Oliver sits in his armchair, staring at the floor. His head pounds from the argument, and anger still simmers in his chest. He feels lost and hurt. Oliver came home late, exhausted after a grueling day at work—his mind filled with reports, deadlines, and endless stress. When he saw the mess in the flat, his patience snapped.
“Emily, why can’t you just tidy up after yourself?!” he shouts without thinking. “Is it really that hard?”
His voice echoes through the room, and Oliver instantly feels the air between them grow heavy. Emily replies coldly, almost indifferently, but he catches the tears welling in her eyes. He wants to say something soothing, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he keeps yelling, pouring out all his frustration.
Emily sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes red from crying, her heart beating fast, as if trying to break free. She clenches her fists, feeling anger rise inside her, filling every inch of her body. Just yesterday, she was happy—but now everything has changed. This was just another row, one that seemed to crush all her hopes.
“Why?” she whispers to herself, her head spinning with emotion. “Why do men think we exist to serve them?”
It feels like every day, Emily faces the same problem: her boyfriend expects her to handle everything for him. And when she tries to explain that she’s tired too, that she wants care in return, his response is always the same—shouting, blame, cruel words.
Her gaze falls on the pile of laundry she was planning to wash this morning. But it doesn’t matter now. Oliver’s words echo in her mind: *”Have you got nothing better to do?”* *”As usual, you’ve forgotten about me!”* They’ve become as routine as morning tea, but today they leave an especially bitter taste.
“I shouldn’t have to explain myself,” Emily mutters, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face looks weary, but her eyes burn with determination. “I work just as hard as he does. My money is my own!”
She remembers her recent purchase—a beautiful dress she’d wanted for ages. The joy didn’t last. The moment Oliver found out she’d spent money on herself, there was another scene. *”Selfish! You only think about yourself!”* The words still sting.
But what angers her most is that he never tries to understand her. All he sees are his own needs. His things are scattered everywhere, yet somehow it’s her job to pick them up. All these little things pile into one big problem, eating away at their relationship from the inside.
“Enough,” she says aloud, shaking her head. “I deserve better. I’m not here to be anyone’s maid. I want to live my own life, not just bend to someone else’s expectations.”
Emily stands and walks to the window. She knows it’s time to decide. She can’t keep tolerating this. It’s time to reclaim her freedom, her right to make choices for herself.
“Tomorrow,” she decides firmly. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell him everything. Let him learn to handle his own mess. Let him see what it’s like to be on his own.”
That night, she tosses and turns, unable to sleep. Her thoughts race toward the future. Emily imagines starting over—going where she pleases, buying what she likes, without guilt weighing her down. For this first time in ages, she feels light, despite the difficult conversation ahead.
The next morning, she wakes before the alarm. Her eyes land on the stack of ironed shirts she folded yesterday. *”This is the last time,”* she thinks, putting them away. Today marks the beginning of a new chapter. It won’t be easy, but Emily knows it will lead her where she belongs—somewhere she’s loved for who she truly is.
