After seventeen years of marriage to Eleanor, her husband decided to leave her for a younger university studentbut he never anticipated the send-off shed prepared.
Eleanor stood by the window, tracing the raindrops sliding down the pane in aimless streaks. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or just a blink? She remembered every shared moment, every anniversary, every glance. Now it was all crumbling like a poorly built sandcastle.
We need to talk, James said, his tone unnervingly detached.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. There it wasthat mix of resolve and shame. Eleanor knew that look. It was the look of a man about to drop a bombshell.
Im leaving, Eleanor. For Emily.
Silence. Only the steady tick of the antique mantel clockhis mothers wedding giftfilled the room.
The undergrad from your department? Her voice was eerily steady.
Yes. The sparks gone. I need something new. Youre a clever womanyoull understand.
Eleanor smiled. *Clever woman.* How often hed used that phrase when he wanted his way.
Are you certain? she asked, nothing more.
Completely, James replied. Ive already packed.
Eleanor simply nodded. Then she walked to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of vintage champagne theyd been saving.
Well, this *is* an occasion, in a way, she said, twisting the foil. Lets have a proper farewell. Invite your mates, your family. Seventeen years deserves a toast.
James blinked, thrown.
You want to *celebrate* our divorce?
Why not? Eleanors smile held something sharp. Lets give our marriage a proper send-off. After all, I *am* a clever woman, arent I?
She took out her phone and began typing, her fingers flying.
Tomorrow at seven. Ill cook your favourites. Consider it my parting gift.
James stood dumbfounded. Hed expected tears, screaming, accusationsanything but this chilling composure.
Oh, and do bring Emily, Eleanor added without glancing up. Id love to meet the girl who managed what I couldntreigniting your passion.
The next morning, Eleanor was up before dawn.
She called banks, met with her solicitor, organised paperwork. Every move was deliberate, preciselike a chess master plotting checkmate.
By evening, their Berkshire home smelled of rosemary roast and rich gravy. Eleanor laid the table with their best Wedgwood chinaa wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
It has to be perfect, she murmured, smoothing the linen napkins.
Guests arrived promptly at seven. Jamess parents came first. His mother, Margaret, hugged her awkwardly.
Ellie, love, are you sure theres no fixing this?
No, Mum. Some things arent meant to be mended.
Friends trickled in. James and Emily were the last to appear.
Come in, sit, Eleanor said, gesturing to the head of the table. Tonights all about you two.
Once everyone was settled, Eleanor raised her glass.
Ladies and gents, tonights a bit unusual. Were here to toast the end of one chapter and the start of another.
She turned to James.
Jamie, thank you for seventeen yearsthe highs, the lows, the laughter, the tears. You taught me so much. Like how love can wear many faces.
A nervous ripple passed through the room. Emily fiddled with her napkin, eyes downcast.
And you taught me to mind the details, Eleanor continued, producing a thick envelope. Especially the financial ones.
She spread documents across the table.
Heres the loan for your Jaguarunder *our* names. Heres the overdue VAT for your consultancy. And these? She tapped a stack of receipts. Restaurant bills, jewellers invoices. Mustve been quite the courtship.
James paled. Emilys head jerked up.
But the pièce de résistance, Eleanor said, unfolding one final sheet, is our prenup. Remember signing it in a hurry? Theres a fascinating clause about adultery and asset division.
The silence was deafening. The fridge hummed in the kitchen.
The house is mine, Eleanor stated. The accounts are frozen. And I filed for divorce this morning.
She glanced at Emily.
Sweetheart, are you *certain* you want to tie yourself to a man with no home, no savings, and a mountain of debt?
Emily froze.
II need to go, she stammered, bolting for the door.
Margaret shook her head.
James, how *could* you? We didnt raise you like this.
Mum, you dont get it James started, but his father cut in.
No, *you* dont get it. Seventeen years isnt nothing. And you tossed it aside for some fling?
Friends stared at their plates. Only Thomas, Jamess oldest mate, muttered, Youve proper cocked this up, mate.
Eleanor remained standing, glass in hand, serene as a vicar at Sunday service.
The irony? I truly believed ours was a love for the ages. Like those couples in period dramas who grow old together. I ignored the late nights, the hushed calls, the sudden interest in cologne.
She took a sip.
Then I noticed the receipts. The Ritz. Tiffanys. The spa weekends. You took her to all *our* places.
Emily returned but hovered by the door, gripping her handbag.
James, we need to talk. *Now*.
Of course, love, he said, half-rising, but Eleanor stopped him with a raised hand.
Wait. Im not done. Remember our first flat? That shoebox in Croydon? We were skint but happy. You said we didnt need anything but each other.
Her smile turned icy.
Now look at you. Savile Row suits, a flash motor, a girl half your ageall built on lies and IOUs.
James, Emilys voice shook, you *swore* you were divorced. That you lived alone. That you were buying *us* a flat.
Em, I can explain
Save it, Eleanor said, producing another envelope. Your credit card statements. Emily might find it *fascinating* that alongside her, you were wooing two other girls. Or should I saystudents?
The room gasped. Emily spun on her heel and fled, her stilettos clattering down the steps.
Ellie, James groaned, head in hands, why are you doing this?
*Why?* She laughed hollowly. Did you think Id weep and beg? Grovel at your feet?
She scanned the room.
The saddest part? I *adored* him. Every greying temple, every dad joke. Even his snoring was endearing. Id have grown old with him gladly.
Darling, Margaret whispered, perhaps thats enough.
No, Mum. Let them all hear. Let them hear how your son took loans to spoil his mistresses. How he bled us dry. How he lied to me, to you, to *everyone*.
She brandished another paper.
And this gem? Three months ago, you had me sign something for HMRC. Turns out it was a loan guarantee. You put *my* Mini up as collateral.
Chairs scraped. Guests murmured apologies or slipped out wordlessly. Only Jamess parents and Thomas remained.
Son, his father said heavily, rising, well go. Call when when youve sorted yourself out.
Margaret hugged Eleanor.
Forgive us, love. We never imagined hed
Dont, Mum. This isnt your fault.
After they left, Thomas clapped Jamess shoulder.
Youve made a right mess, mate. Ring if you need anything. But dont ask for a quid.
Then he, too, was gone.
James sat slumped, his tailored suit suddenly clownish.
Funny, Eleanor said, tucking the papers away, I couldve made a scene weeks ago. Keyed your car. Burned your suits. Caused a stink at your firm.
But I chose better, she added, pulling out a plane ticket. I fly to Bali tomorrow. Always wanted to go, but you said it was frivolous.
She dropped the keys on the table.
The house must be empty by Friday. Its going on the market. And dont bother with the accountstheyre frozen pending court.
James stared, shell-shocked.
What am I supposed to *do*?
Not my concern, she said, sliding on her trench coat. The hilarious part? Im *grateful*. You shook me awake. Made me see life doesnt end with you.
At the door, she turned one last time.
Goodbye, Jamie. Hope she was worth it.
The latch clicked softly. James was alone amid half-eaten canapés and abandoned wine glasses. Outside, an engine purredEleanor driving toward a future shed forgotten she could have.
Rain pattered anew, just like the night hed chosen to wreck it all. Only now, no one remained to watch the droplets chase each other down the glass.
