She didnt argue. She simply walked away
An autumn morning draped itself in damp grey. Eleanor Whitaker jolted awake from the harsh clang of her alarm and, with a sigh, peeled herself from the covers. Throwing a bathrobe over her shoulders, she shuffled to the window and pulled the curtains aside. The bleak scene beyond matched her moodfine rain, skeletal trees, a brooding sky.
Today marked the thirtieth anniversary of her marriage to James Carter. She hadnt expected any grand congratulations; in recent years James had almost forgotten such milestones. When he did recall them, it was only after her gentle hints.
Brewing a cup of tea, Eleanor settled at the kitchen table and, without thinking, the memory of their first anniversary slipped infive years after the wedding. James had surprised her then with a massive bouquet of roses and theatre tickets. After the play they dined out, and he raised a toast about love and loyalty. In that instant she believed their happiness would last forever.
From the bedroom came a thunderous snore. James could sleep until lunch. Lately he would return home after midnight, smelling of tobacco and spirits. When she asked where hed been, his answers were vague: stayed with the lads, important meeting, youd never understand anyway.
Eleanor exhaled and began making breakfast. She decided on pancakes, hoping the familiar scent might jog his memory of the day. In their youth he always claimed her pancakes were the best in the world.
Around ten oclock, a halfasleep James drifted into the kitchen. Without a greeting he headed straight for the fridge.
Good morning, Eleanor whispered. Ive made pancakes.
Ive no time to fuss over your pancakes, James grumbled, pouring himself a glass of kefir. Vernon called, wants me to look at his car.
A lump rose in Eleanors throat. Deep down she still clung to the hope of a miracle.
Do you know what day it is? she asked cautiously.
James paused, then shrugged indifferently. Its Tuesday, I think. Why?
Nothing, she answered softly, turning to the window to hide the tears gathering behind her eyes.
He gulped the kefir, flung the empty glass into the sink, and vanished into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he emerged, ready to leave.
Im off to Vernon’s. Dont expect me for dinner, he called over his shoulder.
James, today marks thirty years since we married, Eleanor could no longer hold back.
He halted in the doorway, his face tightening. And now what? Throw a parade? Eleanor, how many more dates do you need? Flowers? Ill buy them, no problem.
It isnt about the flowers. I just thought it might matter to you, she murmured.
Ive got work to do. No time for sentiment, he snapped, slamming the door.
Eleanor was left alone in the empty flat. She cleared the cold pancakes from the table, brewed another cup of tea, and let memories of happier days whirl through her mind like autumn leaves.
After lunch she decided to walk. The rain had stopped, and a shy autumn sun peeked out. She strolled through the park, inhaling the crisp air, pondering her life.
When she first met James, he had been a cheerful, attentive fellow who drove the city bus and dreamed of his own garage. They married quickly, after six months of courting. Their daughter, Lucy, was born soon after. They were poor but close; James always found a sliver of time for the family, even after exhausting shifts.
Eventually his garage opened, money came in, they bought a flat and a car. Lucy grew up, finished school, and moved to Manchester. Yet the bond between Eleanor and James grew colder each year. Late nights turned into whole evenings vanished. Eleanor endured in silence, never raising a storm, believing the rough patch would pass. Time marched on, unchanged.
Lost in thought, she found herself at a tiny tea room. The gloom in her chest urged her inside for a hot chocolate.
Inside, warmth and comfort embraced her. She took a seat by the window, ordered her drink, and watched the other patrons. At the next table, an elderly couple dined slowly, sharing pastries and soft conversation. The man gently wiped crumbs from the womans lips; she smiled gratefully. The tenderness of that simple act made Eleanors heart tighten.
Why did it go wrong with James? she wondered, stirring her chocolate. When did we stop noticing each other?
Evening found her back home. The flat was silent. She turned on the television to stave off loneliness and began preparing dinner. The habit of feeding a husband who no longer appreciated it lingered.
At nine, a knock sounded. Peter Hughes, the neighbour, stood on the landing with a bottle of red wine.
Eleanor, sorry for the late visit, he said, grinning. Just wanted to wish you well. I remember you mentioned your wedding anniversary is early November.
Eleanor blinked, surprised. Peter and she were merely friendly neighbours, exchanging a word or two in the hallway, helping each other with small chores. She could not recall ever mentioning the date to him.
Thank you, Peter, she said, accepting the bottle, a faint smile tugging at her lips. I didnt expect
Didnt want to be a nuisance, he replied apologetically. I know James travels a lot, so I thought Id remind you Anyway, happy anniversary.
When he left, Eleanor stood with the bottle trembling in her hands. A stranger remembered her milestone; her own husband hadnt even bothered to call.
Just before midnight James stumbled in, reeking of alcohol, a bright lipstick stain on his shirt.
Where have you been? Eleanor asked quietly.
Now I have to explain everything? James snapped. Out with the lads, celebrating whatever.
Whats that stain?
What stain? he glanced at his shirt, shrugged. Just a mess. Vernon’s daughter leaned on me when we said hello. Shes still a kid.
Vernons daughter is twentyseven, Eleanor replied calmly. She only wears burgundy lipstick. This is bright scarlet.
Enough with your jealousy, James huffed. Maybe she has a new shade, who knows? And why the interrogation?
Eleanor said nothing, slipped into the bedroom, locked the door, and lay down. Sleep refused her. The thought that their marriage had become a façade churned in her mind. They lived like neighbours, barely friendly.
The next morning, while James napped on the sofa, Eleanor called Lucy.
Hi, love. How are you? Hows baby?
All good, Mum, Lucy answered. Dannys crawling everywhere. Did Dad forget about the anniversary?
You see, Eleanor said, a sad smile flickering. I need to talk. Remember you asked me to come help with the grandchild?
Of course! Are you serious? Lucy laughed. Come, wed love you! Danny could use his grandma.
Ill come, Eleanor said firmly. But not for a week as you suggested. I want to stay longer, maybe move in permanently.
Mum, is something wrong? Lucys voice trembled.
Nothing special, Eleanor replied. Just very tired. Well chat later. Ill be there in three days.
After the call, a strange relief settled over Eleanor. The decision that had simmered for years finally took shape. She no longer wanted to share a roof with someone who didnt respect or value her.
James woke around lunch, his head pounding. Eleanor placed a tablet and a glass of water beside him.
Whats with the sour mood? he asked, grimacing. Still sulking about yesterday? Sorry, I forgot the date. Who doesnt slip up now and then?
Im heading to Lucys, Eleanor said evenly. To help with the baby.
When?
Day after tomorrow.
For how long?
I dont know. Maybe forever.
James, about to swallow his tablet, froze, eyes wide.
What do you meanforever?
In the literal sense, Eleanor met his gaze. Im leaving you, James.
Whats this suddenness? he laughed nervously. Because of an anniversary? I could buy you a dozen roses right now if that would help.
Its not the roses, she shook her head. Weve been strangers for years. You live your life, I mine. Yet we pretend were a family.
Eleanor, what are you talking about? Weve spent thirty years together!
Thats exactly why Im going now, she said sadly. I dont want us to waste another thirty years hurting each other.
Whos hurting you? James protested. Roof over our heads? I have that. Money? I bring that in. What more do you need?
Eleanor stared at the angry, bewildered man and thought of how much he had changedor perhaps simply stopped pretending.
I need attention, care, respect. I need to feel loved and important, not just a housekeeper who washes shirts stained with someone elses lipstick.
Again with your complaints! James erupted. I told you nothing happened!
It doesnt matter whether it happened, Eleanor replied, weary. What matters is that were strangers now. You act as if I dont exist, and I cant live like that any longer.
Wait, James ruffled his hair. Youre serious about leaving? What about the flat? Our things?
I dont need much. Ill take only whats mine. Let the flat stay yours. I value peace of mind more.
Where will you go? To my daughters place? Does she need a motherinlaw?
Lucy invited me, Eleanor said calmly. Ill help with the baby, maybe find work there. The city is big; opportunities are plenty.
And me? Who will cook, clean, wash?
Eleanor gave a rueful smile. That was the answer.
Youre an adult, James. Youll manage. Or youll find someone younger and prettier to put up with your antics.
For the next two days James acted as if her resolve were a joke, offering halfhearted compliments and promises to change.
Lets forget everything, he pleaded on the eve of her departure. Ill try, I swear. We could go to the theatre, dine out. How about a holiday to Cornwall next summer?
Eleanor had already made her mind. She packed quietly, placing only essentials in a suitcase. The rest could wait.
A taxi arrived at dawn. James stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.
Maybe youll stay? he asked as Eleanor lifted her bag. Think again. Thirty years isnt a joke. You cant just walk away.
Goodbye, James, she whispered, lightly brushing his shoulder. Take care of yourself.
She didnt argue or demand explanations. She simply left.
On the ride to the station, Eleanor watched familiar London streets glide past the window, feeling for the first time in years a strange, liberating lightness. The future was unknown, yet it no longer frightened her. Instead, she hoped something good waited beyond the next turn.
At the station, Lucy waited with little Danny in her arms. The toddler reached for his grandmother, and Eleanor held him, tears streamingnot from sorrow, but from relief.
Mum, are you crying? Lucy asked, startled. What happened? Did you and Dad fight?
No, love, Eleanor said, kissing the chubby cheek. We didnt fight. I just realized sometimes you have to know when to walk away.
Six months later, Eleanor found a job at a nursery, rented a modest flat near Lucys, and felt happier than she had in years.
James called a few times, begging her to return. His voice held no genuine remorse, only the selfish desire to reclaim his comfortable routine.
One evening, leaving work, Eleanor passed a park where the same elderly couple from the tea room ambled arminarm, whispering to each other. The woman smiled at Eleanor, and Eleanor returned the smile.
Thats how true love should look, she thought. Even after decades, you still see each other with tenderness, not irritation.
Back home, she brewed tea, settled into her favourite armchair, and opened a book. Outside, a gentle spring rain fell, but inside her heart was warm and calm. She did not regret her choice. Sometimes you must simply walk out to start anew. Close one door, and another opens.
