When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? John asked his wife. Her reaction was more surprising than he expected.
John was finishing his morning tea, quietly observing Emily. Her hair was tied up with a scrunchieone of those childish ones, printed with cartoon cats.
Anna from the flat next door, though, was always so put together, so lively. She had that particular scent of expensive perfume lingering in the lift long after shed left.
You know, John put down his phone, sometimes I think we live more like neighbours than husband and wife.
Emily stopped in her tracks, dishcloth frozen in her hand.
What on earth does that mean?
Its nothing, honestly. Just when did you last really look at yourself in the mirror?
This time she turned and looked at himproperly, with intent. John got the uneasy feeling that things werent going to go as planned.
When did you last really see me? Emily asked quietly.
An awkward silence hung in the air.
Dont make a drama of it, Em. Im just sayinga woman should always look stunning, shouldnt she? Its basic! I mean, look at Anna. Shes the same age as you.
Ah, Anna, Emily drew out, and something in her voice made John wary. It was as if shed suddenly understood something significant.
John, she said after a pause, lets do this: Ill move out for a bitgo stay with Mum. Ill think about what youve said.
If thats what you want. Lets take some time, give each other some space. Im not kicking you out!
You know, Emily said, hanging the dishcloth on the hook with deliberate care, perhaps I really do need to look in the mirror.
She started packing.
John sat in the kitchen, feeling something unfamiliar. Strangely, it wasnt reliefit was an empty sort of ache.
For three days John lived as if on holiday. Morning tea, no rush. Evenings, free to watch whatever he fancied. No more romantic dramas blaring from the living room.
Freedom, at last. The long-awaited male liberty.
One night, John met Anna at the entrance. She was carrying bags from Waitrose, heels clicking, her dress perfectly tailored.
John! she smiled. How are things? Havent seen Emily in a while.
Shes with her mum at the moment, he lied, effortlessly.
Ah. Anna nodded knowingly. Sometimes women need a breakfrom chores, from the routine, you know?
She spoke as if shed never scraped a pan or folded laundry in her life; as if her flat tidied itself and dinner appeared at a snap of her fingers.
Anna, fancy a coffee sometime? You know, just neighbours having a chat.
Why not? she replied. Tomorrow evening?
All night John plotted what to wear. Shirtblue or white? Jeans or trousers? Which cologne, so it wasnt too much?
In the morning the phone rang.
John? This is Sarah, Emilys mum.
His heart stuttered.
Yes, hello?
Emily asked me to let you know shell collect her things on Saturday, while youre out. Shell leave the keys with the concierge.
Butshes going to take her things?
How did you think this would go? The steel in her voice was unmistakable. My daughter wont spend her life waiting for you to decide if she matters or not.
But I never said
You said enough. Goodbye, John.
And she hung up.
John stared at his phone, bewildered. Theyd made all the decisionsand he hadnt even been consulted. This wasnt supposed to be a divorcejust a pause. Some time to think.
That evening coffee with Anna was pleasant enough. She chatted about her job in the bank, laughed at his jokes. But when he tried to take her hand, she gently pulled away.
John, Im sorryI cant. Youre a married man.
Technically, were living separately, he insisted.
Perhaps. But what about tomorrow? Anna looked at him, her gaze steady.
John walked her to her flat and went up to his own, greeted by the silence and the unmistakable scent of solo living.
Saturday came. John left deliberately, not wanting any tearful confrontations or explanations. Best for her to pack in peace.
But by mid-afternoon, curiosity gnawed at him. What had she taken? Everything? Only the essentials? What did she look like now?
At four, unable to resist, he headed home.
Outside stood a car with local plates. At the wheel, a man in his fortieswell-presented, friendly. He was helping someone load boxes.
John sat on a bench, waiting.
Ten minutes later, a woman in a blue dress emerged. Her dark hair was pinned back with a stylish clip. Subtle make-up highlighted her eyes.
John stared, unable to believe it. It was Emily. Butdifferent.
She carried the last suitcase, and the man swiftly assisted her, treating her as if she were made of glass.
John couldnt contain himself. He walked over.
Em!
She turned around. Her face was calm and radiantno sign of the weary exhaustion hed grown so used to.
Hello, John.
Is that… you?
The man in the car tensed but Emily soothed him with a touch. Its fine.
Yes, its mejust you havent looked at me properly in a very long time.
Em, can we talk? Please?
About what? Her voice wasnt angry, just curious. You said a woman should look amazing. Well, I took that to heart.
No, I meant
What did you mean? That I should be beautiful, but only for you? Interesting, but only at home? Should I learn to love myself, but not so much that I leave a husband who cant see me at all?
He listened, every word cutting deeper.
You know, she continued gently, Ive realisedI stopped caring for myself. Not because I was lazy, but because Id become invisible. In my own house, in my own life.
Em, I didnt mean
You did. You wanted an invisible wifesomeone who did everything yet never got in your way. And when you grew bored, you could upgrade to a flashier model.
The man in the car spoke quietly; Emily nodded.
We need to go, she told John. Alexanders waiting.
Alexander? The words stuck in his throat. Whos he?
A man who really sees me. We met at the gym. Theres a new fitness centre near Mums. Imagineat forty-two, Ive started working out for the first time.
Em, please. Lets try again. I was an idiot, I know it.
John, she looked him in the eye, when’s the last time you called me beautiful?
He couldnt remember.
And when did you last ask how I was?
John realised: he had lost. Not to Alexander, not to circumstanceto himself.
The engine started.
John, Im not angry with youhonestly. You helped me understand something important: if I dont see myself, no one else ever will.
She left.
John watched his life drive awaynot just his wife, but fifteen years of what hed thought was dull routine, but now knew had been happiness. Happiness hed never recognised.
Six months later, John bumped into Emily at the shopping centre. Pure chance.
She was choosing coffee beans, carefully reading the labels. Next to her was a young woman, maybe twenty.
Try this one, Emily suggested. Dad says arabicas better than robusta.
Emily? John approached.
She turned, greeted him with a relaxed, genuine smile.
Hello, John. Meet SophieAlexanders daughter. Sophie, this is John, my ex-husband.
Sophie nodded politely. A pretty student perhaps, eyeing John with curiosity.
How are things? he asked.
Good. And you?
Alright.
Silence crept in. What do you say to a woman whos utterly changed?
They stood by the coffee shelves, John studying Emily. Tanned, loose blouse, fresh haircut. Happytruly happy.
And you? she asked. Hows love?
Oh, not much to tell, he sighed.
Emily looked at him kindly.
You want a woman whos as stunning as Anna, as obedient as I used to be, intelligent but not so clever she notices youre always eyeing the next pretty face.
Sophie listened, wide-eyed.
You know, Emily went on, such a woman doesnt exist.
Sophie, shall we? she prompted. Dads waiting in the car.
Yes, of course. Emily picked out her coffee. Good luck, John.
They left, and John was left amid the shelves, realising she was right. He had spent years searching for a woman who wasnt real.
That evening, sitting alone with his tea, John thought about Emily and the person shed become. Sometimes, you only truly understand the value of something once its gone.
Perhaps real happiness isnt about seeking someone convenient, but about learning to seereally seethe person beside you.
