**Diary Entry 15th March**
“You’re smothering me,” said Edward, standing by the open suitcase.
Emily froze, the towel still in her hands. She had just stepped out of the shower and didnt grasp his words at first.
“What did you say?” she asked, adjusting her dressing gown.
“Exactly what I said. Youre suffocating me, Em. I cant live like this anymore.”
Edward methodically folded shirts into the suitcase without looking up. His hands were steady, his voice calm, as if reading the weather forecast.
“Ed, whats going on?” Emily stepped closer. “What are you talking about?”
“Im leaving. For good.”
“Leaving? Where? Why?”
Edward finally met her gaze. There was no anger, no regretjust exhaustion.
“To Mrs. Thompsons. She offered me a room to rent. Temporarily, until I find something permanent.”
Mrs. Thompson was their downstairs neighbour, a retired widow who made extra income by renting out her spare room to students.
“Ed, have you lost your mind?” Emily sank onto the edge of the bed. “Mrs. Thompson? What does she have to do with this?”
“Everything. Its quiet there. No one monitors my every move. No one interrogates me about where Ive been, who I spoke to, what I ate for lunch.”
“I dont monitor you”
“Dont you?” He turned sharply. “Who grilled me yesterday for being half an hour late? Who checks my pockets every evening? Who calls my office five times a day?”
Emily felt her face flush.
“I just worry about you. Thats normal for a wife.”
“Normal?” Edward scoffed. “Em, Im fifty-four. A grown man, capable of thinking for myself. Im tired of justifying every little thing.”
“But were a family! Seventeen years together!”
“Seventeen years of you treating me like a pet. Feed me, pat me, tuck me in.”
Emily shot up from the bed.
“How can you say that? I gave you everything! The home, the care!”
“You did,” he nodded. “And demanded receipts for every minute of it.”
“Thats not true!”
“It is. And Im ashamedashamed I let it go on this long.”
Edward shut the suitcase.
“Ed, lets talk properly,” Emily reached for his hand, but he pulled away. “If something bothers you, tell me. Ill change.”
“Too late. My minds made up.”
“But why now? What happened?”
He walked to the hallway for his coat. Emily followed, bewildered.
“Your sister Lucy called yesterday,” he said, lacing his shoes. “Asked how we were. I told her. Know what she said?”
“What?” Emily whispered.
“That youve always been this way. Even as a kid. Controlling everyone, dictating their lives. Shes amazed I lasted this long.”
“Lucy had no right”
“She did. Because shes right. I just didnt want to admit it.”
He lifted the suitcase and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Emily cried. “What about our plans? The cottage we wanted? Travelling when we retire?”
“What travels?” He paused. “You panic if I go further than Tesco. And the cottage? You fretted every time I went fishing.”
“I just cared”
“You didnt care. You owned me. Like property.”
That stung worse than anything.
“Its not fair,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I know. Thats what makes it so hard. You love me but wont let me live.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Later, flipping through photo albums, Emily realisedsomewhere along the way, her love had become a cage.
**Lesson learned:** Care without freedom isnt love. Its captivity. And no one thrives locked away, not even by the gentlest hands.
