While Katherine was paying for the groceries, Thomas stood idly by. And when she began packing them into bags, he even stepped outside. Katherine left the shop and approached Thomas, who was smoking.
“Tom, take the bags,” she asked, holding out two heavy grocery bags to her husband.
Thomas looked at her as though she had asked him to do something unlawful and replied in surprise, “And what about you?”
Katherine was taken aback, unsure how to answer. What did he mean, *what about you*? Since when did a man refuse to lend a hand? And how was it proper for a woman to struggle with heavy bags while her husband strolled beside her, unburdened?
“Tom, they’re heavy,” Katherine said.
“So?” Thomas resisted.
He saw her irritation growing, but on principle, he refused to carry the bags. He quickened his pace, knowing she wouldn’t catch up. *”Take the bags,” indeed!* he thought bitterly. *Do I look like some pack mule? Or a servant? I’m a man—I decide whether to carry them or not! Let her manage—she won’t collapse from it.* His mood that day was set—he meant to put her in her place.
“Tom, where are you going? Take the bags!” Katherine called after him, her voice trembling.
The bags truly were heavy, and Thomas knew it—he had been the one piling most of the groceries into the trolley. The walk home was short, just five minutes. But weighed down by the load, it felt endless.
Katherine trudged along, fighting back tears. She hoped Thomas was only teasing and would soon return for her. But no—she watched as he grew smaller in the distance. She wanted to drop the bags right there, yet somehow, she carried on. By the time she reached their building, she collapsed onto the bench outside, exhausted. Her throat tightened with hurt and fatigue, but she refused to cry—not here, not in public. Yet she couldn’t swallow the humiliation of his cruelty. He hadn’t just upset her; he had belittled her. And the worst part? He *knew* what he was doing.
“Hello, dear!” A familiar voice broke her thoughts.
“Hello, Granny May,” Katherine replied.
Granny May—properly Margaret—lived one floor below and had been friends with Katherine’s grandmother while she was alive. Katherine had known her since childhood and treated her like family. When her grandmother passed, Granny May was the one who helped her through the early struggles of keeping house. There was no one else—Katherine’s mother lived in another town with her new husband and children, and she had no memory of her father. Granny May was all she had left.
Without hesitation, Katherine decided to give the groceries to her. At least the ordeal wouldn’t be for nothing. Granny May’s pension was meagre, and Katherine often spoiled her with little treats.
“Come, Granny, I’ll walk you up,” she said, hefting the bags again.
Inside the flat, Katherine left the groceries, insisting they were all for her. When Granny May peeked inside and saw the tinned salmon, sardines, peaches, and other luxuries she could seldom afford, she grew teary-eyed. Katherine felt a pang of guilt—she should do this more often. After a warm farewell, she finally headed home.
The moment she stepped inside, Thomas emerged from the kitchen, chewing on something.
“Where are the bags?” he asked casually.
“What bags?” Katherine matched his tone. “The ones you helped me carry?”
“Oh, don’t be like that!” he tried to joke. “Are you really cross?”
“No,” she answered calmly. “I’ve just made my decision.”
Thomas stiffened. He’d expected shouting, tears, a row—not this quiet resolve. It unsettled him.
“And what decision is that?”
“I don’t have a husband,” she said, exhaling slowly. “I thought I married a man. Turns out, I married a fool.”
“Don’t be daft,” Thomas feigned offence.
“What’s unclear?” Katherine met his gaze squarely. “I want a husband who acts like one. And you seem to want a wife who acts like a man.” She paused. “Which means you need a husband too.”
Thomas’s face darkened with fury, his fists clenching—but Katherine didn’t see. She was already in the bedroom, packing his things.
He protested to the last. He didn’t want to leave. To him, it was madness—how could a trivial matter destroy a marriage?
“Everything was fine! So you carried the bags—what’s the fuss?” he ranted as she tossed his belongings haphazardly into a case.
“I trust you can carry your own bags *now*,” she said coldly, not sparing him a glance.
Katherine knew this was only the beginning. If she let this slide, his behaviour would worsen. So she cut it short—and shut the door behind him.
