“You’re suffocating me,” said the husband, standing by the suitcase.
“You’re suffocating me,” said James, standing next to his open suitcase.
Emily froze, a towel still in her hands. Shed just stepped out of the shower and didnt immediately grasp the weight of his words.
“What did you say?” she asked, adjusting her dressing gown.
“Exactly what you heard. Youre smothering me, Em. I cant live like this anymore.”
James methodically folded shirts into the suitcase, never looking up. His hands were steady, his voice even, as if he were reading the weather report.
“Jim, whats going on?” Emily moved closer. “What are you talking about?”
“Im leaving. For good.”
“Leaving? Where? Why?”
James finally looked at her. There was no anger in his eyes, no regret. Just exhaustion.
“To Mrs. Thompson downstairs. Shes letting me rent her spare room. Just until I find something permanent.”
Mrs. Thompson was their elderly neighbour, a widow who took in lodgers for extra income.
“Jim, have you lost your mind?” Emily sank onto the edge of the bed. “Mrs. Thompson? What does she have to do with this?”
“Everything. Its quiet there. No one monitors my every move. No one interrogates me about where Ive been, who Ive spoken to, what I had for lunch.”
“I dont monitor you”
“Dont you?” He stopped packing and turned to face her. “Who grilled me yesterday for being half an hour late from work? Who checks my pockets every evening? Who calls me five times a day at the office?”
Emily felt her face flush.
“I just worry about you. Thats normal for a wife.”
“Normal?” James let out a bitter laugh. “Em, Im fifty-four. Im a grown man with a brain. Im tired of justifying every little thing.”
“But were a family! Seventeen years together!”
“Seventeen years of you turning me into a pet. Feed me, pat me, tuck me in.”
Emily shot up from the bed.
“How can you say that? Ive given you everything! Our home, our life, my care!”
“Yes,” James nodded. “And demanded receipts for every bit of it. Know what my colleagues say? That Im whipped. That I cant even take a piss without your permission.”
“Thats not true!”
“It is. And Im ashamed. Ashamed I let it go on this long.”
James zipped the suitcase shut and set it down.
“Jim, lets talk this through,” Emily reached for his hand, but he pulled away. “If theres something I do that bothers you, tell me. Ill change.”
“Too late. Ive made up my mind.”
“But why now? What happened?”
James walked to the hallway for his coat. Emily followed, lost.
“Your sister Lucy called yesterday,” he said, slipping on his shoes. “Asked how we were. I told her the truth. Know what she said?”
“What?” Emily whispered.
“That youve always been like this. Even as a kid. Always controlling people, telling them how to live. Shes amazed I lasted this long.”
“Lucy had no right”
“She did. Because shes right. I just didnt want to admit it.”
James grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Emily cried. “What about our plans? The cottage we wanted to buy? Travelling after you retire?”
“What travels?” He paused. “You panic if I go further than the corner shop. What cottage? You lose it when I go fishing.”
“I just worry”
“You dont worry. You own me. Like property.”
Those words hurt more than anything.
“Thats not fair,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I know. And thats what makes this so hard. You love me, but you dont let me live.”
James opened the door.
“Ill get the rest of my things later. When youve calmed down.”
“Jim, dont go. Please.”
But the door closed. Emily stood in the hallway, stunned.
She wandered into the living room and collapsed into an armchair. On the coffee table was the morning paper James had been readingopened to the jobs section. Even here, hed been looking for escape.
Emily tried to pinpoint when things had soured between them. Theyd been happy once. He was an engineer at the factory, she worked as an accountant at the clinic. A modest life, but a good one. No kidsit just hadnt happenedand theyd made peace with that.
Maybe that was why shed clung so tightly to him. He was her only family, the centre of her world.
The phone rang. Emily snatched it up, hoping it was James, changed his mind.
“Hello?”
“Em, its me,” came her sister Lucys voice. “How are things?”
“Hes gone,” Emily answered flatly.
“Gone where?”
“For good. Said I was suffocating him.”
A pause.
“Oh, Em” Lucy sighed. “I thought he was joking yesterday.”
“Joking?”
“When he called me. Said he couldnt breathe at home. I assumed he was just tired, you know, work stress”
So hed talked to Lucy too. Emily burned with shame.
“Lu am I really like that? What he says?”
Her sister hesitated.
“Em, remember how you followed me everywhere as kids? Monitored my friends, my books, where I went? Mum even scolded you, told you to back off.”
“I was looking out for you!”
“You were. But sometimes care feels like a chokehold.”
Emily hung up and criedangry, bitter tears. The emptiness in her chest grew.
She pulled out a photo album. Their weddingJames smiling, her arm around his waist. A holiday in Cornwalltanned and happy. Moving into this flat, buying their first car, birthdays
In every picture, James looked content. When had that changed?
She remembered a recent argument. James had wanted to go fishing with his mates for the whole Sunday. Shed thrown a fitwhy did he need them? Better to stay in, watch a film. Hed stayed, but sulked all day.
And when he was late from work, she really had called every half-hour. Just worrying. You never knew.
His pockets Yes, shed checked them. Not out of distrust, just habit when doing laundry. But had she been looking for something? Probably.
The doorbell rang. Emily wiped her face, hoping it was James.
Mrs. Thompson stood there in her slippers and robe.
“Emily, love, whats happened?” she asked kindly. “James came down with a suitcase, looking dreadful.”
“We had a fight,” Emily admitted.
“Oh dear. He says hes staying with me awhile. I couldnt say no, lovely man. But youll patch things up, wont you? No good splitting up at your age.”
“I dont know, Mrs. Thompson.”
The neighbour shook her head and left. Emily closed the door, alone again.
That evening, their friends son, Tom, called. A computer whiz, he sometimes helped Emily with tech issues.
“Aunt Em, got news!” he said brightly. “Found a buyer for your flat.”
“What buyer?”
“Well, you listed it, didnt you? The three-bed on High Street?”
Emily was baffled. Shed listed nothing.
“Tom, you must be mistaken.”
“No, its definitely yours. Serious buyer too, ready to put down a deposit.”
After hanging up, Emily checked the property website. There it wastheir flat, listed two days ago.
So James had planned this. Prepared every detail. And shed noticed nothing.
She called him.
“Hello?” he answered coolly.
“James, did you list our flat?”
“Yes. Problem?”
“Problem? Its our home! You cant decide that alone!”
“I can. Its in my name.”
“But we bought it together! I paid into it too!”
“Em, dont shout. Youll get your share. Fair and square.”
“I dont want money! I want my home!”
“This home suffocates me. Just like you.”
The line went dead. Emily stared at the phone, stunned.
On the kitchen table lay the weekly shopping list shed made that morning. Bread, milk, mince for the meatloaf James liked. Oats for his breakfast. Yoghurt for his digestion.
Emily crumpled the list and threw it away.
The next morning, her friend Sarah rang.
“Em, how are you? Saw Jim at Tesco yesterday with a suitcase! Asked where he was off to, and he just shrugged.”
“He left me, Sar.”
“Left? How?”
“Just packed and went. Said I smothered him.”
“No!” Sarah gasped. “But you two were solid.
