You said today you married me because I was convenient! So what? He shrugged. Is that so bad?
Must you wear that old dressing gown again? Max grimaced as he glanced at Sophie, fastening his cufflinks like a soldier preparing for battle.
She stood motionless, the coffee cup in her hands. Steam curled thinly upward, scalding her fingers, but she didnt pull away.
Hes convenient.
Yes, convenient, he scoffed, adjusting his tie in the mirror. Like everything about you.
Sophie lowered her eyes. The coffee had stopped steaming. The surface had gone black, reflecting the ceiling like a broken little mirror.
Max, you
What? He was already jangling his keys, the metal clinking against his wedding ring.
Nothing.
The door slammed so hard the porcelain on the shelf trembled.
***
Theyd met at work. She was the quiet accountant who tied her hair in a messy bun; he was the loud, self-assured manager whose laughter echoed down corridors. Max courted her beautifullyroses with dewdrops on petals, candlelit dinners where hed order her a medium-rare steak without asking what she liked.
Youre not one of those women who fusses over little things, are you? hed asked on their third date, smoothing a napkin on her lap.
No, Sophie had smiled, ignoring the warning bells.
Good. My ex was always making scenes
She hadnt thought much of it. Then came the wedding, the children, the home. Everything as it should be.
Except when she tried on an off-shoulder dress, hed say,
Something plainer would suit you better.
Or when she touched up her lipstick in the mirror, hed mutter,
Why bother? Youre just staying in.
Once, when she bought a new floral perfume, he wrinkled his nose.
Smells like a cheap shop. Are you trying to be like Aunt Margaret from accounting?
She never wore it again.
For her birthday, he bought her a vacuum cleaner.
The old ones squeaky, he explained as she unwrapped it. Youre always sighing when you clean.
She thanked him. Then she stared out the window a long while, until the children called her to cut the cake.
But she stayed quiet. Because he was, after all, a good man. Didnt hit her, didnt drink, brought home money.
Wasnt that enough?
***
Did you ever love me?
The same evening. The same conversation. Max looked away, as if checking the window latch.
Of course I did. Youre the perfect wife.
Thats not an answer.
He sighed, as if explaining the alphabet to a child.
Sophie, 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 like she was seeing him for the first time: the tan on his neck from tennis with colleagues, not her. The crease between his browsnot from worry, but irritation at having to justify himself.
What about Kate?
Maxs 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 feeling than in all their years. But you couldnt build a proper life with her.
Something inside Sophie snapped, quiet as a broken heel. You could keep walking, but never the same way again.
So I was the obedient substitute.
Stop being dramatic, he waved a hand, swatting at a fly. Weve got children. A home. What more do you want?
***
She hesitated.
Maybe he was right? Maybe love was a luxury, and family mattered more? Sophie stood by the window, watching raindrops smear the glass. Her reflection showed fingerprintsshed been here so often lately, as if waiting for the world outside to give her an answer.
Max, meanwhile, carried on as if nothing had changed.
A week later, seeing she hadnt protested, he stopped pretending entirely.
Pasta again? He poked his fork as if dissecting evidence of her failure. Couldve at least added seasoning.
You said you didnt like spice, she replied, her voice distant, like someone else was speaking.
So what? He pushed the plate away like it was rubbish. Kate always used to
Sophie stood abruptly. The chair screeched, leaving a scratchanother mark in the house, another invisible crack.
Go to Kate, then!
Oh, dont start, he laughed, and it cut deeper than a shout. Where would I go? You know Im comfortable with you.
Then she 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 outfitsjust walked past, not looking. How his gaze slid over her, as if she were furniture. How his calm stretches lasted weeksno arguments, no complaints, just nothing.
And the worst part? That nothing was louder than any scream.
Clutching the kitchen counter, she realised: he wasnt even angry. Just waiting for her to give in. Like she had with 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 turned.
Not pain, not ragefreedom.
Because if they dont love you but still get angry, you still exist.
But if they dont even bother to be angry?
Then youre already gone.
***
A month later, she filed for divorce.
Max didnt believe it at first. He found her in the kitchen, packing the childrens clothes into boxes, and froze in the doorway as if she were a stranger.
Youre serious? His voice wavered for the first time in years.
Sophie didnt look up, carefully folding tiny jumpers.
Yes.
Over nothing? He stepped forward, and her shoulders tensed.
Its not nothing, she said softly. Im not furniture.
He laughedsharp, nervous.
Always so dramatic.
Finally, she met his eyes. His face was painfully familiar, but now she saw it differently: the tight lips, the narrowed eyeshe was furious, not at losing her, but at his convenient world cracking.
Im just tired of being convenient.
Max hesitated, then snatched his keys.
Fine! You think Ill struggle? He eyed the boxes. You cant even cook properly.
She flinchedthe old, familiar sting. Once, it wouldve made her doubt herself. Now? It rang hollow.
Maybe, she agreed. But someone else disagrees.
His face twisted.
Ah, so thats it! Youve got someone, havent you? He smirked. Look at youwhod want you now?
Her chest tightenedthe old, familiar pain. She almost said, *Youre right, Im sorry*, like she had a hundred times before.
Then she realised: she didnt want to anymore.
Me, she said firmly. I want me.
Max stilled. He hadnt expected that.
Youve lost it, he hissed. What about the children? Dont they matter?
She closed her eyes briefly. The children Yes, she thought of them every second.
Theyll learn what self-respect looks like.
Oh, spare me! He waved a hand. Youre selfish. Weve got a home, money And youll throw it away for nonsense?
Sophie looked at him and realised: he truly didnt understand. To him, it really was nonsense.
To you, yes, she said. To me, no.
He turned away, tapping his keys against his palm.
Fine. Youll regret this.
On the day she collected the last of her things, Max suddenly asked,
Do you really think youll find someone better?
She paused at the door, feeling the breeze on her face.
Better? she echoed. I dont know. But at least someone wholl see me, not an empty space.
He said nothing.
She stepped outside, where the air smelled like rain and freedom.
***
Two years passed.
Sophie went on to marry a man who kissed her shoulder each morning, even when she grumbled it was too early. Who whispered, *Youre beautiful*, when she was in an old dressing gown,
