Make sure dinner is decent tonight, Richard said, tightening his tie in the mirror. My boss is coming over, and I want to make a good impression.
Emily nodded silently, spreading butter on her toast. The bread caught in her throat when he added, And try to look presentable. Honestly, its embarrassing.
The door slammed, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne and the bitterness of unspoken words. Emily stared at her reflection in the kettle. Forty-three years old, wrinkles around her eyes, gray roots she never had time to dye. When had it happened? When had she gone from the lively girl whod won young engineer Richards heart to the exhausted housewife he was ashamed to introduce to his colleagues?
The house greeted her with its usual silence. Eighteen-year-old Daniel had already left for university, and fourteen-year-old Sophie was staying over at a friends. Only she remainedjust her, the kitchen, and the endless to-do list: laundry, cleaning, groceries, and that decent dinner.
At the supermarket, Emily mechanically tossed meat, vegetables, and the expensive wine Richard liked to serve guests into her basket. Ahead of her in line, a young mother soothed her fussy toddler with quiet murmurs. Emily remembered when shed rocked her own children, when Richard would wrap his arms around her and whisper, Weve got the best family in the world.
What had changed? When had he stopped holding her? When had he last said he loved her?
Back home, unpacking groceries, she found old photos spilled from a drawer. There they were at graduation, laughing, his hand in hers. Their weddingher in white, his eyes never leaving her. Daniels birthRichard kissing her forehead, radiant with joy. Sophies first stepsboth of them cheering from the floor.
Where had that happiness gone? Lost between mortgage payments and sleepless nights? Between his career ambitions and her domestic drudgery?
She started cookingroast in the oven, salad, appetizersmovements perfected over years. Then the phone rang.
Em? Its Sarah.
Her best friends voice was a lifeline.
Sarah! How are you?
Could be better, Sarah laughed. Getting divorced. Final decision.
What happened?
Nothing dramatic. Just realized I was tired of being invisible in my own life. Fancy coffee soon? Proper catch-up.
Cant tonight. Richards bringing his boss.
Again? Em, when did you last do something for *you*?
Emily hesitated. She couldnt remember.
Its different, Sarah. Ive got responsibilities.
So did I. But heres the thingwhile youre living someone elses life, yours passes you by.
After hanging up, Emilys heart felt heavier. She kept cooking, but Sarahs words echoed. Was she really living someone elses life?
By six, the table was set, her best dress on, hair styled. She checked the mirrorperfectly presentable. Why had Richard said she was embarrassing?
The guests arrived promptly: Richards boss, Mr. Thompson, with his wife and another colleague. Emily smiled, served, made polite conversation. Everything went smoothly until the topic turned to careers.
And what do you do, dear? Mrs. Thompson asked.
Shes a homemaker, Richard cut in, almost apologetic.
How lovely! Did you work before?
I was an accountant, Emily began, but Richard interrupted.
Years ago. Once the kids came, we agreed shed stay home.
*We agreed?* She remembered the truth: maternity leave, then Daniels childhood illnesses, then Richards mother moving in. By the time Sophie was older, Richard had said, *Why bother working? I provide. Just focus on the house.*
And she had. Laundry, cleaning, shoppingdays blurring into monotony while Richard climbed the corporate ladder.
A friend of mine was a homemaker, Mrs. Thompson continued. Now she runs a florist. Says shes never been happier.
Not everyones cut out for business, Richard smirked. Ems happy as she is.
*Happy?* Emilys chest tightened. When had he last asked?
The evening dragged. Guests finally left, praising the food. Richard was pleased. Made a great impression, he said, unbuttoning his shirt. Mr. Thompson said Ive got a wonderful wife.
You mean a wonderful housekeeper?
Whats the problem? You stay homeso do it properly.
Richard, remember what we dreamed of when we married? Traveling, me learning French, you supporting my passions?
Were adults now. Obligations come first.
Obligations? My lifes just *obligations*?
Your life is our family. Isnt that enough?
She wanted to scream that it wasnt, that she was suffocatingbut stayed silent. As always.
Next morning, Richard left without a word. Emily sipped coffee, flipping through old photos. One showed her holding a professional certification. Shed once wanted to grow, to build something of her own.
The doorbell rang. A courier handed her roses. The card read: *Thank you for last night. Youre a delightful hostess. Warm regards, Mr. Thompson.*
She arranged the flowers, wondering when Richard had last bought her any.
Sophie called later: Mum, can I stay at Lucys? Were seeing a play tomorrow.
What about homework?
Mum, its *Sunday*!
Emily had lost track. Days blurred together.
Richard came home late, locked himself in his study. She knocked. Dinner?
Later, he grunted.
She ate alone, cleaned up, went to bed. He came in later, turned his back. Not even a goodnight.
Sunday morning, she woke alone. Richard had gone to his parents without inviting her. *Youd be bored,* hed said.
Wasnt she bored *here*? She dressed in a bright dress hed called too young, applied makeup, and leftno shopping list, no chores.
The park buzzed with life: families, couples, elderly pairs holding hands. Emily watched, absorbing the joy around her.
Emily? Emily Hart?
She turned. Andrew, a school friend she hadnt seen in fifteen years, beamed at her.
Andrew! Is that you?
They talked for hours. Hed divorced recently, traveled the world as a photographer.
Remember how you dreamed of Paris? he laughed.
Childish dreams.
Dreams dont expire, Em.
Inviting her to his gallery opening, he added, Lifes too short to waste on unhappiness.
At home, Richard was furious. Where were you? You lied!
At an exhibition. With Andrew, an old friend.
His face darkened. Cheating behind my back?
Dont be ridiculous!
He grabbed her shoulders, shoved her against the wall. Pain shot through her spine.
Youre *mine*, he hissed.
The next day, he pretended nothing happened. But when Sophie came home with a black eye*Some girls said Dads a tyrant and youre a doormat. I punched them.*Emily shattered.
That night, Richard yelled over a missing yogurt. Emily snapped.
Im tired of being your servant! Tired of *existing*, not *living*!
Divorce, then, he spat.
She whispered, Maybe we should.
As he packed, sneering, *Youll regret this,* their children reacted differently. Daniel shrugged: About time. Sophie hugged her: Im proud of you.
For the first time in years, Emily felt free. Hard? Yes. But it was *her* life.
A week later, Andrew called. Fancy coffee?
She laughedreally laughed. Yes.
And she meant it. She wanted to talk, laugh, *live*. Not as Richards wife, not as Daniel and Sophies mumjust as Emily.
Because happiness isnt a privilegeits a choice. And shed finally chosen herself.
