A lazy Sunday morning, with no reason to rush out of bed. No one to make breakfast, no plans for the day. After lingering a little longer, Eleanor got up, showered, and sipped her coffee. What now? How to kill time? She had friends, but they were busy with husbands and children. Visit her parents? Her mother would just play the same old recordhow Eleanor had made a terrible mistake.
A dull ache settled in her chest. Deep down, she already knew the divorce had been a mistake, but it was too late to put out the fire once the house had burned down. Truthfully, Victor hadnt been a bad husband. He didnt drink, never cheated, and wasnt picky about food. She couldve served him anything, and hed have eaten it without noticing, too absorbed in his computer.
He worked late into the night, then slept until noon. Dragging him out was a strugglehed yawn through social gatherings, doze off at the cinema, and count the minutes until he could return to his screen.
When he finally went to bed, Eleanor was already up for work. And if they ever shared the same sheets, hed rush through it like a sprint. Three years together, no pregnancydespite both being healthy.
The lack of a child wasnt the only reason she left. Shed just grown tired of talking to the back of his head. She saw his hunched shoulders more than his face. How do you build a life with a mans back? She might as well have adopted a catfed it, cleaned up after it, and traded his grunts for purring. At least a cat wouldve shown affection.
But to her mother, being married, even unhappily, still held status. A divorced woman? That raised questions.
“A million women would envy you. And youre still not satisfied. What more do you want?” her grandmother had scolded.
No one understoodnot even her friends, who had normal husbands. Men who worked reasonable hours, slept beside their wives, and had no trouble starting families. They fought, made up, scolded their men for drinking too much, then nursed them with hangover cures.
She and Victor had been classmates, known each other eleven years. Hed been a bookish nerd, always reading. In secondary school, computers took over. Eleanor and the other girls had giggled at the awkward boy with glasses. When he talked tech with the lads, she couldnt followlike he was speaking another language.
Years later, they bumped into each other. Victor had grown into a decent-looking man, swapped glasses for contacts. He knew a lot, and she liked listening. And Eleanor was good at listening. They started dating. Three weeks in, he proposedclumsily, casually.
“Listen, why are we acting like teenagers? Lets just get married.”
“Fine,” shed laughed.
“Mum, hes clever, interesting,” shed said when announcing the engagement.
“Do you love him?” her mother asked.
Eleanor had been baffled. Theyd known each other forever, had fun togetherbut love? They never spoke of it. She assumed proposing meant he loved her. Didnt it? Their marriage felt like friendship, only with shared bedsheets.
Her mother never liked Victor, was shocked by the choicebut the divorce? That was met with outrage.
“Have you lost your mind? Doesnt drink, stays home, earns welland you want out? Where will you find another like him? Couldve had a baby, given us grandchildren…”
Eleanor stayed quiet. Shed have one now if only Always those “if onlys.”
Victor had been genuinely surprised when she asked for the divorce. But he didnt arguejust packed and left. His mother called immediately, spewing venom about the flighty, foolish Eleanor. She hung up mid-rant. The divorce was quickno kids, no arguments over the computer.
At first, relief. Then, the emptiness. Autumn arrived, and leaving the house felt impossible. The walls closed in. Winter loomed, long and lonely. She missed Victor. A living, breathing person to care for. But regrets were pointless.
Her mother kept calling, offering setups, but Eleanor refused.
She wasnt the only divorced woman. People moved on, found someone better. But how, when she never left the house?
A friend signed her up for a dating site, made her pose for photos, forced a “sexy” smileas if Eleanor knew what that looked like. At the time, shed played along, half-hoping to make Victor jealous.
Now, curled on the sofa with her laptop, she logged in. Just curiosity. So many men, all shapes and sizes. She scrolled through womens profileseach boasting homemaking skills, gourmet cooking, careers, flatsjust missing love.
Eleanor had none of that. Couldnt sew, didnt exercise. After agonising, she wrote: “Im a good listener.”
Messages flooded in. Handsome menwhy were they on here? One caught her eye: stubble, piercing gaze.
Within an hour, he suggested meeting.
“Maybe not so soon,” she replied.
“Why wait? Better to know now,” Daniel answered.
(Fake name, probably fake photo too.) His logic made sense. No traveljust a café nearby.
“Today? Any plans?” he wrote. She had none. “The Enchanted Elm in an hour.”
She raced to her wardrobethen stopped. Let him see her as she was. Jeans, a fitted jumper, light makeup, hair down. Her figure was still goodno pregnancies to ruin it.
He was waiting outside. Recognisable from his photo. The café was quiet. They took a window table. Coffee for both, no cake.
Daniel studied her openly. She shivered under his gaze.
“Disappointed?” she asked.
“No. Thought youd be older.”
“Prefer pensioners, do you?” she quipped.
He laugheda rare, pleasant sound. Most men either giggled or brayed. She liked him. Dropped her eyes, sure hed guessed.
He talked. Nothing extraordinary, but the more she listened, the more she liked him. Confident, not arrogant. Her own story was brief: job, divorce…
“The best is yet to come,” she said mysteriously.
He laughed again. Definitely liked him.
“More coffee?” he asked. “Or my place?”
“Where?” She knew exactly.
“Were adults. This was always heading one way. Why delay? Unless youre scared.”
“Hes testing me,” she realised. Seeing how desperate she was.
“Fine, lets go.”
In the hotel room, he sat on the bed. She stayed standing, coat still on.
“Keeping it on?” he teased.
“Im not sure Im ready…” Her only thought: escape.
“Then why come?” No annoyance, just calm.
“Curiosity. Thought you were joking.”
“Got it. No pressure. Ill take you home.” He stood. Close now, awkward.
“Youve paid for the room,” she said.
“Staying, then?”
He was playing with her. She was drawn to himhadnt felt this in years. But shame crept in. She wasnt that kind of woman.
“Its our first meetingwhat if Im ill? Or you?” Even as she said it, she sounded foolish.
He laughed. His nearness, his gazegoosebumps rose.
“Another time,” she whispered, hating how pathetic she sounded.
He drove her home, didnt ask for her number.
“Arrogant git. And I acted like a schoolgirl,” she grumbled later.
Daniel didnt message. But something about himhis confidence, maybestuck. After three days, she cracked.
“Are you upset?”
“Not at all. Message when youre ready.”
A week of doubt, then she wrote: “Im ready.”
“Be there in an hour.”
She froze, then dressed hurriedly. At the hotel, she tugged off her jumper. He caught her wrists.
“Sure?” His eyes searched hers.
“Not sure of anything. Three years with my ex… Im nervous…” Her voice trembled.
“Shh.” He pulled her close. His heartbeat steady against her ear. Then his kissshe soared, she fell…
Later, beside him, she thought: “If he asks if I liked it, Ill leave.”
“Fancy a drink?” he asked.
“Youre driving.”
“Stay the night. No ones waiting?”
Silence.
“Then get dressed.” He stood, began pulling on clothes.
Confused, she hesitated.
“Restaurant. Food, drinks.”
That night was bliss. Victor faded from memory.
They met a few more times. Thenshe was late. Joy, then fear. With Victor, no precautions, no baby. With Daniel? Only the first time. Shed tested if she could conceive. Turns out, she could.
Now what? She called him.
“Coming over,” he said.
She panicked
