His Ex
*”Thanks, darling! I don’t know what I’d do without you,”* flashed across the smartphone screen.
The phone vibrated in her hand. Emily instinctively glanced at the display. The sender was someone named *Mari*. The message ended with a flirty heart emoji.
Emily’s eyes widened. *Mari? Darling?* She might’ve dismissed it as a distant relative or colleague if not for one glaring fact—her husband didn’t know any *Mari*. Or did he?
She lifted her gaze sharply. She needed answers first, assumptions later. Still, jealousy pricked at her chest.
“Who’s Mari?” Emily fought to keep her voice steady.
William, sipping his tea, blinked in confusion.
“What?”
“Mari,” Emily clipped, holding up the phone. “Who is she?”
Her husband glanced at the screen, tension flickering in his eyes before he shrugged it off.
“Oh. That’s just Marina.”
Emily froze.
“Marina who?”
“Just… an ex. There’s nothing between us now.”
Slowly, she set his phone down and crossed her arms.
“Your ex calls you *‘darling’* and sends heart emojis while thanking you? Seriously?”
William shrugged again, as if it were nothing.
“Yeah, so? I helped her out. She needed money, I lent her some.”
A wave of anger crashed over Emily.
“You gave your *ex* money?!”
“Yeah, what’s the big deal?”
*”What’s the big deal?!”* she mocked. “Are you kidding? You think it’s okay to take from *our* joint account and send it to some Marina?”
He finally met her eyes.
“Emily, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. We’ve known each other forever. Why shouldn’t I help her?”
She laughed, but it was hollow.
“You’re married, William. *To me.* Yet you’re running back to the woman before me.”
He sighed impatiently, like he was explaining something obvious to a child.
“We didn’t end badly. She’s not a stranger.”
“And am I?”
William said nothing. Emily shook her head, exhaling heavily.
“How long has this been going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your *cosy little chats*.”
He looked away.
“We’ve always kept in touch. Even before you. I just didn’t mention it—didn’t want to upset you.”
Her insides turned cold.
“So you’ve hidden this for *two years*?”
“It wasn’t hiding! I just didn’t see the point in bringing it up. I’m not cheating on you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
She took a slow breath, biting back a scream.
“How often do you *help* her?”
“Now and then. Small things, mostly. Assemble a shelf, fix her laptop.”
“So my *husband* plays handyman for another woman?”
“Oh, come on!” he snapped. “I helped her, I lent her money! Is that a crime? I’d do the same for you!”
Emily looked at him coolly.
“If you don’t see anything wrong with this, we clearly have different ideas of marriage.”
She turned and walked out. Right now, she couldn’t bear to see his face.
The rest of the day blurred. Anger, hurt, confusion—she tried to think rationally, but one question looped in her mind: *How did I miss this?*
William didn’t act guilty. Now that she knew, he didn’t hide his ties to Marina—but acted like it was *nothing*.
Over the next fortnight, the pieces fell into place. Now that Emily knew what to look for, the pattern was obvious. Those late nights at work? Every few days, Marina *just happened* to have an emergency.
“Popping over to Marina’s tonight,” William said casually at dinner. “Her washing machine’s leaking.”
Emily set her fork down slowly.
“No repairmen in the city?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, is it so hard to help?”
“Not for you. But it’s hard for *me* to tolerate.”
“Here we go again!”
“Oh, *yes*,” Emily said icily. “Because your ex *coincidentally* needs saving every other day. Thank God you don’t have kids together.”
William gave her an irritated look but kept eating.
“What if it were someone else? A neighbour? My *mother*? Would you ban me from helping them too?”
“The difference is, *someone else* wouldn’t call you every other night.”
“Emily,” William sighed, pushing his plate away. “Honestly, you’re acting like I’m having an affair.”
“I don’t know if you are, but you’re acting *very* suspicious. And it’s making me nervous.”
He smirked.
“You don’t trust me.”
*”Do I have reason to?”*
Silence.
Three days later, Marina was back.
“Marina rang,” William said offhand. “Needs help moving a fridge.”
Emily turned slowly.
“You’re seriously about to drop everything and *drive her fridge*?”
“What’s the problem?”
“William, do you *really* not see the issue?”
“I see you making drama over nothing.”
“No, *you’re* the one making this a circus. And I don’t want front-row seats. If you’re so eager to play hero, why not move in with her? Save on petrol.”
“You’re *kidding*.”
“Dead serious.”
“So you’re kicking me out?”
“No, William. I’m giving you a choice. Be in *this* marriage, or be single. I don’t want to see you.”
She walked away. No more games. Maybe he thought *honesty* would smooth things over—but to her, it was betrayal.
Twenty-four hours passed without a word. Emily sat in the kitchen, staring at her phone. William hadn’t called. He’d left—not to Marina, but to a mate’s. Still, he’d *left*. She waited. Maybe he’d realise he’d gone too far?
Nothing.
On the second day, he strolled back in like nothing happened.
“Calmed down yet?” he asked, heading to the bedroom.
Emily turned slowly.
“That’s your solution? Disappear for two days and waltz back in like it’s nothing?”
William sighed, as if talking to her was torture.
“Emily, let’s be honest. You’re overreacting.”
She clenched her fists.
“I’m not overreacting. I just won’t be in a relationship with a third wheel.”
*”There is no third wheel,”* he snapped. “You’ve made this up in your head.”
“Fine,” she said, holding his gaze. “If you still don’t get it, here’s the deal: you either cut ties with Marina, or we divorce.”
He froze.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“You’d throw away our marriage over *baseless* jealousy?”
“I’ll walk away because I refuse to stay with a man who won’t set boundaries.”
He scoffed.
“So you’re really leaving?”
“I’ve already packed,” Emily said calmly. “I’ll stay with my parents. Think hard about what matters more—your wife or your ex.”
She grabbed her suitcase and walked out. William stood there, watching. He didn’t stop her. Didn’t say a word to make her stay.
*That* hurt the most.
A week passed. Emily waited for a call, a text, *anything*. Nothing came.
Her mother gave her a disapproving look.
“You’re being too harsh, love. He’s just kind—can’t say no.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“Kind? Or just not over his ex?”
“You’re too stubborn. Good men are hard to find these days. Maybe you should reconsider?”
Emily didn’t answer. It wasn’t just about Marina. He’d refused to even *try* understanding her.
On the tenth day, William finally called.
“So, you done sulking?”
She gripped the phone.
“You think I *stormed off* and just needed time to cool down?”
“Didn’t you?”
Emily closed her eyes. It was crystal clear now.
“William, do you even *know* why I left?”
“Over nonsense.”
She smiled bitterly.
“Right. If it’s *nonsense* to you, then let’s not waste time. I’m filing for divorce.”
Silence.
“Suit yourself.”
“Exactly. My choice now.”
She hung up. For the first time in ages, she felt *calm*. No more waiting, hoping, stressing. Just clarity.
Sure, it hurt now—but it wouldn’t last.
After all, when one door closes, another opens.
