A lazy Sunday morningno need to rush out of bed. No one to make breakfast, no plans for the day. After lingering under the covers a little longer, Emily got up, showered, and sipped her coffee. Now what? How to kill time? Her friends were busy with husbands and kids. Visit her parents? Her mum would just harp on about how shed made a huge mistake.
A dull ache settled in her chest. Emily already knew shed messed up by divorcing, but whats the point of putting out a fire when the house has burned down? Truth be told, David hadnt been a terrible husband. Didnt drink, didnt cheat, wasnt picky about food. She couldve served him anything, and hed have eaten it without noticingtoo glued to his computer.
He worked late into the night, slept till noon. Dragging him out was a mission. At parties, he was bored. At the cinema, he napped. Out on walks, he just wanted to hurry home to his screen.
By the time he went to bed, Emily was getting up for work. And when they *did* sleep together, it was over in secondslike he was sprinting. After three years of marriage, she still hadnt gotten pregnant, though neither had fertility issues.
The lack of a kid wasnt the only reason she left. She was just tired of talking to the back of his head. She saw his back more than his face. How do you build a life with someones back? Might as well adopt a catfeed it, clean up after it, and instead of Davids absent *uh-huh*, shed hear purring. Not much difference, really, except the cat mightve shown more affection.
But to her mum, being married still meant something. A divorced woman? That raised eyebrows.
*Millions of women wouldve killed for a husband like that. And you threw it away. What more do you want?* her nan had snapped.
No onenot even her matesunderstood. Their husbands were *normal*. Worked nine-to-five, slept with their wives at night, so kids came easilytoo easily, sometimes. They fought, made up, got jealous, nagged about one too many pints, then nursed hangovers with a fry-up the next morning.
Emily and David had been in the same class, known each other eleven years. Hed been a proper nerd, always buried in books. By sixth form, it was computers. She and the other girls used to giggle at the lanky guy with glasses. When he talked tech with the lads, it might as well have been another language.
Years after school, they bumped into each other. David had grown into himselfcontacts instead of glasses, actually handsome. He knew loads, and Emily loved to listen. And listen she did. They started dating. Three weeks in, he proposed, awkward and matter-of-fact.
*Look, why are we acting like teenagers? Lets just get married.*
*Alright then,* shed laughed.
*Mum, hes clever, interesting,* shed said, defending him.
*But do you love him?* her mum had asked.
Emily had been baffled. Theyd known each other forever, had funlove? They never talked about love. But if he proposed, surely he loved her. Right? Their marriage felt like friendshipjust with shared bedsheets.
Her mum never liked David, was shocked by the divorce. But the news still went down like a lead balloon.
*Have you lost it? Doesnt drink, stays in, brings home a wageand youre dumping him? Where dyou think youll find better? Shouldnt have married him if you were gonna bail. Spoilt, thats what you are. Shouldve had a kid, then you wouldnt be so restless. Suppose well never get grandkids now*
Emily stayed quiet. Shed have a baby *now* ifbut *if*s didnt change anything.
David had been genuinely shocked when she asked for the divorce. Didnt argue, just packed his stuff and moved back to his mums. His mother rang immediately, screeching about how Emily was a flighty, ungrateful waste of space. Emily hung up. The divorce was quickno kids, and she gladly let him keep the computer.
At first, relief. Then loneliness crept in. Autumn made her want to hibernate, and the flat felt like a prison. A long, cold winter stretched ahead. She missed David. At least hed been *there*, someone to care about. But what good was regret?
Her mum kept ringing, trying to set her up. Emily always said no.
She wasnt the only divorcee. People moved on, met someone better. But how do you meet anyone when you never leave the house?
One day, a mate signed her up for a dating site. Made her pose, pout*Look sexy!* As if Emily knew what *sexy* even looked like. Shed played along, half-hoping to make David jealous.
Curious, she logged back in. Men everywhere. Handsome, average, young, oldertake your pick.
She scrolled through womens profiles. Every one bragged about being a *perfect* homemakersewing, cooking like a Michelin chef, glam job, own a flatjust missing *love*.
Emily had no talents. Couldnt sew, hated the gym. Stuck for what to write, she remembered David loved how she listened. Men liked to talk, spin yarnsand loved an audience. So she wrote: *Good listener.*
Messages flooded in. All these fit blokeswhy were they even *on* here? One stood out: stubble, piercing eyes.
An hour of flirty chats later, he suggested meeting.
*Bit soon, isnt it?* she typed.
*Why wait? Lets not waste time,* Daniel replied.
(Fake name, probably. Fake photo, too.) But his logic made sense. No long-distance dramajust a café nearby.
*How about today? Unless youre busy?*
She wasnt.
*An hour. The Copper Kettle. See you there.*
She raced through her wardrobethen stopped. Let him see her as she was. Jeans, a fitted jumper that showed off her figure (childbirth hadnt touched her). Mascara, hair downshe liked it.
He was waiting outside. Looked just like his photo. The café was quiet. Coffee for him; she skipped the cake.
Daniel studied her openly. She shivered under his gaze.
*Disappointed?*
*No. Thought youd be older.*
*What, you into pensioners now?* she shot back.
He laughed*properly*. Most men either giggled or brayed. His laugh was nice. *Hes alright,* she thought, dropping her eyes.
He talked. Nothing groundbreaking. But the more she listened, the more she liked him. Confident, but not arrogant.
Her own story was short: job, divorced
*All the interesting stuffs ahead,* she said.
He laughed again.
Yeah, she fancied him.
*More coffee?* he asked. *Or my hotel?*
*What?* (She knew.)
*Were adults. Its gonna happen. Why wait?*
*Is this a test?* she wondered. *See how far Ill go to snag a husband?*
*Fine. Lets go.*
In the hotel room, he sat on the bed. She stayed standing, coat still on.
*Keeping it on?* he teased.
*Im not sure Im ready*
She wanted to bolt.
*Then why come?* No annoyance in his voice.
*Dunno. Thought you were joking.*
*Fair. Ill take you home.*
They stood close. Awkward.
*You paid for the room*
*Staying, then?*
*Hes toying with me.* She wanted himhadnt felt like this in ages. But shame prickled. She wasnt *that* kind of woman.
*Weve just metwhat if one of us has something?*
*Next time, then?*
He laughed. His nearness, his gazegoosebumps.
He drove her home. Didnt ask for her number.
*Arrogant bastard. And I acted like a schoolgirl,* she grumbled later.
Daniel didnt message. But hed gotten under her skin. After three days, she cracked:
*You mad?*
*Nope. Text when youre ready.*
A week of battling herself, she caved: *Okay.*
*Be there in an hour.*
She froze, then scrambled to get ready.
At the hotel, she tugged off her jumper. He stopped
