Emma glanced up from her phone. David zipped his jacket at the doorwayhe was about to leave again. He didnt even look at her.
Where are you off to this time?
Lucys. She needs a hand with something.
Emma rolled her eyes and set her phone on the coffee table.
Dont you go there too often? Its already the third time this week.
David frowned and waved a hand.
Emma, come on. Her washing machines leaking, she cant sort it out herself.
A heat rose from her stomach and spread through her body.
Call a tradesperson, Emma said, standing up from the sofa. There are professionals for that.
Thatll cost a fortune, David replied, pulling his zipper up. Ill do it for free. Whats the big deal?
David, youre there every day, Emma stepped closer. Every single day! One thing after another. When will it end?
David was already at the door.
Emma, Lucys alone with the kids. I cant just walk away. Do you understand?
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
And you can just abandon me? Youre hardly ever home!
Dont exaggerate. Well talk when I get back.
The door shut. Emma was left alone in the quiet flat, the silence pressing on her ears. She moved to the kitchen where a mountain of dirty dishes loomed in the sink. She turned the tap, squeezed detergent onto a sponge, and scrubbed with jerky, uneven strokes. A plate clanged against the basin with an unpleasant clang.
A year later, a whole year had slipped by since Davids friend Michael died in a sudden, absurd accident. Emma truly pitied Lucy thentwo little children, no support. David and Michael had been schoolmates, almost brothers. Of course he felt obliged to help. Emma understood that in the first weeks.
But the help never stopped. David seemed to move into Lucys flatfixing her tap, changing light bulbs, driving the kids to the GP. He delivered groceries, bought clothes for the children, paid for their extracurricular activities. All of it ran off the joint account Emma and David shared.
They had no children of their own. They lived in Emmas modest onebedroom flattight, but theirs. They had once dreamed of a bigger place, saved for a larger house, even talked about having a baby. In the past year every penny theyd saved vanishedgone to Michaels family, to Lucys kids, to an endless stream of needs that werent theirs.
Emma tossed the sponge into the sink. Foam splashed everywhere, coating the walls. It drove her mad, made her feel like she was about to snap. In the evenings she was alone at home while David was at Lucys, helping, supporting, spending time with her children. It felt as if he had forgotten his own wife.
She tried to talk to him, many times. David brushed her off, called her concerns exaggerations, said she was jealous for no reason, that he was merely helping a friends widow.
Only a year had passed since Michaels death. Lucy needed to learn to live on her own.
One night David came back around nine. Emma was at her desk, finishing reports. He walked into the kitchen, the kettle whistling.
Emma, Ive fixed everything! he shouted from the hallway. Turns out a hose was kinked. I straightened it and the tap works again. The kids were thrilled! Tommy and Molly are such a hoot. We played football in the garden, and then Lucy made us pancakes with condensed milkabsolutely delicious.
Emma barely heard him. His words drifted past, turning into a monotonous hum. David entered the living room with a mug of tea.
Emma, are you listening?
Yes, she muttered.
Youre not listening at all! he snapped. Im telling you something and you
Dave, Im working, Emma clenched her teeth. I need to finish this report.
Always busy, David murmured, then left.
Hearing Michaels name made Emmas stomach turn. Hearing about his children, their games, the pancakes, the cosy home Lucy seemed to haveit all felt like a cruel joke. It was as if Lucys flat were a genuine family home while Emmas place was just a nightstop.
The weeks stretched on. David kept disappearing to Lucys, sometimes staying until midnight. He returned tired but satisfied, recounting how the kids cheered, how Lucy thanked him. Emma stayed silent. She no longer wanted to argue.
Then David started comparing, almost casually. They were eating dinnerEmma reheated supermarket burgers with buckwheat, David poked at his plate with a fork.
Lucy had a proper borscht today, he said thoughtfully. Real homemade, with meat and sour cream.
Emma looked up, a tight knot forming in her chest.
Dave, Ive been at work all day, she said evenly. I dont have time to make soups.
Lucy still finds the time, he continued. Her flat is always spotless, even with kids running around. Shes brilliant, honestly.
Emma set her fork down, appetite gone.
And she raises the kids alone, David added, nodding admiringly. She manages. Thats real grit.
Emma rose, carried her plate to the sink. The irritation boiled over.
From that night the arguments grew more frequent. David kept praising Lucyher cooking, her cleaning, her parenting. Emma exploded, shouting she was tired of hearing it. He took offense, left, then returned, and the cycle repeated.
Emma began staying late at work on purpose, just to avoid coming home to a flat where David was either absent or talking only about Lucy. She lingered at her computer until evening, drinking coffee alone, chatting with colleagues about anything but her own life.
She got home around midnight. David was already in bed, or pretended to be.
That night she walked in at ten, exhaustion weighing on her like lead. She kicked off her shoes and headed to the kitchen. David was at the table, shovelling dumplings into his mouth.
Theres nothing to eat at home, he said.
Emma froze at the doorway.
What? she whispered.
Im saying you didnt cook anything again, he said, gesturing at his plate. I had to make dumplings. Lucy always has homecooked food in the fridgemeat pies, salads, soups. What do we have? Nothing.
Something inside Emma snapped, like a stretched string. She stepped forward.
Then go to her! she screamed. If its so good there, go live with her and leave me alone!
David froze, fork in hand. The dumpling fell back onto his plate.
Emma, what are you
Im fed up! she shouted, nearly choking on her own voice. Im tired of hearing about her borscht, her kids, how wonderful she is! If youre going to replace a friend, take on the role of her husband! Because it feels like you spend more time there than here! Do you prefer Lucy? Go live with her!
David stood up abruptly.
Emma, calm down. Im just helping her. Michael was my friend. I feel I owe her
His face went pale.
You owe me! Your wife! Not her! I feel sorry for Lucytrulybut I cant keep hearing her name every day. I cant live with a ghost in our flat. Youre here in body, but your soul is with her!
This isnt true, David tried to step closer.
Emma backed away.
Then quit it! Right now. Say you wont go to her anymore. Say well rebuild our family. Say it.
David went silent. Emma saw the confusion on his face, read the answer in his eyes. He wouldnt quit. He would never quit Lucy.
Fine, Emma said, turning toward the hallway. She grabbed her jacket from the rack.
Emma, where are you going? David lunged after her.
Im staying with my mother, she replied, opening the front door. By tomorrow morning you shouldnt be here. Pack your things and leave. I hope Lucy finds a spot for you.
Emma, wait! Dont go!
But Emma was already out, the door slamming shut and echoing down the corridor.
A few weeks later she filed for divorce. There was nothing to split the flat was in Emmas name, and Davids possessions were few. He collected his few items that evening and left the keys on the console table.
In the courtroom the atmosphere was quiet and cool. Emma sat on a wooden bench waiting for her turn. Across from her, David sat not alone but with Lucy and her children, a boy and a girl curled up against their mother. Lucy held Davids hand.
Emma watched their intertwined fingers. David flushed when he noticed her stare, yet didnt let go of Lucys hand.
The judge called their names. Stamps on passports, signatures on paperseverything completed. They were no longer husband and wife.
Leaving the building, Emma turned around. David, Lucy, and the children walked to a car. He held the little girls hand, Lucy cradled the boy. They looked like a genuine family.
Emma walked the opposite way. Inside her, there was no pain, no bitternessonly relief. She was glad she had left while she could, that she hadnt let the relationship grind her down until everything collapsed.
She was free. And that was the best decision of her life. What comes next? Whatever the future brings.
