That evening split Emma’s life into “before and after.”
“You see, Emma, I’ve met someone else. We just clicked. Romance, excitement—nothing like what we had. Once in a blue moon, if that,” James declared, slipping off his wedding ring.
He said it with a sneer, as if the fault were entirely hers. Emma listened in silence. No begging, no tears, no desperate pleas. She let him go.
“Nothing to split. The flat’s mine—bought it before we married. The car, too. And I’m keeping Rufus. Registered during the marriage, but he’s my solace,” she said later.
“Couldn’t care less about the mutt. Keep him. But the flat and car? I’d take half.”
“If you’d paid for them,” Emma cut in. “But you didn’t. So tough luck.”
James tried to argue but left empty-handed. She stayed—with Rufus, and a simmering desire for payback.
Emma took the betrayal hard.
“Don’t think I’ll trust anyone again,” she confessed to her best friend, Sophie.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you let him walk away so easily. Should’ve taught him a lesson.”
“How?”
“String him along, then drop him.”
Emma shrugged.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold. Just wait—he’ll come crawling back.”
“Why?”
“Because you were together seven years, and this Hannah is just a fling from his gym. Fifteen years younger? He’ll regret it soon enough.”
She was right.
Within months, James reappeared.
“You home? Was passing by—need to pop in.”
“What for?”
“Left my favourite umbrella. Autumn’s here—need it back.”
“Fine. Take it.”
She humoured him, letting him rifle through drawers for “forgotten” belongings. Yet she saw the truth—he was searching for excuses to return.
When nothing remained to reclaim, he spun a new tale.
“Emma, I’m coming over. Wait up.”
“Lost something else?” she asked, rubbing her hands with quiet delight—just as Sophie predicted.
“Missed Rufus. Bet he misses me too.”
“Rufus? Miss you? Dogs—and women—don’t wait for traitors.”
“Still dropping by. Hannah’s locked me out—fitness retreat till tomorrow. Need a place to crash.”
“Try a hotel.”
“But… maybe just dinner?”
Emma sighed. “Fine.”
James arrived, waxing poetic about her cooking.
“Your mushroom potatoes—I’d sell my soul for them! Hannah’s meals? Bland. Always dieting. Asked for chips once—she screamed! Said I’d get fat.”
Emma laughed. He looked pitiful—thinner, older, worn out by his “exciting” new life.
“Eat. You need the weight,” she said, slipping Rufus a hefty slice of meat. James eyed it wistfully—the dog ate better than he did.
“Time to go,” Emma announced as he lounged before the telly, slipping into old habits.
“Let me relax! Been ages since I had a decent evening.”
“I’ve got plans. Sorry.”
“What plans?” He squinted, unable to fathom his once-loyal wife moving on.
“A date,” she said, watching his face twist.
“With who?”
“None of your business. Clear out. We’ll need the sofa.”
James left, ego bruised. He’d expected old comforts—her bed included.
Over days, his calls grew desperate.
“Just miss you. Seven years—hard to shake the habit.”
At first, Emma relished his regret. Now? Just irritation.
“How do I shake him off?” she asked Sophie.
“Time for payback.”
“Honestly? He’s miserable enough. No need to take him back just to dump him.”
“Then ignore him. Block his number, bar the door.”
She tried—but James only doubled down. Calls from unknown numbers. Flowers at her office. Lurking outside.
“James, stop. I’ve moved on,” she pleaded, stunned. Six months ago, she’d never have believed this.
Now, she walked Rufus in another neighbourhood to avoid him.
“Stay with me,” Sophie offered.
“But the flat?”
“Rent it out. My colleague’s looking—just for a month.”
“Deal.”
“Fair warning—she’s a perfectionist. The type who tightens taps and resets microwaves.”
They laughed, and Emma finally called a plumber for her leaky kitchen tap—lest she lose her tenant.
When the doorbell rang, her stomach lurched—but it wasn’t James.
“Evening. Plumbing issue?”
“Yes, come in.”
Tom was young, capable, and charming. The tap was fixed in no time.
“Mind checking the bathroom sink? And this shelf is wobbly…”
Two hours later, her flat was immaculate.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
As she paid him, the doorbell echoed. James. Again.
“Bloke at the door. Don’t worry—I’m in uniform. He won’t get ideas,” Tom joked.
Emma flushed. “Actually, I need… the opposite.”
“Eh?”
“My ex. Won’t take the hint.”
Tom nodded. “Seen it all. Had stranger requests.”
“Really?” She blushed deeper.
“Need more than plumbing help? Happy to oblige,” he winked, shrugging on his jacket.
Emma watched from the window as James loitered outside, spotting the handsome stranger leaving.
Days later, Sophie called.
“Bad news—my colleague found another place.”
Emma sighed. “Can’t move in with you anyway—Rufus sets off your son’s allergies.”
“Right… Plan B?”
“Think I’ve got one. That plumber… Shelf in the bathroom collapsed—perfect excuse to call him again.”
Sophie demanded details, but Emma promised to share later.
Tom wasn’t surprised by her call.
“Be there tonight.”
He arrived out of uniform—jeans, t-shirt, and… flowers.
“For you. Just because.”
“Thank you. Here’s something too.” She handed him a plate of stew.
They chatted easily until James buzzed again.
“Emma! Where’ve you been?”
“Busy living my life.”
“What life? Work and telly? Stop lying! I’m coming over—need those old curtains. Rented a flat nearby. Bare as bones.”
“Not happening, James. I’ve got company. Feeding him stew.”
Silence. Then Tom played along.
“Let him come,” he said loudly.
James heard. “Fine. I’ll see this ‘date’ for myself.”
Emma sank into a chair.
“Relax,” Tom murmured. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’d pretend to be my…?”
“Course.”
“Price?”
“That stew with sour cream’ll cover it.”
Tom was a brilliant actor. When James barged in, he found them laughing in the kitchen, flour dusting Tom’s shirt.
“Making dumplings,” Emma beamed. “Mushroom and potato.”
“Who’re you?” James demanded.
“Tom. Her fiancé. And you’re the ex who won’t take a hint?” He rolled up his sleeves, flexing.
James paled. “She’s lying. Who’d want her? She’s—”
“I do. Or why’re you sniffing around? Listen, mate—see you near her again, and I’ll tighten something *real* tight with this wrench.”
Emma handed James a bin bag. “Curtains. Last favour. Now go.”
Muttering, he left.
Tom stayed. They made dumplings—mushroom and potato.
“Do you often rescue women from exes?” Emma asked later.
“Yours was a first. Usually, they want… different help. Politely decline.”
“Married?”
“Nope.”
“Take leftovers as thanks.”
“Better idea—let’s eat them together next time.”
She smiled. Rufus wagged his tail.
Endings are just new beginnings. Who knows?
