The rain streaked down the windowpane in slow, winding paths as Eleanor stood watching, her fingers tracing the cold glass. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or merely a blink? She remembered every shared sunrise, every whispered promise, every fleeting touch. Now it all crumbled like dry sand through her fingers.
We need to talk, James said, his voice hollow.
She turned, meeting his gaze. Guilt flickered behind his resolveshe knew that look. It was the look of a man ready to break her heart.
Im leaving, Eleanor. For Emily.
Silence. Only the steady tick of the antique clockhis mothers wedding giftfilled the room.
The undergraduate from your lectures? Her voice was eerily calm.
Yes. What we had is gone. I need something new. Youre cleveryoull understand.
Eleanor smiled. *Clever.* How often hed used that word when he wanted his way.
Are you certain? she asked.
Completely, James said. My things are packed.
Eleanor merely nodded. Then she walked to the oak cabinet and retrieved the bottle of Scotch theyd been saving.
Well, this calls for a proper send-off, she said, uncorking it. Invite your friends. Your family. Seventeen years deserves more than a whisper.
James frowned. Youyou want to celebrate our divorce?
Why not? Her smile was razor-thin. Lets toast to the end. After all, I *am* clever, arent I?
She tapped swiftly on her phone.
Tomorrow at seven. Ill cook your favourites. Consider it my parting gift.
James stood frozen. Hed braced for tears, furyanything but this quiet precision.
Oh, Eleanor added, not glancing up, do bring Emily. Id love to meet the girl who reignited your flame.
Dawn came early for Eleanor the next day.
She phoned the bank, met with her solicitor, signed papers. Each motion was deliberatelike a chess player cornering a king.
By evening, their London townhouse brimmed with the scent of rosemary and seared beef. She laid out the fine chinaher mother-in-laws wedding gift.
Perfection, she murmured, smoothing the linen.
Guests arrived promptly. Jamess parents first. His mother, Margaret, clutched Eleanors hands.
Darling, must it end like this?
Some bridges are meant to burn.
Friends filtered in. James and Emily arrived last.
Sit, Eleanor said, gesturing to the head of the table. Tonight belongs to you.
When glasses were raised, Eleanor stood.
To family, to friendsto endings and beginnings.
She turned to James.
Seventeen years. For better, for worse. You taught me so much. Like how love can take unexpected turns.
A ripple of unease. Emily twisted her napkin.
You also taught me to mind the details. Eleanor produced an envelope. Financial ones, especially.
She spread documents across the table.
The loan for your Jaguarour joint account. Your overdue taxes. And these she tapped a stack of receipts, dinners at The Savoy, jewellery from Harrods. Impressing someone, were you?
James paled. Emilys head jerked up.
But the real gem, Eleanor continued, sliding forward a final page, is our prenup. You signed without reading. Infidelity voids your claim to *everything*.
The room went deathly still.
The house is mine. The accounts are frozen. The divorce was filed this morning.
She turned to Emily.
Sweetheart, sure you want a man with no home, no savings, and debts to HMRC?
Emily shot to her feet. II should go.
Margaret shook her head. James, what have you done?
Mum, its not
His father cut in. No. *You* dont understand. Seventeen years. Thrown away for a fling?
Friends stared at their plates. Only Thomas, Jamess oldest mate, muttered, Youve cocked this up proper.
Eleanor sipped her wine, serene as a judge.
I believed in us. Like those couples in genteel novelsgrowing old, hand in hand. I ignored the late nights, the hushed calls, the new cufflinks.
Another sip.
Then I saw the receipts. The same places you once took me.
Emily hovered by the door, gripping her clutch.
James, you told me you were *divorced*. That you lived *alone*.
I can explain
Dont bother. Eleanor produced another file. Bank statements. Turns out, Emily wasnt your only distraction. Two othersstudents, wasnt it?
Emily bolted, heels clicking down the steps.
Eleanor, James rasped, *why*?
She laughed, cold and bright. Did you think Id weep? Beg? *Please, dont leave me*?
Her gaze swept the room.
I loved you. Every grey hair, every snore. Id have grown old with you.
Darling, Margaret pleaded, enough.
No. Let them hear how your son took loans for mistresses. Lied to us all.
Another document.
This ones special. That tax form I signed? A second mortgage. Our flat was collateral.
Chairs scraped. Guests fled. Only Jamess parents and Thomas remained.
Son, his father said heavily, call when youre sober.
Margaret hugged Eleanor. Forgive us.
Not your fault.
Thomas clapped Jamess shoulder. Youve bollocksed it. Dont ask me for a quid.
Then they were gone.
James sat slumped, his Savile Row suit a wrinkled mess.
I couldve raged months ago, Eleanor said, tucking papers away. Slashed your suits. Stormed your office.
She slid a plane ticket from her purse.
Maldives. You always said it was frivolous.
Keys hit the table.
Be out by Friday. The flats sold. The accounts are locked.
James stared, hollow. What do I do now?
Not my concern. She buttoned her coat. Funny, isnt it? You set me free.
At the door, she paused.
Goodbye, James. Was she worth it?
The latch clicked. Alone, James sat amidst half-eaten food and unfinished wine. Outside, an engine purredEleanor driving toward tomorrow.
Rain fell harder now, just as it had the night hed chosen ruin. But this time, no one stood to watch the glass.
