“You Chose Work Over Me”
“II can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Emily flung her mug across the kitchen, sending coffee splattering against the wall. Shards of porcelain scattered like confetti at their feet. Her hands trembled, knuckles white.
“Dont be childish,” James said, infuriatingly calm. His steady voice only made her blood boil hotter. “I cant cancel this trip. This is about the director promotion. Its non-negotiable.”
“The promotion?” She choked on the word. “Thats always the excuse, isnt it? You missed Lilys graduation, forgot my birthday despite reminders, and now this! Maxs tonsillectomy is in two days, and youre swanning off towhere was it? Edinburgh?”
“Manchester,” he corrected automatically, then winced.
“As if it matters!” Emily threw her hands up. “You wont be there when they put him under. When hes terrified, when Im climbing the walls with worry! All for some bloody contract nobody cares about!”
James exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his stubbled face. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but his stubborn glare hadnt changed in twenty years.
“This isnt just paperworkits twenty years of grinding for this shot. And Maxs surgery is routine. Its not brain tumour, for Christs sake.”
“Oh, brilliant! What if theres complications? What then?” Her nails dug into her palms.
“Nothing will happen. I spoke to the surgeon myself.”
“And if it does?” Her voice pitched higher.
“For Gods sake, sit down!” He jerked his shoulders. “If anything goes wrong, Ill get on the first flight back. Like when Lily had her appendix out, remember?”
“Oh, I remember!” She smirked bitterly. “You crawled in eight hours latedoctors were gone, and there you were, fresh off the tarmac, hero of the hour!”
James shook his head. “Im not made of elastic, Em. Im killing myself so you and the kids have everything. Or did you forget nagging me for this house? ‘The neighbours are loud, the tubes too far'”
“Id rather live in a shoebox flat!” she exploded. “With a husband who sees his children more than Sundays after lunch!”
James collapsed into a chair, his broad frame sagging. “We had a deal. You handle home, I handle the money. What changed?”
Emily opened her mouth, but the front door slammed. Backpacks thudded in the hallway, followed by the kids chatter.
“Well talk later,” she muttered, forcing a smile so stiff it hurt.
—
That night, after tucking Max in, Emily scrolled mindlessly through her phone at the kitchen table. The numbness had set in. Twenty-two years of marriage, and all they had was a spreadsheet of sacrifices. When had it all gone so wrong?
James entered, silent, and sat across from her.
“Coffee?” she asked flatly.
“Please.” He rubbed his temples. “Em, we need to talk.”
“About what?” The kettle hissed. “Youre leaving day after tomorrow. Max and I will manage alone.”
“Listen” He moved behind her, hands tentative on her shoulders. “This trip matters. But so do you.”
“Just not enough to stay.” She turned, and the exhaustion in her eyes cut deeper than anger.
“Everything I do is for this family.”
“No, James.” Her voice frayed. “Its for your ego. Your career. Weve been background noise for years.”
“Thats not true.”
“Isnt it?” She laughed hollowly. “When Max heard about the surgery, know what he said? ‘At least its during Dads triphed stress about missing work.’ An eleven-year-old shouldnt have to think like that.”
James flinched.
“And Lily asked if youd make her uni graduation next year. Not because she wants you therebecause she expects youll bail.”
“Ill be there,” he mumbled.
“‘Try my best,'” she echoed. “Always ‘try.'” Her voice dropped. “You know when I realised youd chosen work? When I miscarried. Ten years ago. You flew in two days lateafter Id already left hospital.”
“That was the Beijing merger”
“Exactly.” Her knuckles whitened around the coffee grinder. “You were negotiating. I was burying our baby. Alone.”
James paled. “You never told me how you felt.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
He had no answer.
—
The hospital corridor buzzed with noise. Emily gripped Maxs dinosaur plushie, staring at the operating theatre doors. An hour had passed for a forty-minute procedure.
Beside her, Lily thumbed her phone, stealing anxious glances at the clock.
“Dad promised to call,” Lily muttered.
“Hes in meetings.” Emily checked her silent phone.
“Classic.” Lilys smirk was too old for seventeen.
The surgeon emerged, smiling. “All went well. Hes in recoveryyou can see him soon.”
Emily sagged with relief, tears pricking her eyes. Lily squeezed her hand.
“Text Dad,” she urged.
Emily typed: *Surgery successful. Max in recovery. All fine.*
No reply.
Over tepid tea in the cafeteria, Lily blurted, “Are you and Dad splitting up?”
Emily choked. “What?”
“You argue when you think were asleep. Hes never home. Youre sadder when he leaves.”
Emily studied her daughterwhen had she grown so sharp?
“Were figuring things out.”
“Like Vikkis parents ‘figured out’ before their divorce?” Lilys laugh was brittle.
Emily hesitated. “How would you feel if?”
“Dont know.” Lily shrugged. “Hes already gone, isnt he?”
James text arrived an hour late: *Apologies, back-to-back meetings. Hows Max? Can I video-call?*
Emily showed Lily.
“Hell call ‘when free,'” Lily deadpanned. “Shocker.”
—
That evening, Emily stared at a framed photo on the mantel: the four of them at Brighton Pier, laughing, sunburnt. Five years ago. A lifetime.
James called at midnight, voice ragged. “Ill fly straight after signing. I swear, Em, Ill do better.”
She traced the photo glass. “Prove it.”
—
Next morning, Max drew a plane in crayonblue wings, tiny windows. “This is Dads flight home,” he announced.
Emily hugged him, throat tight. “Hes coming back, love.”
She didnt know if promises would stick. But for the first time in years, hope flickered. Maybejust maybehed choose them this time.
Max added a stick figure waving from the cockpit. “See? Dads on his way.”
Emily kissed his hair. “Yes, darling. He is.”
