Dear Diary,
Andrews phone rang incessantlytexts, calls, voice notesno fewer than ten a day. He begged, he shouted, he pretended to be the victim.
Emily, I dont know what happened to me, I felt like Id gone mad
You cant treat me like this; everything I have is thanks to me!
Youre nothing without me!
I sat in the tiny kitchen of the flat Id rented, sipping lemon tea while the snow fell silently outside. I felt neither hatred nor pity, only a calm that I hadnt known in twenty years.
A month after he threw me out, I returned to the townnot to his house, but to the council office. In my hands I clutched a slim folder: a marriage certificate, a deed, a petition for the division of property. The house he had evicted me from was jointly owned; half of it was mine.
He was convinced I was a simple woman who didnt understand paperwork. Yet I remembered every penny Id contributed to the repairsfrom night shifts, from loans, from overtime. The clerk in the property department, an elderly lady with spectacles, smiled at me.
Well done, miss. Youve done everything right. He has no chance.
While the solicitors prepared the case, I began a new life. At the private clinic that employed me, everyone was courteous; for the first time in years I heard, Thank you, Emily. Across the road was a modest flower shop. The salesmana tall man called Stanley, with greying hair and kind eyeshanded me a single bloom each morning.
Take this, Miss Emily. The white flowers suit you.
The first time I declined, I declined again. The third time I accepted. After so many humiliations, even a small act of kindness felt miraculous.
One evening the phone rang. On the other end was Aunt Valerie, the neighbour who had watched me being thrown out.
Emily, come over hes in a bad state. Hes alone, drinking, saying foolish things.
I didnt want to go, but I leftnot out of pity, but to see for myself whether the past truly lay behind me. The yard was overgrown, the porch collapsed, the windows were riddled with holes. On the steps sat Andrew, unshaven, in an old tracksuit, a beer in his hand. When he saw me he leapt up as if hed seen a ghost.
Emily! My God, youre so beautiful
Youve grown old, I said calmly.
He set the can down, bowed his head, then with a trembling voice admitted, I realise how foolish I was. The house is empty, my friends gone Forgive me. Come back.
I looked at him and felt nothingno offense, no pity, only a cold indifference. A stranger stood before me.
Andrew, I said, Im not here to return. Im here to discuss the house.
What house? This is my home!
No. Half of it is mine.
I turned as white as a sheet, as if struck.
You have no right! You walked away yourself!
No, you threw me out, in front of everyone. I pulled the documents from my bag. Everything is with my solicitor now.
His eyes flared, his voice shook. Will you ruin me after everything I did for you?
After everything you did to me, I only want justice.
Two weeks later the court ruled: half the house was mine, plus compensation. He never attended a single hearing. He called, pleaded, shoutedby then it was too late.
I sold my share and bought a modest flat in town. For the first time I had my own key, my own morning coffee aroma, my own peace. Sometimes I recalled that nightstanding in the snow, barefoot, in my nightgown. It had been my greatest humiliation, now it felt like a beginning.
Stanley once told me, You know, Emily, a person truly starts to live only when theyve lost everything. He was right.
In time we began to meetno drama, no promises, no scenes. He would simply come in the evenings with a mug of tea and ask, Are you tired today? That question held more love than my entire marriage ever did.
Six months later I saw him again, in a supermarket. He was unshaven, clutching a cheap bottle of gin, eyes sunken.
Emily he said, I just wanted to talk.
Theres nothing to say. You said everything that night.
I thought youd forgive me.
I have forgiven you, I replied, but I havent forgotten.
I stepped outside. The air smelled of fresh bread and cleanliness. I walked home to the place where a man waited who would never drive me out again. Behind me, the past lingeredquiet, powerless, lost.
Now I understand: that night when he cast me out in my nightgown was a gift. Without it I would never have learned what dignity means. The ending is not the end; it is the point from which you push forward. I pushed, and I am flying.
