Late from work again? Lately, hed been swamped with projects, so it wasnt unusual for him to come home late.
Emily tucked the kids into bed and wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cuppa. Still no sign of Oliver. Hed been buried in work for weeks, always rushing in long after dinner.
She felt sorry for him, reallytried to shield him from any extra stress at home. After all, he was the sole breadwinner. Theyd agreed on it after the wedding: shed handle the house and future children while he provided. One by one, three kids arrived, each birth filling him with so much joy hed joke, “Why stop there?”
But Emily was exhausted. The endless nappies, mushy peas, and sleepless nights had worn her down. She decided it was time to pause expanding the family.
Oliver finally stumbled in past midnight, slightly tipsy. When she asked why he was so late, he just grinned.
“Long day at the office, love. We all needed a pint to unwind.”
“My poor hardworking man,” Emily said with a tired smile. “Let me fix you something to eat.”
“Dont bother. We had pies at the pubkilled my appetite. Just gonna crash.”
With Mothers Day around the corner, Emily dropped the kids at her mums and headed to the shopping centre. She wanted to celebrate this yearjust the two of them, a proper romantic dinner. Her mum didnt mind keeping the little ones overnight.
Besides groceries and gifts, she decided to treat herself. She hadnt bought anything nice in agesalways felt guilty taking money from Oliver for clothes, and there was never time to shop anyway. The last thing shed bought was a cosy tracksuit, hardly fitting for a fancy dinner. She wandered into a boutique, picked out a few dresses, and slipped into a changing room.
As she tried on the second dress, she heard a familiar voice from the next stall.
“Mmm, cant wait to get you out of that.”
A womans giggle followed.
“Patience, you! Go pick something for your wife instead.”
“What for? Shes knee-deep in nappies. The kids dont care what she wearslong as theyre fed, changed, and their toys are picked up! Maybe Ill get her a blender. Or a bread makerthatll make her day!”
Emily froze, her stomach dropping. Trying not to make a sound, she mechanically kept trying on dresses while their voices carried on.
“What if she asks where you spent so much money?” the woman teased. “Blenders and bread makers dont cost *that* much…”
“And why should I explain where *my* money goes? *Im* the one working while she sits at home wanting for nothing! I give her an allowancethats more than enough. She should be grateful!”
The voices faded as they left the changing area. Peeking out, Emily saw Oliver at the till with a blonde, paying for their items. Before the cashier could react, he pulled the woman in for a kiss.
“Everything alright in there?” a shop assistant asked, noticing Emily had been in the cubicle too long.
“Yes, fine!” she replied quickly, handing over the dresses. “Ill take them all.”
At home, after her mum left and the kids were down for their nap, Emily sat motionless, replaying the scene. She never imagined Oliver would cheatlet alone speak about her like that. The betrayal stung, but the sheer dismissal of everything she did cut deeper.
Part of her wanted to storm out and file for divorce. But she forced herself to think.
“If I leave, hell move in with that woman, and Ill be stuck raising three kids alone on peanuts. Child support? Barely enough to scrape by. How would we survive?”
By evening, shed made her decision. Oliver came home “on time” for onceprobably because hed already had his fun that day, she thought numbly. Every ounce of love shed felt for him had vanished. He was a stranger now. The only thing that unsettled her was the thought of him expecting intimacy. She couldnt stomach it.
But Oliver, it seemed, had gotten his fill elsewhere and didnt bother her.
The next day, Emily updated her CV and sent it off to agencies and companies. All she could do was wait. Checking her inbox became her new routineuntil, finally, an interview invite popped up. At Olivers firm, of all places. She debated whether to go but decided: why not?
With her mum watching the kids, Emily aced the interview. Two hours later, she was offered a decent role with flexible hours. The starting pay wasnt much, but enough to support herself and the children.
She floated home, giddy. Her mum, taking one look at her, frowned.
“Mum, Olivers cheating!” Emily blurted out, grinning.
Her mother, thinking stress had cracked her, pulled her onto the sofa.
“Emily, what nonsense is this? Oliver wouldnthes at work all day!”
“Not working*seeing* someone!” She spilled everything shed overheard. Her mum listened, then asked quietly,
“So what now?”
“Im divorcing him! And guess what? Ive got a job with flexible hours. Once the kids are all in nursery, Ill go full-time!”
“I wont stop you,” her mum said firmly. “No one forgives betrayal. Especially when he doesnt value you. Ill help with the kids.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Emily whispered, hugging her tightly.
Days later, Oliver strolled in late again. Emily didnt ask why. Surprised by her silence, he rambled,
“Em, had another late one at the office”
She cut him off. “Just go to bed.”
The next morning, as she fed the kids breakfast, Oliver proudly presented her with a gifta bread maker.
“Here, love. Thought itd make your life easier!” He leaned in for a kiss, but she stepped back, barely glancing at it.
“Ive got a gift for you too.”
Curious, he followed her to the hall, where two large suitcases waited.
“Were divorcing. No need to hide your affair anymore.”
His face paled. “How did you?”
“Changing rooms. While you were picking out gifts for your *blonde*. Oh, and keep the bread makershe might want it.”
Cornered and defensive, Oliver snapped.
“Jealous, are you? Shes gorgeous, passionate, *put together*unlike you! Youve forgotten how to dress, buried under kids, living off *my* money! And who cares how I spend it? Its *mine*! Youve no right to question me! Youre just a greedy, petty”
“I dont care,” Emily said calmly. “Leave.”
The next day, she filed for divorce and child support. A week later, his mother banged on the door, shrieking,
“Money-grabbing leech! Kicking out your husband, then milking him dry? Drop the child supporthe owes you *nothing*!”
“Hes paying for *his* childrenthe ones *he* wanted,” Emily shot back. “If his girlfriends short on cash, thats his problem. Hes still their father!”
“And whatll *you* do without his money? Popped out kids thinking youd ride his back forever? Well, tough! Hell slash his salary on paper, and youll get pennies! Youll starve!”
“Actually, no.” Emily pointed to the door. “Get out before I call the police.”
Cursing, the woman stormed off.
Months later, nursery spots opened up for all three kids. The youngest settled in, and Emily started full-time work.
One day, a familiar voice interrupted her at her desk.
“Hi. Can we talk?”
“Busy, Oliver,” she said without looking up.
“Lunch, then?”
She finally met his gaze. He looked exhausted, worn thin. Rumor had it the blonde dumped him the second half his wages went to child support. But Emily felt nothing.
“No, Oliver. Were done talking. And were done with lunches.”
