You said today you married me because I was convenient! So what? He shrugged. Is that so bad?
Are you really wearing that old dressing gown again? Maxim glanced at Sophia with disgust, fastening his shirt cuff like he was adjusting armour before battle.
She froze, coffee cup in hand. Steam curled upwards, scalding her fingers, but she didnt pull them away.
Its comfortable.
Yeah, comfortable, he scoffed, straightening his tie in the mirror. Like everything else about you.
Sophia lowered her eyes. The coffee had stopped steaming. The surface had turned black, reflecting the ceiling like a broken mirror.
Max, you
What? He was already jingling his keys, the metal clinking against his wedding ring.
Nothing.
The door slammed so hard the porcelain on the shelf rattled.
***
Theyd met at work. Shea quiet, unassuming accountant who tucked her hair into a messy bun. Hea self-assured manager whose laughter echoed down corridors. Maxim courted her beautifully: roses with dew on the petals, candlelit dinners where he ordered her steak medium-rare without asking what she liked.
Youre not the type to fuss over little things, right? hed asked on their third date, smoothing the napkin on her lap.
No, Sophia had smiled, ignoring the warning bells.
Good. My ex was always making scenes
She brushed it off. Then came the wedding, the children, the house. Everything as it should be.
Except when she tried on an off-shoulder dress, hed say:
Something simpler would suit you. Thats not your style.
Or when she applied lipstick, hed murmur:
Why bother? Youre just staying home.
Once, when she bought new perfumea light floral scenthe wrinkled his nose:
Smells cheap. Like something from a pound shop.
She never wore it again.
For her birthday, he bought her a vacuum.
The old ones falling apart, he explained as she unwrapped it. Youre always sighing when you clean.
She thanked him. Then stared out the window until the children called her to cut the cake.
But she stayed silent. Because he was, after all, a good husband. Didnt drink, didnt hit her, provided for them.
Wasnt that enough?
***
Did you ever love me?
The same evening. The same conversation. Maxim glanced away, as if checking the window was locked.
Of course Youre the perfect wife.
Thats not an answer.
He sighed, as if explaining basic maths.
Sophia, why are you making a fuss? Everythings fine.
Fine?! Her voice shook, not with tears but with fury finally breaking free. You said today you married me because I was convenient!
So? He shrugged. Whats wrong with that?
She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time: that tan on his neckfrom tennis with colleagues, not her. That crease between his browsnot from worry, but irritation at having to justify himself.
What about Kate?
His face twitched, as if tugged by an invisible string.
Whats she got to do with this?
You loved her.
Yes, he admitted sharply, and in that one word was more emotion than in all their years together. But she wasnt wife material.
Something inside Sophia snappedlike a broken heel. You could still walk, but never the same way again.
So I was the obedient, practical replacement.
Dont be dramatic, he waved a hand, swatting at a fly. We have children. A home. What more do you want?
***
She hesitated.
Maybe he was right? Maybe love was a luxury, and family mattered more? Sophia stood by the window, watching raindrops smear the glass. Her reflection showed fingerprintsshed stood there so often lately, as if waiting for the world outside to give her an answer.
And Maxim Maxim carried on as if nothing had changed.
A week later, seeing she hadnt protested, he stopped pretending altogether.
Pasta again? He prodded his fork, as if dissecting proof of her failure. Couldve at least added seasoning.
You always said you hated spicy food, she replied, her voice distant, as if someone else were speaking.
So what? He pushed his plate away like it was garbage. Kate used to make
Sophia stood abruptly. The chair screeched, leaving another scratch on the flooranother invisible crack in their home.
If you want Kate, go to her!
Oh, come off it, he laughed, and that laughter cut deeper than any shout. Where would I go? You know Im comfortable with you.
In that moment, she finally understood.
He wasnt even trying to keep her. Not because he trusted her love, but because he trusted her obedience.
She saw it everywhere now.
In how he no longer corrected her wrong outfitsjust walked past without looking. In how his gaze slid over her, as if she were part of the furniturea sofa no one sat on anymore. In how his calm days stretched into weeksno arguments, no complaints, just nothing.
And the worst part? That nothing was louder than any scream.
Standing in the kitchen, gripping the counter, she realised: he wasnt even angry. He was just waiting for her to accept it. Like shed accepted the vacuum instead of a gift. Like shed stopped wearing perfume. Like she wasnt the type to fuss over little things.
Then something inside her flipped.
Not pain, not ragefreedom.
Because if someone stops loving you but still gets angry, you still exist.
But if they stop being angry too
Youre already gone.
***
A month later, she filed for divorce.
Maxim didnt believe it at first. He walked into the kitchen where Sophia was packing the childrens things and froze, as if facing a stranger.
Youre serious? His voice wavereduncertain for once.
She didnt look up, carefully folding tiny jumpers.
Yes.
Over something this stupid? He stepped forward, and she tensed.
Its not stupid, she said quietly. Im not furniture.
He laughedsharp, nervy.
Oh, here we go! You always exaggerate.
Sophia finally looked at him. His face was painfully familiar, but now she saw it differently: tightened lips, narrowed eyeshe was furious, but not because he was losing her. Because his convenient world was cracking.
Im not exaggerating, she said. Im just tired of being convenient.
Maxim was silent, then snatched his keys from the table.
Fine! You think Ill struggle? He eyed the boxes. You cant even cook properly.
She flinchedan old, familiar sting. Once, those words wouldve made her doubt herself. Now they rang hollow.
Maybe, she agreed. But someone else thinks differently.
His face twisted.
Oh, I see! Theres someone else, is there? He smirked. Look at yourselfwhod want you?
The old ache tightened inside her. She almost opened her mouth to say, “Youre right, Im sorry,” like she had a hundred times before.
But then she realised: she didnt want to anymore.
Me, she said firmly. I want me.
Maxim froze. He hadnt expected that.
Youve lost it, he hissed. What about the kids? Dont you care?
She closed her eyes for a second. The children Yes, she thought of them every minute.
Theyll learn what self-respect means, she replied.
Oh, spare me! He threw up his hands. Youre selfish. We have everythinga home, security And youll throw it away over nothing?
Sophia looked at him and realised: he truly didnt understand. To him, it *was* nothing.
To you, maybe, she said. Not to me.
He turned away, tapping his keys against his palm.
Fine. Youll regret this.
The day she collected her last things, Maxim suddenly asked:
So what, you think youll find someone better?
She paused at the door, feeling the breeze on her face.
Better? She smiled. I dont know. But at least someone who sees *me*, not an empty space.
He said nothing.
And she stepped outside, where the air smelled like rain and freedom.
***
Two years passed.
Sophia remarrieda man who kissed her shoulder each morning, even when she grumbled it was too early. Who whispered, “Youre beautiful,” when she was in an
