A husband, after seventeen years of marriage to Emily, decided to leave her for a young studentbut he never expected the farewell she had prepared for him.
Emily stood by the window, watching raindrops trickle down the glass in winding trails. Seventeen yearswas that a lifetime or just a moment? She remembered every shared morning, every anniversary, every glance. Now it was all crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.
“We need to talk,” James said, his tone oddly hollow.
She turned slowly and met his gaze. Resolve mixed with guiltEmily knew that look. It was the look of a man about to deliver a blow.
“Im leaving, Emily. For Sophie.”
Silence. Only the ticking of the antique grandfather clockhis mothers giftfilled the room.
“The student from your department?” Her voice was eerily calm.
“Yes. My feelings have faded. I need something new, something exciting. Youre a clever womanyoull understand.”
Emily 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.”
Emily simply nodded. Then she walked to the cabinet and retrieved the special bottle theyd been saving.
“Well, this is a sort of occasion,” she said, uncorking it. “Lets have a farewell dinner. Invite your friends, your family. Seventeen years is no small thing.”
James blinked, bewildered.
“Youwant to throw a party for our divorce?”
“Why not?” Emily smiledand something in that smile sent a chill down his spine. “Lets give our life together a proper send-off. After all, I am a clever woman, remember?”
She pulled out her phone and began typing, her fingers swift.
“Tomorrow at seven. Ill make your favourites. Consider it my parting gift.”
James stood there, speechless. Hed expected tears, shouting, accusationsanything but this quiet acceptance.
“And yes,” Emily added without looking up, “tell Sophie shes invited too. Id like to meet the girl who managed what I couldntreigniting your spark.”
The next day began earlier than usual for Emily.
She systematically called banks, met with her solicitor, and prepared paperwork. Every move was deliberate, preciselike a chess player planning her next checkmate.
By evening, their spacious London flat was filled with the rich scents of well-seasoned dishes. Emily set the table with their finest chinaa wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
“Everything must be perfect,” she murmured, adjusting the napkins.
Guests arrived promptly at seven. Jamess parents were first. His mother, Margaret, awkwardly hugged her daughter-in-law.
“Emily, love, maybe theres still time to fix this?”
“No, Mum. Sometimes the bravest thing is to walk away.”
Friends trickled in. James and Sophie were the last to arrive.
“Come in, sit,” Emily said, gesturing to the head of the table. “Tonight, the spotlight is on you two.”
Once everyone was settled, Emily raised her glass.
“Dear friends, tonight is unusual. Were here to celebrate the end of one chapter and the start of another.”
She turned to James.
“James, thank you for seventeen yearsfor the highs and lows, the laughter and tears. You taught me many things. Like how love can take unexpected turns.”
An uneasy murmur rippled through the room. Sophie twisted her napkin, eyes fixed on her lap.
“And you also taught me to pay attention to details,” Emily continued, pulling out a thick envelope. “Especially financial ones.”
She spread documents across the table.
“Heres the loan for your cartaken out in both our names. Here are the overdue taxes for your business. And thesequite fascinatingare receipts from restaurants and jewellers over the past year. I assume these were for Sophie?”
James paled. Sophies head jerked up.
“But the most important,” Emily said, producing one final document, “is our prenuptial agreement. Remember signing it without reading? Theres a rather interesting clause about asset division in cases of infidelity.”
The silence was deafening. The kitchen tap dripped like a ticking bomb.
“The flat is in my name,” Emily continued. “The accounts are frozen. And I filed for divorce last night.”
She looked at Sophie.
“Darling, are you sure you want to tie yourself to a man with no home, no savings, and a mountain of debt?”
Sophie sat frozen.
“II have to go,” she stammered.
Margaret shook her head.
“James, how could you? We didnt raise you like this.”
“You dont understand, Mum” James began, but his father cut him off.
“No, son, *you* dont understand. Seventeen years is no small thing. And you threw it awayfor a fling with a student?”
Their friends stared at their plates. Only Thomas, Jamess oldest mate, muttered, “Youve really cocked this up, mate.”
Emily stood, glass still in hand, sereneas if discussing the weather over tea.
“The funny thing is, I believed our love was special. Like those couples in books who grow old together. I ignored the late nights, the odd texts, the new cufflinks and cologne.”
She took a sip.
“Then I found the receipts. The jewellery. The Ivy. The spa days. You took her to the same places you once took me.”
Sophie returned but lingered in the doorway, clutching her handbag.
“James, we need to talk. Alone.”
“Of course, love,” he said, rising, but Emily stopped him with a slight gesture.
“Wait. Im not finished. Remember our first flat? That tiny place in Croydon? We were so happy there. You said all we needed was each other.”
She smiled.
“And look at you now. Designer suits, a flashy car, a young girlfriendall built on lies and debt.”
“James,” Sophies voice wavered, “you told me you were divorced. That you lived separately. That you were buying us a flat.”
“Sophie, I can explain”
“Dont bother,” Emily said, producing another envelope. “Here are your bank statements. Sophie might like to know that alongside her, you were seeing two other girls. Or should I saystudents?”
The room held its breath. Sophie turned and fled, her heels clattering down the stairs.
“Emily,” James groaned, gripping his head, “why are you doing this?”
“Why?” She laughed, humourlessly. “Did you expect me to weep and beg? To fall at your feet?”
She scanned the room.
“The strangest part? I truly loved him. Every wrinkle, every grey hair. Even his snoring made me smile. I was ready to grow old with him, to spoil our grandchildren.”
“Love,” Margaret whispered, “perhaps thats enough.”
“No, Mum. Let them all see. Let them see how your son took loans to buy gifts for his mistresses. How he squandered our money. How he lied to me, to you, to everyone.”
She unfolded another paper.
“And this ones particularly lovely. Three months ago, you asked me to sign something for the accountant, remember? It was a loan guarantee. You used my car as collateral.”
Chairs scraped. Guests stood, murmuring apologies or slipping out in silence. Only Jamess parents and Thomas remained.
“Son,” his father said heavily, rising, “well go. Call whenwhen youve come to your senses.”
Margaret hugged Emily.
“Forgive us, love. We never thought hed”
“Dont apologise, Mum. This isnt on you.”
After they left, Thomas approached James.
“Mate, youve proper messed up. Ring if you need help. But dont ask me for cash.”
Then he, too, was gone.
James sat, head in hands. His expensive suit now looked like a cheap costume.
“You know,” Emily said, tucking the papers away, “I couldve caused a scene months ago when I found out. I couldve keyed your car, burned your suits, made a spectacle at your office.”
“But I chose another way,” she added, pulling out a plane ticket. “Im flying out tomorrow. The Maldives. I always dreamed of going, but you said it was a waste of money.”
She set the keys on the table.
“The flat must be empty by weeks end. Im selling it. And dont bother with the accountstheyre frozen until court.”
James stared, lost.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Thats no longer my concern,” she said, slipping on her coat. “The funniest part? Im grateful. You woke me up. Shook off the cobwebs. I realised life doesnt end with you.”
At the door, she turned one last time.
“Goodbye, James. I hope it was worth it.”
The door clicked shut. James was alone in the empty flat, surrounded by half-eaten food and unfinished wine. Outside, an engine purredEmily driving toward a new beginning.
The rain returned, just like the night hed chosen to wreck everything. Only now, no one was left to watch the droplets race down the glass.
