“Hey, where are you off to?” she called from the kitchen.
“George, where are you going?” Beatrice peered out, wiping her hands on her apron, staring at her husband in surprise.
George, a man of forty-five, a manager at a prestigious construction firm, had made up his mind. While his wife prepared breakfast, he had packed his bag. Now, standing in the doorway of their spacious flat in Chelsea, he felt the weight of his decision.
Beatrice had always taken care of the family. She believed a proper breakfastsausages, cheeses, and warm toastwas the foundation of health and success. When the children were young, she rose before dawn. Three kids demanded her full attention, and her husband’s salary had allowed her to devote herself entirely to home life.
He stayed silent. Watching Beatrice, his partner of twenty-five years, he convinced himselfthis was right. It was time for a change.
His wife had put on weight in recent years, losing the spark in her eyes that had once enchanted him. She no longer stirred his heart. For that, there was Graceyoung, sharp, with raven-black hair, met at a corporate event in Cornwall. Bold, like him. Thats why he stood there now, bag in hand.
Enough! Why stay with a woman he didnt love? The children were grown: James and Peter had graduated, working in London; Catherine, in her fourth year of medical school, still relied on his support. As for his wife Why keep providing for her? Grace was rightit was time to split the flat.
“Are you going away?” Beatrice asked calmly. “You shouldve said. I made you sandwiches. Its not good to leave on an empty stomach.”
“Always with the food!” George snapped, annoyed he couldnt just say what he meant. “You think there arent cafés out there? You live in that kitchen like the rest of the world doesnt exist!”
“Has something happened?” Her voice stayed gentle.
She had suspected the mistress 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 commenting on the weather.
“Dont I deserve it?”
“You deserve more. Youre hardworking, clever, handsome”
“The flat will be divided,” he said, softer now.
“Agreed. Well sort it properly.”
George frowned at her ease. Hed expected screaming, not this quiet acceptance.
“Get a job,” he warned. “I wont support you.”
“I dont need you to. Im remarrying.”
“Remarrying?” He scoffed. “Whod want you?”
“Plenty. Women like me are in demand. Experienced, homemakers, good cooks And with my own flat after the settlement.”
He swallowed hard. The thought of Beatrice with another man unsettled him.
“Ive got a meeting,” he muttered, setting his bag down. “Dont make any plans today. Its disrespectful.”
At the office, doubt gnawed at him. Hed planned to return if things with Grace fell through, but now
By evening, Grace called, impatient.
“Where are you? I found a flat on Regent Street! We need to furnish the bedroom and book the trip to Barbados. Remember your promise?”
“Whats for dinner?” he interrupted.
“Nothing. Im dieting. 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.
