He despised his wife. Despised her
Theyd lived together for fifteen long years. Every single morning, for those fifteen years, her face was the first thing he saw. Only in this last year did her little habits begin to disturb himespecially one: each dawn, shed stretch out her arms in bed and with a sleepy smile say, Good morning, sunshine! Todays going to be smashing. The sentence was harmless enough, but the sight of her thin hands, her dreamy face, grated on him in a way that made his skin itch.
She would rise gracefully, glide past the frosty window, and for a moment stare out into the misty distance. Then shed slip off her nightdress and drift towards the bathroom. There had been a time, early in their marriage, when her bare body amazed hima kind of wildness bordering on decadence. Her figure hadnt changed much, but now her nakedness made him almost furious. Once, he even wanted to give her a shove, to rush along her morning routine, but he clenched his fists and only snapped,
Hurry up, for heavens sake! Im tired of waiting!
She moved through life quietly; never in a hurry. She knew about his affairknew even the name of the young woman hed been seeing for three years. The sting to her pride had faded, leaving behind a quiet sense of not being needed. She forgave her husbands bitterness, his neglect, his desperate attempts to reclaim something of youth. Still, she never let him pull her from her slow, thoughtful paceshe was intent on feeling each minute pass, truly living every one.
Shed chosen this peace after learning of her illness. The disease was eating away at her, month by month, and victory was in its grasp. Her first wild urge was to tellto cry out about her condition to everyone, to break the sharpness of the truth into smaller pieces and scatter them to her family. But after that solitary, agonising night with the certainty of her coming death, she decided to keep it secret, determined. Each day her life slipped through her fingers, replaced by a calm visiona kind of patient wisdom.
She found her solace in the village library, an hour and a halfs journey along winding, hedged lanes. Every afternoon, shed lose herself in a narrow aisle between shelves labelled by the old librarian The Mysteries of Life and Death, searching for some book that might finally explain it all.
He went to his lovers cottage. There, everything was bright, warm, and alive. Three years theyd been together, and his love for her was wild, uncontrolledhe burned with jealousy, shame, and a need for her youth so fierce he could hardly breathe. Today, he made up his mind. Divorce. Why make three people miserable? He didnt love his wifeworse, he loathed her. With this other woman, life could begin again, full of promise.
He tried to remember, just once, the feeling hed once held for his wifenothing. He swore shed always grated on his nerves, even the day they met. He reached into his wallet, took out her photograph, and, sealing his decision, tore ittiny shreds falling like snow around him.
They arranged to meet at a restaurantthe very place theyd celebrated their fifteenth anniversary half a year ago. She arrived first. Before leaving, hed stopped at home, rummaging through drawers in a jittery search for the divorce papers. In his frenzy, he scattered their contents across the floor.
In one drawer, he found a dark blue folder, sealed along its edge. Hed never seen it before. He knelt, tore open the tape, expecting anythingeven proof of her suspicions. Instead, he found stacks of test results and stamped records, hospital letters, medical certificates. Every single page bore his wifes initials and surname.
The truth struck him like a cold current: she was ill. He fumbled for his laptop, typed her diagnosis. Six to eighteen months, glowed the words, pale on the screen. Checking the dates, he realised six months had passed since her first appointment. Afterwards, he barely remembered anything except that phrase: Six to eighteen months, spinning in his mind.
She waited for him at the table, forty minutes passing. His phone didnt answer. In the end, she settled the billthirty-six poundsand stepped out into the street. It was glorious, an autumnal afternoon; the sun was gentle, warming without scorching, and she lifted her face to the sky, thinking, Life is so beautiful, how lucky we are, beneath this sun, beside the woods.
For the first time since hearing the news, she was filled with sorrownot for others, but for herself. Shed managed to keep her terrible secret from her husband, parents, and friends. She wanted, above all, to spare them from worry, even if it meant destroying herself. All shed have left soon would be memories.
She wandered, watching peoples eyes glimmerthey looked as if all lay ahead, with winter slowly coming and, after it, the promise of spring. Such hope was denied her now. Bitterness grew inside and spilled out in tears she couldnt keep back, an endless stream onto her coat.
At home, he paced the floor like a trapped animal. For the first time, he felt the shortness of life like a blowhis breath shallow, chest tight. He remembered her as shed been in their youth, when they first met and everything seemed possible. Back then, he truly loved her. Suddenly, those fifteen years seemed like a blink, as though the past could be erased and the future still wide openfull of joy, youth, and life
In these last days, he devoted himself to her, utterlynever leaving her side, feeling a strange happiness, a fear that she might slip away any second. He would have given his own life to keep her by him. If anyone had reminded him that, mere weeks ago, hed hated her, dreamed of divorce, he would have sworn, That wasnt me.
He saw now how hard it was for her to part with the world. He saw her weep at night, thinking he was asleep. He understood, at last, there was no punishment crueller than knowing the hour of your own ending. He watched her fight for life, clinging even to foolish hopes.
She died two months later. He carpeted the road from cottage to churchyard with lilies and roses. He wept without shame, as openly as a boy, when her coffin was lowered, and felt a thousand years older.
At home, beneath her pillow, he found a notea wish scribbled at New Year: To be happy with him until my days are done. They say all New Years wishes come true. And maybe its right, for in that same year, hed written: To be free.
Each received, in the end, the thing they thought they wanted most.
