“UNGRATEFUL”
“Emily, were starving! Enough lying about!” came the irritated voice of her husband from the doorway.
Her head throbbed, her throat burned, and her nose was completely blocked. She tried to sit up, but her body felt like lead. No surprise shed fallen ill.
All week had been scorching, but yesterday evening, sleet had poured down without warning. Classic British spring. No luck getting a taxihardly a shock in such weatherso shed taken the bus home from work instead. Thirty minutes waiting for one that was already packed. She barely squeezed in. Then a long walk from the stop, all while soaked to the bone.
Shed even asked James to pick her up on his way back.
“Em, me and Theo stopped by Mums. Well be late,” hed texted.
Typical.
By the time she stumbled through the door, she was drenched, shivering, and exhausted.
She glanced at the clock8 AM. Saturday.
“James, could you grab the thermometer, please?” she croaked.
“What? Youre ill?” he replied, baffled. “What about breakfast?”
“Could you manage without me?”
“Without you?” he blinked. “What about Theo?”
“The boys ten! And youre a grown man. Make scrambled eggs. Have him help. I taught him howhes old enough.”
“You taught him to cook?” James scoffed.
“Yes. Whats the problem? Hes glued to his phone all day, never lifts a finger.”
“Are you delirious? Hes a bloke! Men arent meant to cookthats womens work!” he snapped. “Right, fine. Well go to Mums since youre clearly not bothered. Be back Sunday.”
And just like that, the two “men” packed up and left.
Emily dragged herself up, found the thermometer, boiled the kettle, and slumped into thought.
*When had things changed? When did James stop being capable of making her a cup of tea when she was ill? When did every chore become her burden?*
The thermometer beeped102.4°F.
She swallowed her medicine and crawled back under the covers.
Her phone buzzed later. Mum.
“Emily, why havent you called? I was worried!” fussed Margaret.
“Just a bit poorly. Took medicine and went back to sleep.”
“A *bit*? Wheres James? Off with Theo at his mums again?”
“Yeah. Didnt want to catch it.”
“You believe that? More like didnt want to lift a fingerGod forbid he washes a dish!”
“Mum”
“Dont Mum me! I didnt raise you to be a servant. Did you check your temperature?”
“Earlier, yes. High. Feeling a bit better now, just weak.”
“Stay put. Dads coming to fetch you. No one should be alone when theyre ill. Wait there.” Click.
Emily forced herself up, washed, packed essentials and her laptop, and waited.
“Bloody hell!” Dad clutched his chest when he saw her.
“Whats wrong?!”
“Its *you*!” He took her bag, relieved. “Thought Death himself had come knocking! Youre white as a sheet!”
“Dad!” She managed a weak laugh. “Ready?”
“Hold onto me. You look like a stiff breezed blow you over.” He helped her into the car. “Christ, youre skin and bones. Your mums rightits like youve been sold into slavery. No offence, love, but you look awful.”
She didnt argue. Too tired.
At her parents, it was warm, safe, and full of love. By evening, Mums care had her feeling better.
She called James to say she wasnt home.
“What dyou want? Cant bring medicinehad a pint with Dad. Its Saturday! Footballs on. Oh, Mum wants a word.”
“Emily! Youre a wife! You cant just *relax* and leave your men hungry! What matters most? Keeping them fed, warm, and undisturbed! And here you areill! One pill and thats it?” sneered Patricia, her mother-in-law.
“Patricia,” Mum snatched the phone, “is your son infirm? Ill? Or just *helpless*?”
“Of course not! Men are just like that. James, whats going on?”
“*Ill tell you whats going on.* Nursing my daughter back to health. Real men, eh? Cant even fetch medicinetoo busy with beer. Wifes ill, and hes thrilled!”
“Rubbish! They left to give Emily *space*,” Patricia sniffed. “Princess needs meds and coddling? Healthy girl, just lazy! Neglecting her family! Well, *Ill* look after my boys. Your daughters a failure!”
Margaret hung up, seething.
“Love, is this really what you want? Youre young! This is beyond the pale.”
Then James texted:
*”Send money? Short before payday. Spent on Theo. Had to pay his clubs and clothes MYSELF!”*
*”While I covered rent and food all month? Seriously?”*
*”Well, its YOUR flat! Just send itIm at the shop!”*
*”No money. Spent on medicine.”*
*”What? Your illness is costing us! Ask your parents.”*
*”Ask yours.”*
*”Mumll ask where my wages went.”*
*”So will I.”*
*”Im a grown man! Dont owe explanations! SEND IT!”*
*”No.”*
Cue a barrage of textsselfish, ungrateful, terrible wife, worse mother. She muted them.
Sunday morning, James called:
“Emily, were staying at Mums. *She* loves and cares for usunlike you. She was right about rushing into marriage. Who knows what kind of mother shell be? Shouldve listened. Youre *nothing*.” Click.
“Good riddance!” Dad studied her. “Well?”
“Divorce. I dont want this.” She poked at her fluffy omelette. Decision made.
But God, it hurt.
Dad left abruptly. “Mum, Im off. Might miss lunch.”
“Em, take your meds, mute your phone, and sleep,” Mum urged.
She obeyed. Sunday. Work tomorrow. Rest now.
By afternoon, Dad returned.
“Here. Yours now. Toss those.” He tossed her new keys.
“What?”
“Changed your locks. Packed James and Theos thingsdropped them at Patricias. Stay with us awhile. And avoid your phone.”
Mum hummed happily in the kitchen. Theyd waited for this.
Emily filed for divorce.
The backlash was brutal*stupid, heartless, unfit mother, ungrateful wretch*. But for the first time in years, she was happy.
The divorce was quickno shared kids, no joint assets.
James had only taken Theo to dodge child support. His ex-wife hadnt cared. Hed never asked Emily. Never warned her. Never considered she and Theo clashed, that kids cost money, that the flat was *hers*. He forgot *her* too. Convenient, wasnt it?
*Hes a man! A father!*
And Emily? Well, she was just *ungrateful*.
But the court sorted it.
James and Theo now live with Patriciawho tracks their spending and makes them do chores. Three men? Not easy.
Emily? Thriving.
Bought herself a carno more sick days from bad weather.
And at 27, after a messy divorce?
Simple.
Shes learning to love herself.
