**Thursday, 12th October**
“Do you want sausages or scrambled eggs?” asked Catherine. Alex sat at the table, scrolling through his phone.
“Sausages. Just none of your experimental stuff,” he grumbled.
Catherine sighed. Little Sophie dozed in her arms, making cooking nearly impossible.
“Could you hold Sophie for a minute?” she asked carefully.
“Give me a second, just finishing this,” Alex dismissed her without looking up.
Sophie whimpered. Catherine tried to soothe her while flipping the sausages. One burned.
“Burnt again?” Alex wrinkled his nose. “Maybe pay attention next time?”
“Maybe you could help?” Catherine snapped, turning sharply.
“Here we go… For the record, I’m the one working, keeping this family afloat.”
“And what do I do? I work twenty-four hours a day. No weekends.”
Silently, she set a plate in front of him. Once, they’d been a proper team. Now it felt like she was dragging the weight alone.
Days blurred into weeks. One evening, Catherine finally spoke up.
“Alex, we need to talk. You’re always busy—work, games, your phone. What about me? What about Sophie?”
“Katie, not this again. I do everything for you two.”
“But it’s not enough. Family isn’t just money. It’s care, it’s time, it’s helping out.”
“That’s your job,” Alex shrugged.
“I need you to be part of this family. I’m tired of doing everything alone.”
“I’m knackered from work, Katie. I need my own time too.”
“What about mine?” Her throat tightened.
From the nursery, Sophie began crying. Alex didn’t move.
When Catherine returned to work, mornings started at five. Alex never lifted a finger at home. One evening, she was late leaving the office. The clock struck nearly nine as she unlocked the door. The flat was dim, the kitchen piled with unwashed dishes. Alex lounged on the sofa.
“Fancy making dinner?” he said instead of hello.
“Seriously? I’ve been late, and you couldn’t even wash a plate?”
“I’m tired.”
“Where’s Sophie?”
“Asleep. Ordered her pizza.”
Catherine walked to the kitchen, hands trembling. Later, checking her account, she found Alex had taken three grand from her savings for a new laptop without asking.
“What do you mean, *your* money?” he scoffed. “It’s *our* money.”
“Ours? Funny how you remember that when I ask for help.”
The final straw was Sophie’s birthday. Catherine spent a week preparing. Alex promised to leave work early.
“Sorry, stuck at the office. You’ll manage,” he texted an hour before.
Something inside her snapped. That night, tucking Sophie in, she made her decision.
Alex came home later than usual.
“Katie, iron my shirt for tomorrow. And where’s dinner?”
Slowly, she turned.
“Cook for yourself. Clean for yourself. Earn for yourself. I’m not your maid.”
She walked to the bedroom, pulled out a packed bag.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” Alex blocked the door.
“Not going. Finally *leaving*.”
“What’s the problem? We’re just like any normal couple—”
“Normal? Alone together? You checked out ages ago, Alex. I’m just the help.”
She stepped past him, lifted a sleepy Sophie from her cot.
“Stop!” He barred the way. “We’re a family!”
“Family? We stopped being that long ago.”
“Don’t. My mind’s made up.”
The tiny rented flat welcomed them with silence. Alex’s calls came in waves—anger, then pleading.
“I’ll change,” he swore.
“No, Alex. You won’t. Because you still don’t see what’s broken.”
Weeks passed. Catherine settled into her new life. She smiled in mornings again, felt lighter. Alex’s calls grew fewer. Once, he showed up at her work with flowers.
“Let’s try again. I get it now.”
“Too late,” she said softly. “Promises won’t fix this.”
The weight lifted. She took a course, saw friends, rediscovered herself. Now, falling asleep in that small rented room, she wasn’t lonely. She was free. And that—despite the fear—was worth every doubt.
**Lesson learned: Sometimes leaving isn’t giving up. It’s choosing yourself.**
