He still wasnt home. Lately, hed been swamped with work, staying later and later.
Emma tucked the children into bed and headed to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Edward still hadnt arrived. These days, he was buried in work and rarely left the office on time.
She hated seeing him so worn out and tried to shield him from household stressesafter all, he was the familys sole breadwinner. When they married, theyd agreed Emma would manage the home and future children while Edward handled finances. Three kids later, hed been thrilled with each one, always joking they shouldnt stop there.
But Emma was exhausted. The endless cycle of nappies, school runs, and tantrums had her declaring a firm pause on any more babies.
Edward finally stumbled in past midnight, slightly tipsy. When she asked why, he grinned:
“Em, we were snowed under at work, so the lads and I popped out for a quick pint to unwind.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Emma chuckled. “Come on, let me fix you something to eat.”
“Dont botherwe had a few nibbles at the pub. Ill just crash.”
Mothers Day was approaching, so Emma enlisted her mum to babysit and headed to the shopping centre. She wanted to celebrate properlya romantic dinner, just the two of them. Her mum happily whisked the kids off to hers.
Between groceries and gifts, Emma decided to treat herself. It had been ages since shed bought anything niceshe even felt sheepish asking Edward for money for clothes, given she had nowhere to wear them. Her last purchase? Comfy loungewear, hardly fit for the candlelit evening shed imagined.
She ducked into a boutique and picked out a few dresses. Slipping into the second one, she froze at a familiar voice from the next cubicle:
“Mmm, I cant wait to get this off you!”
A womans giggle followed. “Patience, you cheeky thing! Go pick something for your wife instead.”
“Why bother? Shes knee-deep in kidsthey dont care what she wears as long as she feeds them. Ill get her a blender or a toaster. Thatll make her happy!”
Emma felt like shed been doused with ice water. Silently, she kept trying on clothes, ears straining as the conversation continued.
“Wont she wonder where all your moneys going? A blender doesnt cost *that* much,” the woman teased.
“Why should I explain how I spend *my* money? I work; she sits at home doing whatever she likes! She gets her housekeeping allowanceshe should be grateful!”
The fitting room chatter faded as they left. Emma peeked out carefully. There was Edward, at the till with a blonde, planting a kiss on her lips right in front of the cashier.
“Are you alright, miss?” The shop assistant frowned as Emma lingered, motionless in the cubicle.
“Fine, thanks!” Emma forced a smile and shoved the dresses at her. “Ill take them all.”
Back home, after her mum left and the kids were down for naps, Emma sat stewing. Betrayal stung, but worse was how Edward dismissed everything she did for their family.
She wanted to scream, file for divorce *now*but forced herself to think.
“If I leave, he swans off with his mistress, leaving me and the kids penniless. Child support? Barely a pittance. How do we survive?”
That night, Edward didnt stay late “working.” *Mustve got his fill this afternoon*, Emma thought coldly. Her love for him had vanishedhe was a stranger now. The only thing she dreaded was him expecting intimacy. The idea repelled her.
Luckily, Edward seemed satisfied elsewhere and kept his distance.
The next morning, Emma dusted off her CV and sent it to every agency in town. Then came the agonising waitdays of refreshing her inbox. Finally, a reply: an interview at a local firm. Ironic, reallyEdwards workplace. After wrestling with it, she decided to go.
With her mum babysitting again, Emma aced the interview. Two hours later, they offered her a decent role with flexible hours. The pay wasnt stellar yet, but enough to start rebuilding her life.
She floated home, giddy. Her mum, noting her glow, pounced.
“Mum, Edwards cheating on me!” Emma blurted, oddly exhilarated.
Her mum, convinced she was hysterical, guided her to the sofa. “Emma, dont be ridiculous! Edward? Hes always at work!”
“Hes with his *mistress*!” Emma spilled the fitting-room saga. Her mums jaw tightened. “What now, then?”
“Im divorcing him. AndI got a job! Flexible hours. Once the kids are all in nursery, Ill go full-time.”
“Good for you!” Her mum hugged her fiercely. “No one stays after that kind of disrespect.”
On March 7th, Edward slunk in late again. Emma didnt ask; he, unnerved by her silence, babbled:
“Em, work was mad again”
“Just go to bed,” she cut in.
The next morning, as she served the kids breakfast, Edward presented her with a gift: a toaster.
“Here, lovemake your life easier.” He leaned in for a kiss; Emma sidestepped it, ignoring the box.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Baffled, he followed her to the hallwaywhere two suitcases waited.
“Im filing for divorce. No more lies. You can leave *now*.”
“Howd you?”
“In the fitting room. Picking out gifts for your blonde. Give *her* the toasterI dont need it.”
Edwards face twisted. “Jealous, are you? Shes gorgeous, *unlike* you! Youve let yourself gojust a frumpy mum living off *my* money!”
Emma shrugged. “Not jealous. Just done. Leave.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, her doorbell rangEdwards mother, red-faced.
“Gold-digger! You threw him out, now you want his money? Drop the maintenance demand!”
“He pays for *his* childrenthe ones *he* wanted,” Emma said coolly. “If he cant afford his fling, thats *his* problem.”
“Whatll you do without him? You had kids thinking youd mooch off him forever!”
“Watch me.” Emma pointed to the door. “Leave, or Ill call the police.”
Months passed. The kids settled into nursery; Emma transitioned to full-time work. One day, a familiar voice piped up by her desk:
“Hi. Fancy a chat?”
“Busy, Edward,” she said, not looking up.
“Lunch, maybe?” He lingered, looking haggard. Rumor was his blonde had bolted when she realised half his salary went to his kids.
Emma finally met his gaze. “No. Were done.”
