Turning Up the Heat on Marriage — “Listen, Liz… What if we tried an open relationship?” Victor asked cautiously. — “Come again?” Liz didn’t catch on at first, blinking in disbelief. “Are you serious?” — “Why not? Loads of people in Europe do it. They say it spices up a marriage,” Victor insisted with practiced nonchalance. “Like you said—having a bit of chocolate on a diet never hurts, keeps you from falling off the wagon. Just saying, variety’s the spice of life.” Liz blinked slowly, trying to process this. Comparing an affair to a chocolate bar—brilliantly stupid or just brazen? — “Vic,” she began, “if you want to leave, just go. I’ll give you all the freedom you want—just don’t drag me into your mess.” — “Liz, no need for the claws! I love you. There’s just… no spark anymore. We sleep back-to-back and only talk about groceries and bills. It’s all so dull. We could both use a shake-up. I’m not restricting you—go out, meet someone else, have some fun. Why not?” Liz narrowed her eyes. Suddenly it was crystal clear: Victor was lying. Those shifty eyes, the tapping fingers… Freedom—he wanted it yesterday, not tomorrow. — “Be honest. Have you already found someone? Is that why you’re suggesting this—so your conscience is clear?” — “Oh, here we go…” Victor sighed, waving her off. “Would I really be asking if that were the case? Honestly, I regret bringing it up now. Blimey, you’re such an old-fashioned girl. Never mind…” And with all the theatrics of a wounded saint, Victor exited to another room, leaving Liz alone with her thoughts. Twenty-five years. She’d given him her best years—weathered his soaring dreams and rock-bottom moments, the skint days, the ever-later nights at work which now cast themselves in a very different light… And there he sat, comfortably well-fed, urging her to be an accomplice in the crime of destroying their family. “Spice things up”… What a convenient little phrase. That night they slept in separate rooms. Or rather, Liz didn’t sleep. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, then the window, wondering how they’d come to this. Once, Victor would turn up with armfuls of lilacs, worked late into the night to give her a fairy-tale wedding, rejoiced at the birth of their daughter. Now… Maybe it would have been better if he’d just gone. Where was the point of no return? Was it when she stopped putting make-up on at home? When he first forgot their anniversary and blamed work? Not that it mattered now. Half of her wanted to file for divorce and forget it ever happened. The other half—how do you just throw away half a lifetime? Maybe there wasn’t any passion, but there was habit, a shared home, the comfort of routines. Victor had always been her rock. Their daughter was long moved out; the days ahead promised only old age, but she and Victor had nursed each other through illness and hardship. He’d once even taken a loan to help her mum—few men go that far. Liz boiled with mixed emotions—hurt, fear, anger. “Does he think I couldn’t find someone else?” she wondered. “That I’m some old has-been, destined to knit socks and stew for grandchildren, waiting patiently while he gallivants around town?” No, not likely. — “Fine,” she told him the next morning. “Let’s do it your way.” — “Sorry, what?” — “I said, I’m up for your ‘open relationship’ idea.” Victor nearly choked on his tea, bracing for a fight but getting calm acceptance instead. — “Well… good, then. Who knows—you might enjoy it,” he muttered. “I’ll be home late tonight, by the way.” Her heart clenched—so soon? That evening was drab and quiet. Liz felt hurt and discarded, as if she’d been weighed and found wanting, like an out-of-date mobile phone. She looked in the mirror. Tired eyes, crow’s feet, less-than-perfect skin. But her figure was still trim. Her hair thick. Maybe she was still attractive? Maybe Victor was the problem. Other men noticed her—like Andy, the new manager from the next department over. He’d arrived a month back—a silver-haired, charming bloke, with a bit of a raspy voice and a devilish twinkle in his eye. Hadn’t he complimented her, brought her coffee, held doors open? Last week he’d even invited her to dinner. — “Sorry, Andy, I’m on a diet. Married, you know,” Liz demurred. — “Lizzie,” he’d winked, “Marriage is a stamp in your passport, not a death sentence. But, I won’t push.” Victor wanted “variety”? Wanted her to “have some fun”? Very well. — Good evening, Andy. That dinner offer still open? Looks like I’ve got some free time—and just might break my diet, she typed into her phone. It wasn’t even revenge—Liz just wanted to feel alive, to remember she was a woman, not just some extension of Victor’s comfort zone. The rest of the evening was a swirl of unfamiliar thrills—Andy was a perfect gentleman, refilling her glass, listening attentively, looking at her like she was the only woman in the restaurant. Shame nudged at the edges, but excitement burned brighter—finally something more than Victor’s laundry and leftovers to fill her life. — “Your place, then?” Andy suggested, after dessert. “We’ll grab a bottle of wine, watch something… just keep the night going.” Liz nodded. Her mind screamed “Stop!”—but she remembered Victor’s face when he’d told her to “enjoy herself.” Yet as they arrived at Andy’s, her phone buzzed insistently—Victor. She ignored it once, then again. No use. — “Yes?” she answered, keeping her voice steady. — “Where the hell are you?!” Victor barked. “It’s ten o’clock—nothing to eat in the fridge, and you’re gallivanting about! Have you lost your mind?” Liz was caught off guard. Andy, hearing the commotion, slipped tactfully from the room, the romantic atmosphere dissolving. — “Actually… I’m on a date, Victor.” — “On WHAT?!” — “Do I need to draw you a picture? You wanted open relationships, told me to ‘see other people’. Well, that’s what I’m doing—meeting someone. Or does the shoe not fit?” A heavy silence—and then the dam burst. — “You seriously went off with someone? I was joking! I was testing you! You just couldn’t wait, could you? You fumed for a day and off you go!” Liz was stunned. — “Where were you tonight, Vic?” — “Nowhere! I was at work, that’s all,” he snapped. “You know what? I don’t need your diseases. Pack your things, or I’ll pack mine. Divorce it is!” And he hung up. Liz stared at the wall, feeling spat on and humiliated. — “Everything alright?” Andy asked. — “Yeah… just the usual,” Liz tried and failed to smile. — “Liz…” Andy glanced at his watch. “I think… maybe tonight’s not the night. You should go and, well, sort things out.” The fairytale ended; the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, and the gallant Andy reverted to a man unwilling to get tangled in family drama. Who could blame him? He wanted a pleasant diversion, but now he was in a soap opera. Maybe it would have been best to file for divorce at the start. But good ideas always come too late. That night, Liz didn’t go home. She booked into a hotel. No way was she facing an irate Victor—and she badly needed time to accept that things would never be the same again. Three years passed… Life, like a sculptor, whittled away the unnecessary, though not without pain. Victor found a new girlfriend—suspiciously fast, even before the divorce was finalized. She left him the day they split the house money—taking his share of the proceeds as a parting gift. Nothing happened with Andy, either. They still saw each other at work, but only exchanged polite small talk. Liz learned something: the men who happily play the lover role slip away at the first sight of a job opening labelled “life partner” or even “shoulder to cry on.” But Liz didn’t look for anyone else. Alone in her new flat, she discovered a surprising thing—time and energy on her hands. All her effort had once gone into keeping house and keeping Victor happy. Now, she could focus on herself, for herself. Morning swims eased her back pain, English classes kept her brain sharp. She cut her hair and changed her whole wardrobe. Most importantly—she became a grandmother. Her daughter, Maggie, had given birth six months before. At first, when scandal erupted over the divorce, Maggie sided firmly with Victor—he played the victim well, painting Liz as the betrayer. But time set the record straight. Maggie came round for a heart-to-heart, ready to confront her mother. But Liz told her the truth—Victor started all this, had been staying late for years, left her lonely long before the final act. Maggie, now married herself, understood her mum at last. When Victor hurriedly paraded a new girlfriend, Maggie firmly took her mum’s side. Now Liz sat in Maggie’s kitchen, little Sophie on her knee, the baby’s tiny fingers gripping her hand. — “Dad rang again,” Maggie said with a frown. “He wanted to pop round and see Sophie.” — “And?” Liz asked calmly. — “Told him we’d be out of town. I don’t want him here, Mum. He talks rubbish about you, then tries to get me to patch things up. I get wound up every time he’s about. And I don’t want him turning Sophie against you. He can keep all the ‘freedom’ he wants…” Liz didn’t reply—just hugged her granddaughter a little tighter. Victor got exactly what he wanted: total freedom. No one to bother him, no one to nag or interrupt him watching the telly. But as it turned out, freedom can have a bitter aftertaste of loneliness. And by then, it was far too late.

Warming Up a Marriage

Listen, Sarah… what do you say we try an open relationship? Richard asked carefully.

Sorry, what did you just say? Sarah wasnt sure shed heard him right. Are you being serious?

Whats so shocking about it? Its normal enough, Richard shrugged, forcing a casual air. In places like London they do it all the time, or so Ive read. They say it even keeps marriage interesting. You said yourself that a little treat on a diet can actually help you stick with it. Everything needs a bit of variety, right?

Sarah blinked, struggling to process what hed said. Comparing a mistress to a bar of chocolate was absurdly thickif not downright brazen.

Rich… she began quietly. If you want to leave, then just do it properly. Ill give you your freedom, but dont pull me into this nonsense.

Sarah, theres no need to get prickly, Richard replied. You know I love you. Its just, well, weve lost the spark. We sleep back to back and only talk about shopping and the electricity bill. Its all a bit stalewe both need a shake-up. I wouldnt be restricting you. Meet new people. Have a bit of fun. Wont do you any harm.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, clarity struck: her husband was lying. Darting eyes, fingers drumming nervously on the table… Yes, he wanted his freedom. Not today, not tomorrow. He had needed it yesterday already.

Tell me honestlyhave you already found someone else? And now youre suggesting this so you dont feel guilty? she asked flatly.

Oh, here we go! Richard waved a hand in annoyance. Why would I be asking if that were the case? Honestly, I regret even bringing it up. You really are a lady from another era. Never mind, forget it…

That said, her husband got up with the air of a wounded saint and left for the next room, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts.

Twenty-five years. Shed given him her best. Endured his highs and lows, the lean years, the countless late nights he now claimed were due to work but appeared differently in hindsight… And now, content and well-fed, he was proposing she become an accomplice in the undoing of their family. Have a bit of fun, indeed. How convenient.

They slept in separate rooms that night. Or rather, tried to. Sarah lay awake, staring at the ceiling, pondering how theyd ever drifted so far. Once upon a time, Richard would shower her with lilac, work diligently to afford a lovely wedding, and beam with joy at their daughters birth. And now… How she wished hed just left outright.

Where had the point of no return been? Was it when she stopped putting on makeup at home? Or the first time he forgot their anniversary, blaming a crisis at work? Did it even matter anymore?

On one hand, she wanted to file for divorce and leave it all behind. On the other, was it so simple to toss away nearly half a life?

They hadnt had much passion in years, just routine, shared belongings, solid habits. Yet shed always thought of Richard as her rock. Their daughter, Emily, had long since moved out. Age was creeping in, but theyd nursed each other back to health more than once. Richard even took out a loan to help Sarahs motherno small gesture.

Her emotions roileda mix of hurt, fury, fear. Maybe he thinks Ill never find anyone else, she thought suddenly, That Im some frumpy woman no one wants. Id just stay home, cooking his roast dinners, knitting socks for grandchildren, patiently waiting while he enjoyed his new freedom, popping back only when it suited him?

Absolutely not.

All right, she told him the next morning. Lets do it your way.

What do you mean?

Im agreeing to your open arrangement.

Richard nearly choked on his tea, expecting another argument, but she just said yes with icy calm.

Well… Thats good, then. Maybe youll even like it, he muttered. By the way, Ill be out late tonight.

A fresh stab in her chest. So quickly?

The evening was grey and silent. Sarah felt utterly discarded, appraised and found wanting, like a model past its prime.

She glanced in the mirror. Tired eyes, wrinkles at the corners, skin not as youthful as before. Yet her figure was still fit, her hair thick. Perhaps she was still attractive. Maybe the problem wasnt her, but Richard. Men had admired her before. Take Jamesthe recently transferred branch manager at her office, in fact.

Charming, with a bit of silver at the temples, a warm, slightly husky voice, and an arch look in his eye. From the start, hed held open doors for Sarah, complimented her, brought her coffee. Hed invited her for lunch more than once, and just the week before had proposed dinner at a restaurant.

James, Im on a dietits called being married, shed laughed it off then.

Sarah, marriage is a line in the registry, not a life sentence, James smiled back, But I wont press.

Richard wanted her to have fun? To meet others? Well, why shouldnt she?

Good evening, James. Is that dinner invitation still open? I think I might finally be ready to break my diet, she wrote in a message.

It wasnt even revenge. Sarah just longed to feel like a woman again, to reclaim the self her husband had trampled over these past days.

The rest of the evening was a mix of nerves and excitement. James was the perfect gentleman, pulling out her chair, refilling her glass, listening as if she were the only woman in the place.

Sarah felt a rush of shame, but also the spark of long-forgotten desiresto feel seen, at the very centre. Finally, her life contained something besides Richards grumbling and his endless laundry.

Shall we go back to mine? James asked, as she finished her dessert. We could pick up a bottle of wine, watch a film, continue the evening somewhere quieter.

She nodded. Inside, a voice was screaming: Stop! Yet the memory of Richards words propelled her on.

As they arrived at Jamess flat, her mobile rang insistently. Richard. She ignored itonce, twicebut it kept ringing.

Yes? she answered tautly.

And where the hell have you got to? Richard barked. Its ten oclock! Theres not a crumb of food in, nothing to eat, and youve disappeared! Youve got a damned cheek!

Sarah froze. James, hearing the shouting, retreated to the next room. The romantic mood evaporated.

As it happens, Im on a date, Richard, she replied.

A whatwhat do you mean, a bloody date?!

Do I need to spell it out for you? You suggested we see other people. That I get out, meet someone. Well, here I am. Finding someone else. Surprised?

A heavy silence, broken only by his spluttering. And then, the dam burst.

Youare you seriously out with some bloke? I was joking! I wanted to test you! To see if youd take the bait! Thats all! Turns out you were just waiting for the chanceput on the wounded act for a day, then sprinted off into the arms of another, did you?

Sarah was taken aback.

And where were you tonight, then?

Nowhere! At work! Thats the whole story, Richard huffed. Right. I dont want any nastiness from you. Pack your bags or Ill go. Were done here. I want a divorce.

And he hung up. Sarah stared at the wall, mortified and humiliated.

Everything all right? came Jamess gentle voice.

Yes… just bits and bobs. She tried to smile but couldnt.

Sarah, he checked his watch, I think tonights not the night. Perhaps you should go and sort things out at home.

The fairy tale was over; the carriage was again a pumpkin, and the perfect gentleman retreated from another persons quarrel. It was unsurprisinghed hoped for a light flirtation, not a family crisis.

In hindsight, a divorce petition from the start would have spared them both. But clear thoughts always come late.

That night, Sarah didnt return home. She checked into a small inn instead. Her heart needed time to comprehend that life would never be quite the same.

Three years slipped by…
Over time, life itself pared away the unnecessary, if sometimes brutally.

Richard found himself a new companion surprisingly fasteven before the divorce was finalised. She, however, left abruptly when their old house was sold, taking a good slice of his share along with her.

Nothing transpired with Jamesthey still passed in the office, but with only polite greetings now. Sarah grasped a simple truth: the men so keen on the role of lover often evaporate at the first whiff of life partner or even friend in need.

But Sarah no longer searched for someone. Alone in her modest new flat, she found herself awash with new energy, free of Richards endless demands. She began looking after herself, not for others, but for her own sake.

Mornings at the pool eased her achy back; English classes kept her mind sharp. She chopped off her hair and bought a whole new wardrobe.

Best of all, she became a grandmother.

Her daughter Emily had a baby girl, Sophie, six months back. In the heat of the separation, Emily had taken Richards side. He painted himself as the victima poor, betrayed man whose wife ran off with a lover and destroyed the family.

But with time, things settled into place. Emily came to visit, to air her grievances, to look her mother in the eye. And she saw not a wayward cheat, but a tired, honest woman whod simply endured too much for too long.

Sarah told the whole truth: that the suggestion had been Richards idea, that hed long since started coming home late, that shed felt lonely for years. Now that Emily was wed herself, she understood. And when Richard soon took up with a new mistress, Emilys allegiance landed firmly with her mother.

And so, Sarah sat in Emilys kitchen, her granddaughter Sophie clutching her finger in a new discovery of the world.

Dad called today… Emily said with a sigh. He wants to come see Sophie.

And what did you say? Sarah asked quietly.

I told him wed be out of town, Emily admitted. I just dont want him hanging around. One minute talking rubbish about you, the next asking me to help patch things up between you two. My nerves cant take it. And hed only try to turn Sophie against you. He can carry on enjoying his freedom…

Sarah said nothing, just held Sophie a little tighter.

Richard received exactly what hed fought for: absolute freedom. Now no one demanded his attention. No one interrupted his television. Only, he soon discovered that this freedom carried the bitter aftertaste of loneliness. And by then, nothing could be undone.