Your Time Is Up,” Said the Husband as He Pointed to the Door

“Your time’s up,” said the husband, pointing to the door.

“Not that smell again! I asked you not to smoke inside!” Emily flung open the living room windows, angrily swiping the curtains aside. “Good Lord, even the sofa reeks. What will Lydia and her husband think when they come for dinner?”

“And what will they think?” Andrew deliberately stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Theyll think a normal bloke lives hereone who smokes occasionally. Big deal.”

“Normal blokes, Andrew, smoke on the balcony or outside. Not poison their families with second-hand smoke. I get headaches from it.”

“Here we go,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five years married to a smoker, and suddenly its a problem. Maybe its menopause, love?”

Emily froze, lips pressed tight. Lately, hed been needling her about her agealways hitting where it hurt.

“Whats that got to do with anything?” She turned to the window, hiding tears. “Im just asking for basic respect. Is it so hard to step outside?”

“Respect?” He snorted. “Wheres your respect for me? After work, I want to sit in my chair, have a cuppa, and smoke. Not dash about like a schoolboy. Its my house!”

“Our house,” she corrected softly.

“Yeah, ours,” he muttered. “Except I pay the mortgage. And the bills. And that new coat of yours.”

Emily exhaled. The same old argument. True, she hadnt worked in fifteen yearsfirst raising the kids, then caring for his mother, then… just settling into being a housewife. And he never let her forget it.

“I dont want to argue,” she said wearily. “Just smoke on the balcony. Lydia has asthma.”

“Fine,” Andrew conceded unexpectedly. “For your precious Lydia, Ill step outside. But just tonight.”

He stood, heading to the bedroom, then tossed over his shoulder, “And why invite them? Ive a big meeting tomorrowneed sleep, not to entertain your dull friends.”

“Theyre not just friends,” Emily countered. “Michael runs the library. He might help me find work.”

Andrew stopped. “What work?”

Emily hesitated. Shed planned to tell him later, when things were settled.

“I want a job at the library. Part-time. The kids are grown, youre always at the office…”

“And wholl manage the house? Cook, clean, do the laundry?”

“Ill manage,” she forced a smile. “Its only a few hours. And the kids hardly visit now”

“Hardly? Your mums here every week expecting Sunday roasts!”

“Mum helps with chores,” Emily protested.

Andrew waved her off. “Work at your age? Youre forty-seven. Stay home, do your crosswords, read your books.”

“Books?” Her voice sharpened. “Andrew, I have a first in English lit. I taught before the kids. Remember?”

“Twenty years ago!” He flopped into his chair. “Times change. Whod hire you now?”

“The library,” she repeated. “I dont need money. I need purpose. To feel useful beyond cooking and ironing.”

“So house and family mean nothing?” His tone turned icy. “Beneath you?”

“Thats not what I said.” She rubbed her temples. “Lets talk later. The guests will be here soon.”

In the kitchen, her hands shook. Every conversation lately spiraled into battle. Theyd met at universityboth bookish, in love. Hed written poetry; shed adored it. Then came marriage, kids, his rise at the publishing house. Shed stayed home, her world shrinking while his expanded.

Slowly, the romantic student became this mancynical, dismissive. She hadnt noticed the drift until the gap was too wide to cross.

Lydia and Michael arrived promptly at seven. Michaelbearded, joviallaunched into politics with Andrew. Lydia, sharp-eyed and sixtyish, joined Emily in the kitchen.

“Did you talk about the job?” Lydia asked, slicing tomatoes.

“Hes against it.”

Lydia shrugged. “Men fear change. Especially when it inconveniences them.”

“But Id still handle everything here!”

“To him, its rebellion.” Lydia grinned. “Imaginecoming home to an empty house! The horror!”

They laughed, easing the tension.

Dinner started civilly. Andrew was charming, asking Michael about new releases. Emily dared to hope.

“Speaking of books,” Lydia said, “have you told Andrew about the reading group?”

“What group?” Andrews fork froze mid-air.

Emily hesitated. “Id lead a childrens lit circle. At the library.”

Andrew set down his cutlery. “And when were you planning to mention this?”

“I tried earlier,” Emily murmured.

“Mustve missed that chat.” He turned to their guests. “Emilys taken a fancy to working. At her age, its… unwise.”

“Nonsense!” Michael boomed. “Shes brilliantperfect for outreach!”

“Perhaps,” Andrew said coolly. “But she has responsibilities. To me.”

“Andrew,” Emily flushed. “Not in front of”

“Why not?” He smirked. “Were all adults. I forbid my wife to work. End of discussion.”

Silence. Lydia exchanged glances with Michael, who cleared his throat. “This pie is superb, Emily. Lydia must get the recipe.”

The evening limped onweather, news, anything but the unspoken rift.

After they left, Emily cleared the table in silence.

“How long were you hiding this?” Andrew loomed in the doorway.

“I wasnt. I waited for the right moment.”

“And when was that? After youd started?”

“Why are you so angry? Its just a job, not an affair!”

“To me, its betrayal,” he snapped. “Our deal was youd keep house. Id provide.”

“That was decades ago! I need to feel alive again!”

“Alive?” He stepped closer. “Or free? Hunting new… distractions?”

She gaped. “You think Idwith librarians?”

“I think rules are rules,” he said coldly. “No job.”

Something in her snapped.

“Im taking it. Ill call Michael tomorrow.”

Andrew stared. “What did you say?”

“I said Im working.” Her voice was steady. “Not for money. To remember who I am.”

His face darkened. “So youve decided. Without me.”

“You refused to listen.”

“Fine.” He stormed off, returning with her handbag and coat.

“Your times up,” he said, pointing to the door. “Make your own choices? Then live without me. Go.”

“Youre kicking me out over a part-time job?”

“Im kicking you out for disrespect. For breaking our vow.”

Her tears fell. “Its just something to keep me sane! Youre never home, the kids are goneam I to bake cakes in an empty house?”

“Take up knitting!” he roared. “But no job. Thats final.”

He thrust her coat at her. “Bored with me? Go to Lydias.”

Mechanically, she dressed. This wasnt real. Hed never gone this far.

“Are you serious?” she whispered.

“Deadly. Go.”

At the door, she turned.

“The saddest part? You never asked why I need this.”

“Why then?” he sneered.

“Because Im terrified,” she said quietly. “That one day you wont come home. That youll leave me for that young editor youve been staying late withSarah, isnt it? The one who calls every night? Thin walls, Andrew. Sharp ears.”

He paled. “Thats”

She shut the door behind her.

The night air was crisp. For the first time in years, she felt light.

Dialling Lydia, she walked toward the bus stop.

“Lydia? Its Emily. Can I come over? Now?”

As she walked, her phone buzzedAndrew calling. She declined, powered it off.

Her time was up. Time for fear, for silence. Ahead lay the unknownterrifying, hers.

And she was ready.

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