“Let Denis Go!”: I Just Said Yes…
“And where exactly are you off to?” asked Emily dryly, watching as her husband shrugged on a fresh shirt.
“Just meeting the lads. Few pints, bit of banter,” replied Denis, not even glancing her way.
“And when, exactly, do you plan to spend time with *me*?” Emily tried to smile, but it came out bitter.
“You’re always at work! How was I supposed to know you’d clock off early today?”
A fair point, in theory. Except lately, there’d been too many of those—fair, convenient excuses. And Emily was tired. Tired of being the one who understood, forgave, and footed the bill.
Once, she’d thought she’d met *the one*. Denis was attentive, charming, slightly younger—but who cared about age when two souls clicked? They’d been set up by her mum’s friends, married in a fuss-free ceremony, and moved into her spacious flat. He worked… sort of. But her salary covered them both.
The first warning signs came a year in. An affair. Then another. And another. Apologies, tears, promises. And after each—a new *investment*. A console, a gaming PC, the latest phone… And now—a car.
“Em, love, it’s *practical*! I’ll pick you up from work, drop the kids at nursery—” Denis waxed lyrical.
“Start by coming home first,” she snapped. But old habits died hard.
Then came *the call*. A lazy Sunday morning.
“Hello? Let Denis go!” A young woman’s voice chirped.
“Sorry, who is this?”
“We’re in *love*! You’re just… in the way!”
Emily listened in silence.
“So, is this love stronger than money?” she finally asked.
“Obviously!”
“Let’s test that.”
“What?”
“Take him. Permanently.”
She hung up and calmly packed his things into a suitcase.
Ten minutes later, Denis strolled in. Stopped dead at the sight of the luggage.
“Are we… going somewhere?”
“*You* are. Anywhere you like.”
“What?”
“Literally. We’re done.”
“Over some stupid girl? I was joking, Em! We were going to start a family! Get the car!”
“Exactly. *I’ll* buy the car. *I’ll* get my licence. And if I want kids—I’ll manage without you. Cheers for the motivation.”
He argued. Begged. Manipulated. But Emily was calm.
A year later, she stepped out of her brand-new car in a shopping centre car park. Driving licence in her wallet, confidence in her stride, a light smile. And a new dress—approved by her *current* partner. Mature. Stable. No nonsense.
Spotting Denis in the distance, Emily paused for half a second.
“You bought *that* one? But… I wanted black.”
“*I* wanted red. So I got red.”
She walked on, leaving him in the shadows. No words. No regrets. No *him*.
