**Diary Entry 12th June 2023**
He was laughingloudly, freely, with a lightness I hadnt heard in two years. His arm rested around the waist of *her*, the one with the dark eyes and expensive perfume.
*”My old cows at home making stew!”* he snorted, and his mistress tittered, sharp as a knifes edge.
I walked into the room at that exact moment.
Silence fell like a plug pulled from a socket. Even the background music faltered, too timid to cut through the tension.
My husband turned sharplyfirst confused, then terrified. His face was the best reward for all those years of marriage.
*”You… what are you doing here?”* he choked out.
My hands trembled, but my voice stayed steady.
*”Dont stop on my account. You were having such a good laugh a minute ago.”*
A murmur spread through the crowdcolleagues exchanged glances, some sipped wine, pretending not to notice. The young beauty beside him paled, trying to slide her hand off his waist. But he sat frozen, stone-still.
*”Well then, Simon,”* I said, stepping closer, my dress whispering against the floor, *”this old cow, as you love to call her, has come to remind youcows sometimes have horns.”*
A nervous laugh flickered among the guests before dying instantly. The air thickened, storm-ready.
I didnt shout. Didnt cry. I just pulled out my phone, tapped the screen, and laid it before him. Photos. Messages. Proof.
*”Ive been waiting for the right moment to show you this,”* I said, locking eyes with him. *”Consider it a gift. Let all your mates and *colleagues* see what a hero you are.”*
The mistress shrank back, vanishing into the crowd. Simon sat chalk-white, speechless.
I straightened, almost smiling. *”Thanks for the party. Its the perfect excuse to walk out of this circus.”*
I turned and left. Behind me, silenceno music, no whispers could fill it. And for the first time in years, my chest felt light.
Outside, the cold air hit me. I breathed deep. My feet carried me forward, eager to escape that stifling room, where the curtain had just fallen on ten years of my life.
My phone buzzedSimon calling. I stopped, looked at the screen, and declined. Switched it to silent. Let him sit in the quiet Id lived in for so long.
At home, I stared out the window, watching the streetlights fade. His laughter, his panicnone of it hurt anymore. Instead, certainty settled in: this ending was inevitable.
The next morning, he stood at my door with flowers. Red-eyed, exhausted.
*”Im sorry,”* he whispered. *”A mistakestupidity. Lets start over.”*
I took the bouquet, set it on the step, and said, *”Simon, we were over long ago. You just caught up today.”*
He begged, argued, but my voice held a firmness hed never heardnot the timid wife, but a woman who knew her worth.
A week later, I filed for divorce. Hard, but freeing. I rebuiltwork, new friends, dreams no longer shelved.
A year on, I bumped into Andrew at a café near workan old colleague whod always admired my strength. We talked. And for the first time in years, I laughed without restraint.
I wasnt *”the cow making stew”* anymore. I was a woman who valued herselfand was valued in return.
Simon? Just a shadow now. A lesson learned: true happiness begins when you stop being afraid to walk away.
