The Great Sofa Standoff: A Tale of Unshared Comfort

28March

Ive never imagined Id be writing this, but tonight the house feels more like a battlefield than a home. I paced the bedroom, fingers twitching as I opened and shut the wardrobe doors halfheartedly, trying to keep my thoughts from spiralling.

Did you really think Id just sit there and watch you wink at every passerby? Emily shouted, hurling her handbag onto the sofa. Divorce and split the assets! Gather your cash and get out. This is my flat.

The flat might be yours, but everything in it is mine. I paid for it all, James retorted, jaw clenched.

Fine, go! Emily snapped, slamming her bangs back into place. I dont want to see you again!

We married a year ago, a whirlwind romance that seemed impossible to live without. We met on a scorching summer day, both walking down the same pavement, eyes locking for a split second before we both turned away, then laughed, stopped, and started talking. He walked me to the bus stop, we said goodbyes at dusk, met again at sunrise, and never truly left each other’s side.

Everything was perfectuntil yesterday, when a flicker of jealousy sparked over an old schoolmate we ran into at the Whitby Shopping Centre.

Emily almost walked past without recognising the woman with the overplucked lipsher former classmate, Claire Bennett.

Recognition problem, love? Oliver Hart, the womans friend, grabbed Emilys sleeve. Or you just cant place me? I saw you from across the aisle, youve barely changed, still all grey and dull

Claire? Sorry, I didnt recognise you, Emily stammered, fearing shed hurt her feelings. Claire looked almost like a motherinlaw, her haircut copied from Olivers style, looking fifteen years older than herself.

Fancy a coffee? Lets chat, Oliver suggested. My legs are killing me, Ive been running errands all morning. Dads got a birthday coming up, Im on a shopping listcant even find half of it.

Why not? James said, eager. I could use a bite, Im starving.

Emily didnt object. She hadnt seen Oliver since the school leavers party ten years ago, and she was curious about where everyone had ended up.

James ordered a pork chop with veg, the girls ordered ice cream.

Remember Mark? Oliver asked Emily, glancing at James. The one who used to chase me around school.

I do. But wasnt it you who kept an eye on him in the locker room?

Exactly! He was tailing me for two years. Hes settled in Manchester now, family there, good job. Whod have thought?

I saw his photos in the group chat. Thought he just went on a trip. What about Zoe Varley? No sign of her.

Dont know, she vanished after having a baby; the bloke left. Guys always chased her. And Tom Parker? He kept inviting me to the afterparty at graduation. Oliver smiled at James. He got married, divorced. He posts hearts under his picturesno thanks. And your Greg? He became a farmer!

Why is he my Greg? James asked, bewildered.

Because you never chased him? Oliver laughed, looking at James.

James shovelled his chop, ignoring the gossip. Emily, however, grew restless.

I didnt chase Greg, youre mixing things up, she said, pulling a compact mirror and a lipstick from her bag, reapplying her rouge. James, are you done? Weve been eating forever.

They stood, said goodbyes, but Oliver lingered.

Are you driving? Could you give me a lift? Im not keen on lugging my bags on the bus.

She slipped into the passenger seat, piling her tote onto her knees, flicking her hair.

I thought youd have a fancy car, but yours looks like a budget lemon. No bank will give you a decent loan, huh? I could’ve helped my husband get something nicer.

James turned to Emily, chuckling. What smart people say. I wanted to, but youre expensivewont make it work.

No, no, we definitely need a more reliable car, Oliver persisted, pursing her lips like a duck. Its risky driving further out of town. My brother brought a car from Europe. Its not comparable. Want my number? He can find you something worthwhile.

Youre a businesswoman through and through, Emily laughed. Helping your brothers business? Fine, give me the number; it might come in handy someday.

Emily fidgeted behind Oliver, trying to stay calm, turning the tense chat into a joke.

The moment we stepped back into the flat, the dam broke.

Are you the good one and Im the bad one? she lunged at James. Did you refuse the boy a car because you were stingy? Money? Now you run off to thatlipped woman! Goodbye!

Are you serious? James was stunned. You dont get jokes, youre jealous, thats all

Who, me? Come on, lets hear it. Did you see us winking at each other? If I hadnt been in the car, youd already be with her! She puts me down and you nod along.

Enough! Im tired of this pointless drama.

Are you fed up with me? Ive guessed it all along. I dont want to see you anymore. Divorce! No doubts left.

Im done, Emily said, voice shaking. I said everything.

Its ridiculous to throw a scene over this, maybe we rushed.

Exactly!

Shed hoped to scare him into apologising, not to have the argument spiral this far, but she wasnt backing down.

Divorce it is, James said, stopping in the middle of the room, looking around. Well split the assets as the law demands.

Youve always been a miser, Emily muttered.

If I demand fairness, does that make me a cheapskate? Im not a fool handing everything to a spoiled doll. Ill take the furniture; you keep the flat.

Nothing like that. We bought the furniture together. Split it halfandhalf. I want the wardrobe, you get the chest of drawers, I take the sofa, you get the table

Hold on! Your halfandhalf is nonsense. Im taking the sofa I bought it with my own blood money.

I see no point negotiating. I wont give you the sofa. Ill call my parents.

Fine, bring the heavy artillery. Ill call mine.

Mom and dad arrived within the hour. First they tried to patch us up, then realised we were set in our ways and started listing debts.

From your side youve given us a modest starter flat, albeit a bit shabby, but we paid for the wedding, helped with the furniture, the car, the flat repairs. James earns ten times what Emily does, hes fed her for a year shoes, clothes, everything. So, fair enough, she should leave everything to us, the motherinlaw, Mrs. Clarke, declared.

The fatherinlaw sat silent, dabbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, his face flushing and paling as he listened.

Mrs. Clarke gasped, about to unleash a tirade, but James placed a hand on her shoulder.

Not now, Anna. Well need lawyers. Lets go to court; no point wasting more time or nerves.

He rose, heading for the door, signaling the end of the discussion.

Emily, are you with us? his mother asked.

No, Emily replied, standing firm, Ill guard the flat so nobody sneaks anything out.

Through the courts it is, then, the motherinlaw proclaimed, Well collect every receipt, every bank statement. Youll pay us back, and you, James, will watch every spoon and plate. She turned to her husband. Harold, fetch the papers.

James watched her leave, a grim smile on his face.

Emily, left alone, muttered, Mum, youre something else Now I see who you really are.

What? You think Im wrong? James asked, halfamused.

God, what have I gotten myself into! You can chase the checks all you like, but this flat is mine, and I wont hand over the sofa. Its mine! Take the rest if you want.

We picked the sofa together, its as much yours as mine. My salary is bigger, we bought everything on it. Stop being a drama queen, Emily.

Drama queen? Ive worked a year for you cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, even stayed up all night because you wouldnt let me sleep!

Is that billable? Brilliant, James laughed. Did you think you found a free servant? I bought everything, a benefactor!

Everyones helped, my parents gave money, my mothers right. The sofa is mine; I wont leave without it. I bought the wardrobe, the rug, the PC, even your bag.

I even got you a sweater, gloves, underwear take them off!

He stumbled, raised an eyebrow, and moved toward her with a sly grin. Alright, here we go.

The sofa was ultraplush, springy

Morning found his mischievous eyes on me.

Whats so funny? I asked.

Just thinking I dont want to lose such a brilliant sofa.

The sofa!

With whom else?

Swear youll never wink at any other lippy woman again! I grabbed his ears, staring straight into his eyes.

I swear, no more winking, he chuckled. Id do anything for that sofa.

And thats where we are stuck in a mess over a piece of furniture, our marriage unraveling, our families at war, and a flat that feels less like home and more like a battlefield. I dont know how tomorrow will look, but tonight Ive written it all down, hoping the act of putting pen to paper will somehow make the chaos a little clearer.

Emily Clarke