded.
“Ill kill him,” her father growled, lunging for the door.
“No, Dad.” She caught his arm. “Ill punish him my way. Just help me get our thingsSophies cot, everything.”
Her father and uncle went to the flat while her dad later took her to A&E.
“If you want to report him, the hospital note wont be enough,” her uncle warned. “Youll need a forensic exam.”
“Well go tomorrow,” her father said. “You have to book it.”
Daniel came home with flowers for Charlotte, a teddy for Sophieonly to find the flat empty. No clothes. No cot.
Charlottes phone was off. He called his mother-in-law.
“Yes, Charlotte and Sophie are here,” she said coldly. “And dont bother comingmy husbands fists are itching. Shell file for divorce herself.”
He kept calling. Even lurked outside her parents house. But Charlotte ignored him, only taking Sophie into the garden when the coast was clear.
A week later, divorce papers arrived. Then came NatashaDaniels last hope.
“I wont speak to her,” Charlotte said.
“At least hear her out,” her mother insisted.
“Divorcing him, are you?” Natasha sneered in the garden. “One little slap and you run?”
“Little?” Charlottes voice was ice.
“You pushed him! A man comes home tipsydont nag him! Wait till he sobers up!”
“And if hed hit Sophie next? Would that be little too?”
“Wholl want you now? A single mother? No princes lining up for you.”
“I dont need princes.”
“Then dont expect his flat or his money.”
“I dont want his flat. But Ill take every penny the court orders.”
And she did. The divorce was swiftthe medical evidence sealed it. Alimony, plus £400 a month until Sophie turned three.
Five years later, on the first day of school, Sophie fidgeted in her new uniform, clutching a bouquet. Charlottes parents stood proudly beside them.
“Will Daddy come?” Sophie asked.
“Hell be here,” Charlotte said. Then she wavednot at Daniel, but at Oliver, her husband of three years. They were expecting their second child.
Daniel was still alone. Thered been womensome he liked, some who liked him. But whenever things turned serious, someone always whispered why his first wife left.
Small towns have long memories. And his nickname”Armchair Boxer”stuck.
Maybe one day, a woman would overlook it. But not yet.
The boomerang always comes back. Even if not everyone believes it.
