“Hey, where are you off to?” she called from the kitchen.
“George, where are you going?” Beatrice peeked out, wiping her hands on her apron, eyeing her husband with surprise.
George, a forty-five-year-old manager at a well-known construction firm, had made up his mind. While his wife cooked breakfast, hed packed his bag. Now, standing in the doorway of their spacious Chelsea flat, he felt the weight of his decision.
Beatrice had always taken care of the family. She believed a proper fry-upwith sausages, eggs, and toastwas the foundation for health and success. When the kids were little, shed rise before dawn. Three children demanded her full attention, and Georges salary had allowed her to focus solely on home life.
He stayed silent, watching Beatrice, his wife of twenty-five years, and convinced himselfhe was doing the right thing. It was time for a change.
Lately, shed put on weight, losing the spark in her eyes that once captivated him. She no longer excited him. For that, there was Imogenyoung, sharp, with jet-black hair, met at a corporate event in Cornwall. Bold, just like him. Thats why he stood there now, bag in hand.
Enough! Why stay with a woman he didnt love? The kids were grown: James and Peter, graduated, working in London; Catherine, in her fourth year of medical school, still relied on him. As for his wife Why keep providing for her? Imogen was rightit was time to split the flat.
“Going on a trip?” Beatrice asked calmly. “You shouldve said. Id have made you sandwiches. Its not good to leave on an empty stomach.”
“Always with the food!” George snapped, annoyed he couldnt just say it. “You think there arent cafés out there? You live in that kitchen like the world doesnt exist!”
“Has something happened?” Her voice stayed gentle.
Shed suspected the affair for a while. She knew this day would come. But she knew her husband.
“Im leaving!” he burst out. “Im with someone else. A modern woman, not some housewife!”
“Congratulations,” she replied, as if discussing the weather.
“Dont I deserve it?”
“You deserve more. Youre hardworking, clever, handsome”
“The flat will be split,” he said, softening slightly.
“Agreed. Well settle it properly.”
George was thrown by her ease. Hed expected screaming, not this calm.
“Get a job,” he warned. “I wont support you.”
“I dont need you to. Im remarrying.”
“Remarry?” He laughed. “Whod want you?”
“Plenty. Women like me are in demand. Experienced, home-loving, good cooks And with a flat of my own after the settlement.”
He swallowed hard. The thought of Beatrice with another man gnawed at him.
“Ive got a meeting,” he muttered, setting his bag down. “Dont finalise anything today. Its disrespectful.”
At the office, doubt ate at him. Hed planned to return if things with Imogen fell through, but now
By evening, Imogen called, impatient:
“Where are you? Ive found a place in Mayfair! We need to furnish the bedroom and book that trip to Barbados. Remember your promise?”
“Whats for dinner?” he interrupted.
“Nothing. Im on a diet. We could order sushi”
George hung up. He thought of the shepherds pie Beatrice wouldve made, the quiet comfort of home. And the idea of another man calling her his wife.
No. That wouldnt happen.