**Too Late to Turn Back**
Doctor Wilson gave her a reassuring smile as he held the door open. “Well then, Victoria Elizabeth, we’ve patched you up. Just mind the advice—don’t push yourself too hard now.”
Victoria swallowed hard. The hospital stay hadn’t been pleasant, but in a way, it had been a relief. At last, she’d had a proper rest. The past few years had been nothing but exhaustion—working like a packhorse, never daring to ask for a day off. The headaches, the dizziness, the fatigue—she’d ignored it all until her body gave out. A nervous breakdown, heart trouble, a month in hospital, and her mother nearly collapsing from worry beside her.
Meanwhile, her husband, Geoffrey, might as well have not noticed she was gone. Or perhaps he genuinely hadn’t—the moment Victoria left, his mother had moved in, pots, rags, and sermons in tow.
“Oh, Vicky dear, you must understand—our Geoff is like a little boy! Who else will look after him? Your mother has you, and I’ll take care of my darling son,” his mother cooed over the phone.
Victoria gritted her teeth. Years of teaching Geoffrey to be independent, to help around the house—gone in an instant, dissolved like sugar in tea. Now she was the wicked witch again, while his dear mother played the fairy godmother, “saving” him from his cruel wife. As if she hadn’t been the one carrying them both for years.
The early days of their marriage flooded back—horrible years of his mother’s suffocating presence. She’d even called them in bed once. “Are you two asleep? Or is something… not as it should be?” Chilling.
And yet, they’d met in such a ridiculous way. Victoria had stormed out after a row with a so-called friend who’d betrayed her. Stomping down the pavement, cursing life’s unfairness—when suddenly, a man nearly fell out of a tree in front of her. Or rather, the branch did. She’d looked up to find Graham, stuck.
“Are you mad? Trying to break your neck?” she’d snapped.
“Was rescuing a cat!” he’d grumbled.
No cat, of course. Marmaduke had scarpered, but Graham stayed. Victoria fetched a ladder and rope, helped him down. That was how they met. How their story began—lovely, but rotten underneath.
After the wedding, she quickly realised her husband wasn’t just helpless. He was a child. Couldn’t wash a dish or take out the rubbish without whining. She shouldered it all—mortgage, work, her sick mother. He just complained to his mum, who then scolded her. So Victoria set out to civilise him. And, admittedly, she’d done well.
Graham had changed. Learned to cook, clean, even took initiative. His mother retreated—though she still wept in corners over her “poor boy.” But it was under control. Until the hospital.
Now it was back to square one. Victoria rang her husband—silence. Strange. Mondays were his day off; he should’ve been awake by now. Tried his mother—no answer either. Her stomach twisted. She hailed a taxi home, dread gnawing at her.
Key in the lock—and the door swung open before she could turn it. A stranger stood there.
“Who are you?” Victoria asked, icy.
“Marissa. Graham’s *real* partner. And you, love, don’t live here anymore. So be a darling and vanish.”
Victoria froze. Before she could process it, the door slammed.
“I’ll fetch your things,” came the voice inside.
Minutes later, bags tumbled out one by one. Stepping lightly on the mistress’s foot, Victoria perched on her tartan suitcase and dialled the police. She hadn’t slaved all these years to hand everything over to a traitor.
When the constables arrived, she threw them both out—husband and his little “Daisy.” Graham stayed mute, but his new lady had opinions.
“This is his flat too! You can’t just chuck us out!”
“I can,” Victoria said calmly. “It’s in my name. Go cry to Mummy.”
The door shut behind them. For the first time in years, she breathed freely. Air out the rooms, bin the bedsheets, file for divorce. At first, it hurt. Then—it didn’t.
A month later, lounging in bed on a lazy Sunday, her phone rang.
“Geoffrey,” she muttered to herself, then answered.
“Vicky, darling… I miss you. No one loves me here. It’s all Mum’s fault. Forgive me. Take me back…”
Victoria listened in silence. Then burst out laughing.
“You’re serious? After all that?”
He babbled on like a schoolboy. She switched off the phone, sank into the pillows, and smirked.
“Well then,” she told herself. “I thought my life was over. Turns out—it’s only just begun.”
