The Wife Without Status
Emily stood before the hallway mirror, adjusting her hair and giving herself one last critical glance. The new dress—deep blue, understated yet elegant—fitted perfectly. Modest heels, a matching handbag. Everything was just right for meeting her husband’s colleagues.
“James, I’m ready!” she called toward the study.
“Coming, love!” he replied, but the muffled sounds from the room suggested he was still on the phone.
Emily sighed. They’d be late again. She’d been so determined to make a good impression on these people James now worked with at his new firm. Three months had passed since he’d been promoted to deputy director, yet she still felt out of place at corporate events.
“Em, listen—” James finally appeared, buttoning his blazer on the way. “Andrew Thompson will be there with his wife—remember, I told you about him? He’s quite influential, so try to get along with his missus.”
“Of course,” Emily nodded. “What does she do?”
“No idea, really. Stays at home, I suppose. Or dabbles in charity work. Just chat her up, you’ll figure it out.”
He spoke distractedly, already preoccupied with other thoughts. Emily held back further questions.
The restaurant was softly lit, with quiet music playing in the background. Several couples were already seated around the large table. James immediately joined the men, leaving Emily to navigate her place among the wives.
“You must be Emily,” an elegant woman in her fifties said warmly. “I’m Victoria, Andrew’s wife. James has mentioned you.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Emily replied, offering her hand. “What exactly did he say?”
“Oh, just in passing. That he has a wonderful, supportive wife.” Victoria smiled, though her assessing glance lingered.
Emily sat beside her, sensing the unspoken tension. The other women were near Victoria’s age, all dressed expensively and tastefully.
“What do you do, Emily?” asked a slender brunette named Charlotte.
“I’m a freelance translator—mostly technical manuals.”
“How fascinating,” Victoria remarked, though her tone suggested otherwise. “Which languages?”
“French and German.”
“I see. Any children?”
“Not yet,” Emily replied, cheeks warming. The question always made her uneasy.
“Plenty of time for that!” chimed in a plump blonde. “I’ve raised three—all grown now. My eldest is in New York, runs his own business.”
The conversation flowed predictably: children, grandchildren, luxury holidays, shopping. Emily listened, interjecting occasionally, feeling increasingly out of place.
“So, Emily, which company do you translate for?” Charlotte asked suddenly.
“I work with various clients. Independently, mostly.”
“Ah, freelance,” Charlotte nodded. “Must be nice, working from home. Though I imagine the income’s unstable?”
“It’s steady enough,” Emily replied more sharply than intended.
“Of course,” Victoria said with that meaningless smile. “We ladies run a charity—supporting children’s homes, organising events. It’s very rewarding. Would you like to join?”
“I’ll consider it,” Emily said cautiously.
“Do think about it—though it does require time. Regular events, meetings. All of us here have the freedom to commit—husbands do rather well, you see.”
Emily nodded, understanding the implication. She wasn’t one of them. She had no time for charity, because she had to work. Therefore, she wasn’t a proper wife to a successful man.
“Everything alright, darling?” James whispered, leaning in with a hand on her shoulder.
“Fine,” she forced a smile.
“James, your wife is delightful,” Victoria declared. “We’ve just invited her to join our charity.”
“Brilliant idea!” James beamed. “Emily, you’ve been wanting something meaningful to do!”
Emily stared at him. When had she ever said that? If anything, she’d complained about workload and lack of time.
“I said I’d think about it,” she repeated.
“No rush, of course,” Victoria said. “Though there is a monthly membership fee—quite modest, for our circle. About five hundred pounds.”
Emily nearly choked on her wine. Half her income in a good month!
“Peanuts!” James waved dismissively. “You must join, Em. It’s for the children!”
The evening blurred. Emily smiled, pretended interest, but her mind raced. She remembered house-hunting last year—how proud she’d been when they could finally afford a home in a good area. How she’d celebrated James’s promotion.
Back then, they’d felt like a team. Now, she understood: James didn’t want a partner. He wanted an accessory.
At home, she retreated to the bedroom, removing her jewellery. James followed, loosening his tie.
“How was tonight?” he asked. “Victoria’s impressive, isn’t she? This charity could open doors.”
“James, why do I need those doors?” she turned to him. “I have my own work.”
“Work?” He raised an eyebrow. “Sitting at home translating? That’s not a career. This is about status, connections.”
“The status of a wife?”
“What’s wrong with that?” He gestured impatiently. “Those women are happy—charity, travel, glamour.”
“On their husbands’ money.”
“So? Husbands earn, wives spend. Normal division. I’d happily support you—you wouldn’t even need to work.”
She sank onto the bed, head in hands. How to explain that work wasn’t just income? It was self-respect.
“James, I won’t be your trophy,” she said quietly.
“What achievements, Em?” He laughed unkindly. “You translate instruction manuals!”
The words stung. She locked herself in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub.
Five years ago, James had been an ordinary manager in a rented flat. She’d been building her career, working twelve-hour days. They’d been equals. Now, he looked down on her.
The next morning, James left with little more than a goodbye. Emily lingered over coffee, watching life unfold outside.
Her phone rang—an unknown number.
“Emily? It’s Victoria. From last night. Could we meet?”
An hour later, in a nearby café, Victoria’s expression was unexpectedly kind.
“You seemed uncomfortable last night. I understand why.”
Emily waited, wary.
“Years ago, I worked—head accountant at a major firm. Loved it. Then Andrew got promoted. Earned vastly more. I was told: career or status. I chose status. And I regret it.” Victoria stirred her tea.
“At first, it thrilled me—travel, designer clothes. Then I realised: without him, I’m nothing. Just an ornament.”
“Why tell me this?”
“Because I don’t want you making my mistake. Last night, I saw how James looked at you when you mentioned work. That ‘why bother, when you have me’ look.”
Emily swallowed hard.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Don’t surrender. You have a profession, talent—value that. Real status comes from your own achievements, not being someone’s wife.”
Victoria, it turned out, secretly ran a small consultancy under the guise of charity.
“And your foundation?” Emily asked.
“Oh, it’s real. But the fee’s fifty pounds, not five hundred. I wanted to see James’s reaction. He didn’t even blink. Tells you where his priorities lie.”
That evening, James returned in high spirits.
“Andrew’s thrilled with you! Invited us to their country house this weekend.”
“Lovely,” Emily said calmly.
“Decided about the charity?”
“Yes. On my terms.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll translate for their projects—pro bono, but as a professional.”
“Ah. Well, that’s something,” he conceded weakly.
At the weekend, Emily spoke confidently about her work—the complex translations, international projects. For once, she saw genuine interest, not condescension.
“Actually,” Andrew said, “we need a German translator for our European partners. Fancy giving it a go?”
James gaped. “But Emily’s freelance.”
“Good work is good work,” Andrew shrugged.
On the drive home, James was quiet.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Emily asked.
“Just… didn’t expect Andrew to offer you a job.”
“Why not? I’m qualified.”
“Because I thought you’d prefer the charity.”
“James,” she said softly, “do you love me for me? Or for the role you want me to play?”
He frowned. “What kind of question is that?”
“If I quit work, just stayed home, would you love me more?”
“It’s not about love,” he snapped. “It’s about what’s suitable. Presentable.”
“Suitable,” she echoed.
That night, she lay awake, weighing convenience against authenticity. By dawn, she’d made her choice.
As James left for work, she said, “I’m taking Andrew’s offer.”
“Fine. Give it a go,” he muttered.
“And James—I won’t be a wife without status. I’The moment the door closed behind him, Emily picked up the phone and dialed Andrew’s number, ready to carve out her own place in the world.
