That Friday evening, as Emily trudged home from work, she had no idea her life was about to flip upside down. Pushing open the door of their London flat, she called out cheerfullysame as always”Darling, I’m home!”
Silence. An eerie, unnatural silence.
“Odd Hes usually back by now,” she thought, heading toward the bedroom. When she opened the door, her stomach dropped. There was Thomas, haphazardly stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
“Thomas What on earth are you doing?” she whispered, her throat tight.
“Leaving,” he said flatly, not even glancing her way.
“Leaving? Why? Whats happened?”
“All thisits your fathers fault,” he snapped, irritated.
“My father? Whats he got to do with anything?”
Emily was bafflednone of this made sense. Yet right before her eyes, the marriage shed poured love and patience into was crumbling.
Theyd met when Emily was twenty-eight. Thomas, eight years older, had been confident, charming, worldly. Back then, shed thought he was the one. Her family, her friendseveryone kept saying it was time to settle down, that her biological clock was ticking. So, naturally, she started sizing up every date as potential husband materialwhich, unsurprisingly, sent most of them running.
But Thomas was different. Theyd been introduced at a cosy London café through a co-worker, and the chemistry was instant. He was attentive, sweet. And when he discovered Emily owned her own flat in Kensington, drove a brand-new car, had a well-paid civil service job, *and* had a father who ran his own business? Well, suddenly, he was even more doting.
A year later, they threw a lavish weddingcompletely funded by her dad. Thomas didnt object. In fact, he happily accepted a job at one of his father-in-laws shops.
At first, their marriage seemed like a fairy taleholidays abroad, candlelit dinners, gifts. But there was one nagging detail: Thomas never spent a penny. *She* paid for everything. At first, she didnt mind. Then she started asking questions. Then pleading.
“Why am I carrying the whole burden?” she complained to her best mate. “Id like to feel cherished, you know?”
Thomas just laughed. “Stop stressing, love. Its fine. Dont make a fuss over nothing.”
At work, he did the bare minimum, glued to his phone, stashing his earnings in a secret account. Emily had no clue.
Then she fell seriously ill. Hospitalised for a month, she barely saw Thomasmeanwhile, her parents visited daily. When she finally came home? Disaster. The flat was a pigsty.
“You didnt even *clean*?” she gasped.
“Why would I? Thats womens work, isnt it?” he shrugged.
“I was in *hospital*, Thomas! And you couldnt lift a finger?”
“Well, youre back now. Sort it yourself.”
Exhausted, she hired cleaners. The doctors warned her: recovery would take a year. A baby? Out of the question.
A year later, when she finally got the all-clear, she broached the subject with Thomas, her voice trembling with hope.
“Can you believe it? We can try now We could finally have a baby!”
“Meh. Not now. Im busy,” he grunted, eyes fixed on his PlayStationthe one *shed* bought him.
Weeks passed. He avoided her. Then, one day, he dropped the bomb.
“Listen, Emily Im off. And a kid with you? Not interested.”
“*What*?!”
“I dont love you. Never did. You were just convenient. The flat, the money, the car. Now? Youre useless to me.”
“Thomas, youyou cant do this! After everything Ive been through, everything Ive waited for”
“Your problems, not mine. I do what I want.”
He zipped his suitcase, shoved his console inside, and walked out.
Emily barely moved for daysno sleep, no appetite. Three days later, her frantic parents came for her. Her father nearly exploded when he saw the state she was in.
They took her to their countryside home in the Cotswolds. Thomas was sacked that same evening. And thanks to a few well-placed calls, his father-in-law had his bank account frozen. Every penny hed hoarded? Gone.
Thomas ended up skint, jobless, homelessjust enough to rent a tiny bedsit. No clue what to do next.
Months later, Emily found a new job. There, she met Daniela bit older, but decent, steady, and he treated her with kindness from the start.
Six months after that? A little miracle: two pink lines on the test. Tears, laughter, the phone call to her parents and that fierce pride in knowing shed finally said, “*Enough.*”
