*Perhaps She Needs It More*
“Maisy, love, chin up. Youre gorgeousyouve got blokes falling over themselves for you. But for poor Laura, this might be her last chance,” Natalie soothed, patting her daughters shoulder.
Maisy nearly choked on her biscuitthe fancy kind her mum only baked for VIP guests. Not that shed wanted biscuits. A shred of sympathy wouldve done. Instead, she got a pep talk about her sisters romantic prospects.
“Mum, are you serious?” Maisys voice wobbled. “Thats all youve got to say?”
Natalie shrugged, delicately setting her teacup on its saucer. “What dyou want me to say, darling? So James cheated with Laura. Rotten luck, but its not the end of the world, is it?”
The words were technically correct, but the subtext? As if Natalie saw nothing wrong with the whole debacle. Maisy twisted the cuff of her sleeve, her insides hollowed out, like someone had yanked a fistful of nerves straight from her chest.
She wasnt even crying anymore. She just wanted *someone* to acknowledge the disaster her family had become. But everyone acted like it was just another Tuesday.
To her mum, the maths was simple: Maisy worked in tech, surrounded by men, and was easy on the eyesshed land someone else.
Laura, however, was a “difficult case.” And not just figuratively. Pushing forty, with a wardrobe of elasticated waistbands, she rarely left the house except for takeaways. Her entire dating CV boasted two relationships, both under a year.
The real problem? Natalie treated people like hand-me-downs. *Oh, share your husband, loveits not like youre short of options.* It made Maisys skin crawl.
They hadnt even *liked* James until recently.
“Honestly, Maisy, why dyou put up with him?” Natalie had tutted just last year. “Find a proper bloke.”
“Or at least stop coddling him,” Laura chimed in, suddenly a relationships expert. “Men only respect the chase. The minute you roll over, they lose interest. Youre practically his doormat.”
Laura was always full of wisdomfor everyone elses love life. She devoured self-help books and followed “love gurus” on YouTube, yet her own romantic history was a graveyard. Still, she clung to the hope that Prince Charming would stumble into her living room one day.
Maisy seethedbut Laura wasnt entirely wrong. James *had* gotten complacent.
Early on, hed confessed:
“Dunno what I want to be. Went to uni to shut my parents up. Economics? Not my thing. But Im decent with people, I reckon.”
Back then, fresh out of uni, it seemed endearing. Honest, even. But five years later, he was still “figuring it out.”
First, he flogged mobile phones. Then dabbled in estate agency. Blogged, freelanced, stacked shelvesalways swearing it was temporary, that his big break was just around the corner. Meanwhile, Maisy covered rent, bills, and groceries. Theyd *agreed* to split costs fifty-fifty. Reality? More like ninety-ten.
“Mais, bad newsbonus got axed. Boss is a cheapskate You know how it is. Rents on you this month,” hed mumble, eyes fixed on his shoes.
It happened so often, Maisy stopped counting. She picked up extra shifts, hoping hed grow up.
And he did. Then he grew *away*.
Year six, he landed an HR gig at a tech firm. Suddenly, he had *money*. They splurged on Deliveroo, new clothes, even a weekend in Brighton. Then they started savingfor a car, maybe a baby.
Thats when her family finally approved of James.
Natalie, whod once grimaced at his name, now beamed: “Your James turned out alright, didnt he? Hold onto him, lovethey dont make many like that.”
Laura started dropping by constantly. First for coffee, then with “favours”her laptop crashed, her car misfired, her flat needed rearranging. Maisy didnt think twice. Finally, life was *good*.
Turns out, it was *too* good.
Everything imploded on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. Maisy came home on timeno early finish, no overtimeand walked in on James and Laura. They didnt even jump apart. Maybe they *wanted* her to see.
She emptied the wardrobe at them, hangers and all. Words, too.
“Maisie, it wasnt *planned*!” Laura wailed, as if shed knocked over a vase. “But maybe its for the best?”
“Ive fancied Laura for ageslove a curvy woman,” James admitted. “Just didnt know how to yknow, *not* wreck everything.”
Like Maisy was a pit stop. The pain was so physical, she boltedstraight to her mums, hoping for a shoulder to sob on.
She got a lecture instead.
“Mum, youre acting like Lauras entitled to *steal my husband* because shes single. Thats *mental*.”
“Dont be dramatic, love. Lifes tough,” Natalie said, with the gravitas of a TED Talk speaker. “He didnt *murder* anyone.”
Maisy stood so fast, tea sloshed onto the linen.
“Cheers, Mum. Im done here.”
“And wherell you go? Back to him? Stop playing the victim!”
“Not your business. Im free now.”
“Maisie, *family* sticks together. Learn to forgive.”
“Some family,” Maisy spat, slamming the door.
She walked aimlessly, her tote bouncing against her hip. The city felt alienstreets shed walked with James, cafés shed shared with Laura, the salon shed visited with Mum since childhood.
Then it hit her: there was no place for her here.
Her sister was shagging her husband and calling it fate. Her husband fancied her sister more. Her mum thought she should *move on*.
Right. And Laura could snatch the next one, too. *She needs it more.*
At the train station, watching commuters rush by, a thought flickered: *Why stay?*
A week later, she handed in her notice. A month later, she stabbed a finger at a map and booked a one-way ticket towherever.
Her new flat had a dingy kitchen and a view of a brick wall, but it was *quiet*. In that silence, shed learn to live again.
Natalie rang a few times. Texted, toono apologies, just:
“Stop sulking, Maisy. Life goes on.”
But Maisy refused to believe *this* was life. She stopped answering. Blocked Mum, Laura, James.
The final touch? Her wedding ring. Shed kept it in a velvet pouch, thinking she might pawn it if times got hard. Then she realised it wasnt worth that, either. She tossed it in the bin with an apple core.
Maybe she had no family now. But she had herself. And peace.
