While Katie was paying for the groceries, Ben stood off to the side. And when she started packing them into bags, he just walked right out of the shop. Katie stepped outside and approached Ben, who was having a smoke at the time.
“Ben, take the bags,” Katie asked, holding out two heavy shopping bags to her husband.
Ben looked at her like she’d asked him to do something illegal and replied, baffled, “Why don’t *you*?”
Katie froze, not knowing how to answer. What kind of question was that? Usually, a man would offer to help. And it just felt wrong—her struggling with heavy bags while he strolled along without a care.
“Ben, they’re heavy,” she said.
“So?” Ben kept resisting.
He could tell she was getting upset, but he didn’t want to carry the bags on principle. He sped off, knowing she wouldn’t catch up. *”Take the bags?” Who does she think I am? Some servant? A lackey? I’m the man here—I decide whether I carry bags or not! Fine, let her lug them herself, she won’t collapse over it!* That was his mood today—putting his wife in her place.
“Ben, where are you going? Take the bags!” Katie called after him, her voice cracking.
The bags *were* heavy. Ben knew it—he’d added most of the items to the trolley himself. Home wasn’t far, just a five-minute walk. But with heavy bags, it felt like miles. Katie walked home, fighting tears. She hoped Ben was joking and would come back. But no—he was already disappearing down the street. Part of her wanted to drop the bags, but she kept trudging forward in a daze.
At the front steps, she sank onto the bench, exhausted. She wanted to cry—from frustration, from the effort—but she held it in. You don’t cry in public. Still, she couldn’t swallow this—he hadn’t just hurt her, he’d humiliated her. And the worst part? He *knew* what he was doing. He used to be so attentive before they married.
“Hello there, love!” Mrs. Wilkins’ voice snapped her out of it.
“Hi, Mrs. W,” Katie replied.
Mrs. Wilkins—Margaret to her friends—lived downstairs and had been close with Katie’s grandmother before she passed. Katie had known her since childhood, treating her like family. After Gran died, when Katie faced the usual household struggles, Mrs. Wilkins was always there. No one else was—Katie’s mum lived in another town with her new husband and kids, and her dad was long gone. So Margaret was the only one left who felt like home.
Right then, Katie decided to give her the groceries. Why haul them all this way for nothing? Pension money didn’t stretch far, and Katie liked spoiling her with little treats.
“Let’s get these inside,” Katie said, picking the bags back up.
Up in Mrs. Wilkins’ flat, Katie left the bags, saying everything was for her. When Margaret spotted the tinned salmon, sardines, custard creams, and other little luxuries she could never afford, she got so emotional Katie almost felt guilty for not helping more often. After a warm goodbye, Katie finally headed upstairs.
The moment she stepped inside, Ben came out of the kitchen, chewing something.
“Where are the bags?” he asked, like nothing had happened.
“What bags?” Katie matched his tone. “The ones you *helped* me carry?”
“Oh, come on!” He forced a laugh. “You’re not seriously upset?”
“No,” she said calmly. “I’ve just made up my mind.”
That threw him. He’d expected shouting, tears, a row—not this quiet certainty. “About what?”
“I don’t have a husband.” She sighed. “Thought I married one, turns out I got stuck with a berk.”
“I don’t follow,” Ben said, pretending to be wounded.
“What’s not to get?” She locked eyes with him. “I wanted a man. Seems like *you* want one too—maybe you should go find one.”
Ben’s face darkened as his fists clenched. But Katie didn’t see it—she was already in the bedroom, packing his things.
He fought it every step of the way. Couldn’t believe she’d throw everything away over *this*: “We were fine! So you carried bags—so what?” he ranted as she tossed his clothes into a holdall.
“You can carry your own bag out, can’t you?” she cut in, ignoring him.
Katie knew this was just the start. If she let it slide now, it would only get worse. So she ended it right there—and shut the door behind him.
