Know Your Place, Woman

Know your place, woman, the voice seemed to echo through the fogladen streets of a London that never quite solidified.

David, Ive told you a hundred timesthis isnt the moment for children, Annabelle shut her laptop with a soft click and turned toward her husband. Ive just been offered the lead on a new project. Its the chance Ive been waiting three years for.

Ive been waiting for an heir for three years myself! David shouted, his tone snapping like a cold wind. Emma, were both thirty. The biological clock is ticking, and youre still dreaming about a career.

Annabelle exhaled slowly. The argument had become a ritual over the past six months, each time Davids insistence growing louder, his words a metronome of outdated expectations.

My work matters! Im not abandoning a post for fatherhood, she replied.

Thats different! A man must provide, a woman must bear, he retorted, his voice a stubborn stone.

She pressed her lips together. The archaic view that clung to Davids mind seemed to surface more often, as if their marriage had peeled back a thin veil that once hid those old ideas.

Natural order is when people decide for themselves when to become parents, Annabelle said, rising to clear the desk. Im not ready now. End of story.

When will you be ready? At forty? At fifty? Davids voice rose, a crescendo of urgency. Or perhaps never at all?

Roxy, the ginger mutt curled on the balcony ledge, lifted her head and gave Annabelle a worried glance. The dog always sensed the tension that crackled through the flat.

Well think about it in a couple of years, Annabelle whispered, sitting beside the dog and rubbing the soft fur of her head. Right, love?

David watched the gesture, his brow furrowing. Thats the problem. You waste all your maternal instincts on that mutt.

Dont speak of Roxy like that, Annabelle snapped, turning sharply. Shes family.

Family? A dog is an animal, not a child! David slammed his palm onto the table. I wont tolerate this any longer!

The following days became a siege. David devoted every waking hour to persuading his wife. At dawn, before Annabelle could even pry her eyes open, he launched another lecture on parental duty. By dusk he met her with fresh arguments about ticking clocks.

Look at Megan, he said, scrolling through social media. Shes your age and already has two children. And Lena from your department? She gave birth last year.

Megan has been at home for three years, complaining her brain is atrophying, Annabelle countered. Lena went back to work after four months because the money ran out.

Youre just scared of responsibility!

And youre scared Ill outshine you.

On Friday, their quarrel was joined by Evelyn Clarke, Davids mother, who settled into the kitchen chair with the weight of another generation.

Annabelle, dear, she began, David has told me everything. I understand work is important, but a womans primary purpose is to continue the line.

Annabelle winced inwardly. Evelyn belonged to the era when women married at twenty and saw motherhood as the only script.

Well sort this out ourselves, Evelyn, Annabelle replied politely.

How will you sort it? Three years have passed! In my day the first child arrived within a year of marriage, the second was planned by the third, the mother-inlaw huffed. Times have changed, dear.

Times have changed, Annabelle said, striving for calm.

Changed, yes but not for the better. Women once knew their place.

David nodded, silently backing his mother.

Ill decide where my place is, Annabelle said coldly.

Evelyn pursed her lips, exchanged a knowing glance with David, and whispered, Annabelle, youre selfish. David is thirtyone, he wants a child.

Then let him find someone ready to bear his heir right now, Annabelle shot back.

A heavy silence settled. Davids face turned ashen, Evelyns mouth opened in outrage.

Maybe I will! David declared.

When Evelyn left, Annabelle took a long walk with Roxy through the twilight park, the dogs tail a metronome of joy as she paused to sniff the world or chase a passing pigeon. Those evening strolls had become islands of peace amidst the domestic storm.

You know, love, Annabelle murmured to the dog, watching Roxy dart after a flock of gulls, sometimes I think youre the only one in this house who truly gets me.

Roxys russet snout turned toward her, eyes amber with devotion. Annabelle crouched and pulled the dog into her arms.

I found you in a shelter, skinny and scared. Look at you nowa proper beauty, she whispered.

Roxy licked her cheek gratefully, and Annabelle laugheda sound that hadnt escaped her lips in weeks.

Back at the flat, a brooding David sat on the sofa, arms crossed, his silhouette a warning.

Ive made a decision, he announced.

What is it? Annabelle asked, unfastening Roxys leash as the dog trotted to her water bowl.

Either a child or the dog. Choose.

Annabelle froze, leash trembling in her grip.

You understand me perfectly. If you want to keep the marriage, get rid of the mutt. If you wont have children, I wont watch you play mother to an animal.

David, are you mad? she said, turning slowly. Roxys lived with me for four years!

I wont stand a dog being more important than me.

She isnt more important! Its just

Just what? he interrupted. Just that you waste time, money, emotion on her that should be mine and our future childrens!

Annabelle sank onto a chair, the absurdity of the scene striking her.

Youre jealous of the dog?

I demand my wife behave like a wife, not like an old spinster with cats!

Its a dog, not a cat.

Dont be clever! David barked. Decision made. By Sunday this mutt must disappear, or you start preparing for pregnancy!

Roxy, hearing the raised voices, padded over and rested her head on Annabelles knees, her warm breath a balm better than any medicine.

What if I refuse? Annabelle whispered.

Then our marriage ends.

She spent Saturday ruminating. David avoided her, grimaced at the sight of Roxy, sighed loudly as if the dogs presence caused physical pain.

Times running out, he reminded her that evening. Answer tomorrow.

Im ready, Annabelle replied calmly.

She had weighed every angle. The choice between dog and husband was a false dichotomya battle between devotion and manipulation, between genuine love and emotional blackmail.

Great! David cheered. Well take her to the shelter tomorrow.

Tomorrow Im gathering my things and moving in with my parentsRoxy included.

Davids face fell. Youre seriously choosing the dog over me?

Im choosing the one who loves me without conditions.

Sunday erupted in chaos. David shouted, threatened, pleaded, then shouted again. He promised generous forgiveness if Annabelle changed her mind, swore to compromise, but it was too late.

Youll regret this! he roared as Annabelle carted the last suitcase out. Who else will put up with your whims?

Ill find someone, she smiled. And hell love dogs.

Roxy waited in the car, patient as if she sensed a new chapter beginning.

Annabelles parents welcomed her with open arms. Margaret Jones immediately began preparing a dinner for three, while Ian Jones set up a plush dog bed in the living room.

We always thought this marriage was a mistake, her mother admitted, hugging her. We just never said it out loud.

The divorce was surprisingly swift. David, seeing no possible compromise, let the paperwork glide through. Annabelle moved from her parents house into a sleek flat overlooking HydePark, her focus turning back to work and, at last, happiness.

Five years slipped by unnoticed. Annabelle headed a major department, earning a tidy £80,000 a year, and lived in a spacious apartment with park views. Roxy had grown, her coat silvered but her spirit still bright, greeting Annabelle each evening with unbridled enthusiasm.

Maxwell Reed entered her life naturallya colleague from a neighboring department who first became a friend, then something more. He accepted Roxy without complaint, never grumbling about fur on the sofa, even taking her for walks when Annabelle stayed late.

Its absurd, the way some people force a choice between family and a pet, he mused after she recounted the first marriage. Its just nonsense.

David thought otherwise, Annabelle replied.

He was foolish, Maxwell said, then quickly added, Sorry, I didnt mean to speak harshly of your ex.

No apologies needed. Youre right.

On a warm day Annabelle strolled through the park with Roxy, the dog no longer chasing pigeons but walking beside her, still curious about everything around them.

Roxy, stop! a familiar voice called.

Annabelle turned, heart stuttering. David walked the path, hand in hand with a fouryearold boy. Beside them, on a leash, trotted a ginger mutt uncannily like Roxy.

Emma? David halted, eyes widening. What a coincidence.

Hello, David, Annabelle answered calmly.

The boy let go of his fathers hand and ran to the dog. Roxy, whos this? Your sister?

Annabelle smiled, glancing at her former husband. What a funny name match.

David flushed. Vince wanted a dog. What could I do? The name just popped into my head.

Got it, Annabelle said, not pressing the matter. Nice boyhe looks a lot like you.

Thanks. Are you married?

Yes. Maxwell is wonderful, and he loves dogs.

David nodded, speechless.

Dad, why is that lady sad? the boy asked.

Im not sad, Annabelle replied, smiling. Just thinking.

About what?

How everything turned out well.

When they parted, Annabelle lingered on the path, watching Davids figure recede. He had gotten what he wanteda child, and even a dog. The problem had never been the animal; it had been people trying to reshape each other. With Maxwell, she never had to choose between career and family, nor between love for a pet and love for a man.

Lets go home, love, she said to Roxy. Maxwell promised a tasty dinner.

Roxy wagged her tail, and Annabelle felt that sometimes fate collides mismatched partners just to teach us to cherish the right ones.