**The Ideal Husband? When a Phrase Shattered a Marriage Built on Indifference**
“You’re the perfect husband, Edward.” How a simple sentence unraveled a marriage woven from apathy.
Emily returned home, arms laden with heavy shopping bags. She had barely stepped through the door when a voice called from the sitting room:
“Finally back? Is it already six?”
“It’s seven,” she replied wearily, heading to the kitchen.
On the table, three teacups betrayed recent visitors. Her mother-in-law had dropped by, likely with her sister Agatha in tow. Emily wasnt even surprised. It had become routineunannounced visits, remarks about her “unladylike” manners, disapproving glances, and the lingering traces of intruders in her own home.
“Where were you so long? Im starving,” said Edward without looking up from his laptop.
“I was at the grocers. To feed His Majesty,” she shot back dryly. “But we need to talk.”
He ignored her. So she stepped closer, turned his chair toward her, and said calmly, “We must divorce.”
Edward looked up, baffled. “What? Why?”
“Because Ive had enough.”
“Emily, why not make dinner first? Well talk after. Im famished.”
“No. We talk now.”
“Listen, you know I dont drink, I dont go out, I dont loiter about. I stay home, I work. I earn decent money. I never ask anything of you. What more do you want?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “You live in my flatyou dont pay rent or bills. Thats my burden. The shopping, the cleaning, the cookingstill me. So what good is your money?”
“Well… I bought a jumper. Updated my game. Gave a bit to Mum and Aunt Agatha now and then. Thats normal, isnt it?”
“Oh, perfectly normal. Except this morning, I asked you to hang the laundry. Its still in the wash.”
“I was on a break…”
“Switching tasks is a break too.”
“But I dont know how. Mum and Agatha never let me near the stove or the hoover.”
“I know. You dont know how. Very convenient, isnt it? Well, starting today, if youre hungry, sort it yourself. Im done cooking. Some friends asked me to the caféI refused earlier, but Ill go now. Good luck.”
She stood, hung the laundry, jerked her chin toward the kitchen, and left. At the café, wine in hand, her phone buzzedher mother-in-laws number. She silenced it and turned the screen face down.
When she returned, Margaret Holloway was waiting in the flat.
“Emily! What on earths gotten into you?! A divorce?! Do you realize the man you have?! You wont find another like him! He doesnt drink, doesnt cheat, doesnt leave his socks about! Women envy you!”
Emily regarded her calmly. “You speak as if praising a well-trained dog. He does nothing wrongthats all you list. But can you tell me one thing he does right? For me?”
“He works.”
“So do I. Except I also clean, wash, iron, cook, haul heavy bags, pay for everythingfor myself and him. And what does he do?”
“He buys you gifts! I know! I help him choose!”
“Ah, so thats why I got a foot basin for Christmas and a wool scarf for my birthday.”
“Expecting gold, are you?” scoffed her mother-in-law.
“A spa day or a seaside weekend wouldnt have gone amiss. But no. A scarf. And disdain. And that eternal I dont know how. I wont play mother to him anymore.”
“Hes always been this way. In our family, men dont do such things.”
“Precisely. You raised a man who expects to be waited on. And hes content. Im not.”
“Couldnt you try before divorcing? Teach him”
“No. Ive no interest in teaching a grown man to be an adult. I tried. For a year and a half. Not anymore. Gather his thingsyou can leave together wherever suits you. Im not cruel. Just exhausted.”
Half an hour later, a cab waited outside the building.
