The perfect husband? How a single sentence shattered a marriage built on indifference
Emilie came home lugging two heavy bags. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than a voice called from the living room:
Are you finally here? Is it already six?
Its seven, she replied wearily, heading toward the kitchen.
Three tea cups on the table hinted at a recent visit. Her motherinlaw had been there, likely with her sister Agathe. Emilie wasnt surprised; unannounced dropins, critiques about her unfeminine manners, disapproving glances, and the lingering presence of an outsider had become routine.
Where have you been all this time? Im starving, Romain said without looking away from his computer.
I stopped at the supermarket. To feed Her Majesty, she retorted sarcastically. Anyway, we need to talk.
He brushed off her comment. She turned her chair toward him and said calmly:
We have to get a divorce.
Romain stared, puzzled:
What? Why?
Because I cant take it anymore.
Emilie, why dont you make dinner first? We can discuss it afterward. Im dying of hunger.
No. Were talking now.
Listen, you know I dont drink, I dont go out, I dont hang around anywhere. I stay home, I work, I earn enough. I never ask you for anything. What are you missing?
She burst into a bitter laugh:
You live in my flat, you dont pay rent or bills I handle that. The shopping, the cleaning, the cooking all me. So whats the point of your money?
Uh I bought a sweater. I downloaded an update for my game. I give a little to Mom and Aunt Agathe sometimes. Thats normal, right?
Sure, very normal. Except this morning I asked you to hang the laundry. Its still in the machine.
I was on a break
Changing activities is also a form of rest.
But I dont know how. Mom and Agathe never let me near the stove or the vacuum.
I know. You dont know how to do anything. Handy, isnt it? From today on, if youre hungry, figure it out yourself. Im not cooking anymore. Some friends invited me to a café Id refused, but Ill go now. Good luck.
She got up, spread the laundry, gestured sharply toward the kitchen and left. At the café, wine glass in hand, her phone buzzed with her motherinlaws number. She silenced it and slammed the screen onto the table.
When she returned, Colette Michaux was waiting in the apartment.
Emilie! What were you thinking? A divorce? Do you even realize what a man you have? Men like him are extinct! He doesnt drink, he doesnt cheat, he never leaves his socks lying around! Women are jealous of you!
Emilie stared at her calmly:
You praise him as if he were a perfectly trained dog. He does nothing wrongthats all you list. But can you tell me anything he does right, for me?
He works.
I work too. Plus I clean, wash, iron, cook, haul heavy bags, pay for everythingfor both of us. And what does he do?
He gives you gifts! I know that! I help him choose them!
Ah, thats why I got a footbath bucket for Christmas and a wool scarf for my birthday.
You probably want gold? her motherinlaw sneered.
A spa voucher or a weekend by the sea wouldnt have been refused. But no, I get a scarf, contempt, and the perpetual I dont know how. Im done playing mother for him.
Thats just how he is. In our family, men dont act like that.
Exactly. You raised a man who expects everything to be served to him, and hes comfortable with it. Im not.
Couldnt you try something before divorcing? Teach him
Sorry. Im not interested in teaching an adult man how to be a man. I tried for a year and a half. No more. Pack his thingsleave together wherever you please. Im not cruel, just exhausted.
Half an hour later a taxi waited outside the building.
