The boy simply hadnt had his fill of play yet.
“Alright, love, Ive got to dashthe lads are waiting! No time to lose! See you later!”
With those words, more than just evening plans crumbled. Eleanor felt something heavy settle inside her. Yesterday, shed been slaving over the stove, and today shed rushed home after a gruelling day, full of hopeonly for this? A hurried meal, a guilty peck on the cheek, and then off he went?
“What do you mean, dash?” she reminded her husband. “Today is *my* day, Christopher!”
Christopher was already lacing up his shoes but straightened, blinking at her as if genuinely baffled.
“Weve already had our time,” he said, nodding at their plates. “Dinner, wine, I even got you that hair curler you wanted. Its only Tuesday. Well celebrate properly on Saturday when the others come round.”
“But I wanted *you*,” Eleanor protested, the shadow of loneliness creeping in. “Tonight, just us!”
Christopher sighed, spreading his hands.
“Love, come onits not like Im off to the pub. The lads are waiting. Weve got a match lined up.”
His words stung. *They* were waiting. Hadnt *she* waited? Shed hoped for just one evening a year where it was just the two of them, without his mates in the picture. But even that, it seemed, was too much to ask.
“Fine, go then,” Eleanor snapped, turning away. “But know thisit mattered to me. A lot. We might as well be flatmates at this point.”
He shrugged, carefree as if they were debating what film to watch. But this wasnt just about her birthday. It was a cry from the heart. Lately, shed never felt more aloneeven with him right there.
…It had started long ago. Truth be told, Eleanor had reaped what shed sown. Shed chosen Christopher because he was fun, easygoing. But what suited a courtship didnt always suit a marriage.
When they first met, hed whisked her off to gatherings, to his board game clubsnot the rowdy kind, but the sort where everyone was polite, well-spoken, even a bit bookish.
Eleanor had grown up in a home where her father drank himself into oblivion and her mother spent every waking hour lamenting life. With Christopher, shed tasted something new: safety, calm. Shed missed out on childhood, so shed clung to his playful spirit, making up for lost time.
When he proposed, shed been over the moon. He seemed the sort to build a life withcheerful, quick-witted, well-read. Financially secure, tooa legacy from his mother meant he could work part-time, just a few hours a day, remotely, without so much as a commute.
The first weeks of marriage had been a fairy tale. Christopher treated her to a proper honeymoontrips across the countryside, seaside strolls, long talks under the stars. Shed felt like a queen.
But the moment they returned home, the carriage turned back into a pumpkin. That very evening, hed dashed off, leaving her to unpack and cook alone.
“The ladsll have my head if I dont show,” hed said. “Just popping round to celebrate being backgot photos to share.”
At the time, shed hardly minded. Almost. Shed told herself it was good he had close friends. But it kept happening. Again and again, she was left alone with the illusion of a marriage.
Memories of recent months surfaced.
Eleanor came home each day exhausted. Nine-hour shifts, traffic, the endless race to keep up. She had no energy for socialising. Shed open the flat door to find Christopher in his gaming chair, headphones on, roaring with laughter, a dirty plate and empty fizzy drink cans beside him.
“Christopher, could you take the bins out?” shed ask quietly, clearing the table.
“Right-o, love! Just finishing up with the lads, then Ill sort it,” hed promise.
“Just finishing” stretched into hours until shed haul the bags out herselfbecause *she* needed to cook, *she* couldnt stand the smell.
And so it went, with everything.
He stayed up till dawn while she rose early. Sometimes shed wake to his voice, arguing passionately over voice chat.
They lived side by side, not together. Like siblings sharing a house, each in their own world, barely touching.
Shed tried explaining, but he didnt understand.
“What more do you want?” hed say. “Weve got everything. Im home most days. I cant be glued to you, can I?”
All she wanted was simple attention. Shared evenings.
Eventually, she confided in friends. Lucy, ever the optimist, tried to reassure her.
“Count yourself lucky he brings in money and doesnt stray. My Daves off working construction up northI see him once a month if Im lucky. Youve got it all.”
But Helen was blunt.
“Ive lived that marriage. Youre lonely *with* him. Youre just the cook and cleaner. That boys not done playingwhat does he know about family? Have a kid, and youll never see him. His mates are more fun than a screaming baby.”
Those words stuck. For a while, Eleanor wavered. Maybe Lucy was right. Christopher was decent, didnt drink, provided. Maybe she should endure?
But now, sitting alone on her birthday before untouched salads and wine, she knewshe didnt want to be Lucy. She didnt want scraps. She didnt want to dread her own husbands company.
The roasted meat cooled on the table. The salads sat uneaten. Shed shopped, cooked, left work earlyall for a shred of celebration.
And Christopher, as ever, had shrugged on his jacket and left. Left her with wine, tears, and the crushing thought that this was her future. Always waiting. Always second. Birthdays, children, old ageall passing him by.
She couldnt bear it. Not today. She called a cab and went to her mothers. Margaret had lived alone for five years. She hugged Eleanor tight, eyes sharp with concern.
“Never mind,” she said, listening. “Well celebrate together. Fancy a takeaway? Whatever you like.”
That evening, Eleanor remembered what family felt like. Flawed, but present. They talkedhaltingly, sometimes in silencebut her mother *listened*. Christopher hadnt in ages.
She ignored his calls that night. In the morning, she answered.
“Where were you?”
“At Mums,” she said calmly. “Celebrating with people who care.”
“Ellie, come onwhats got into you? Come home. Ive done nothing wrong.”
“Thats just it. Youve done *nothing*. Youre absent.”
“Oh, dont be daft! We had dinner last night. Wasnt that enough?”
“Five minutes, then off you went.”
“Bloody hell, EllieIm not cheating! Youre blowing this out of proportion.”
“Know what? Id almost prefer if you were. At least then Id know what Im fighting. But this? Youve already got a familyyour mates. Im just… passing through.”
Silence. He had no answer. Or didnt want to give one.
“Christopher,” she said, “I didnt want it to come to this, but… Choose. Them or me.”
“Ultimatums now?” he muttered. “Ellie, you know I love you. But I wont ditch my friends…”
She exhaled, shaking her head. Suddenly, it was clear.
“Then live with them.”
She hung up and went to breakfast. Her mother had made her favourite pancakes. She cried at first, but thena weight lifted. It hurt, yes, but she could move on.
She returned only for her things. Christopher barely glanced up from his screen, pausing only to mute his mic.
He stayed in his worldwhere games and mates came first. She walked into hersone where she wanted real connection, not fantasy, not forever feeling like an afterthought.
Christopher had chosen eternal boyhood. And that meant their paths had parted.
