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A Ruthless Divorce: The Tale of Oksana and Archibald
Cold Divorce: The Dream of Emma and James
It is a strange, cold feeling to wake and discover love turning into an icy separation, without any explanation, shattering the comforting illusion of a safe home.
Where have you been? Emma asked, her voice wavering as James returned after three weeks away.
Its fine, James said calmly, as if he were a tired dog stretched out on a sofa. The trips have drained me completely.
Cant you just refuse? Emma murmured, staring at an invisible horizon.
Thats the problem, James sighed. Besides you, no one is waiting for me, and you dont want to let your colleagues down.
You understand everything, darling, Emma whispered sweetly.
If not everything, then most of it, she added, trying to sound supportive.
Emma already knew James had not travelled at all. She was certain where, and with whom, he had spent his time. Why did she speak so calmly? The reasons were heavy and real.
The next morning, after his departure, Emma found his passport hidden beneath the settee. How could he leave without his passport? she wondered. She called him.
Are you alright? she asked.
Everythings great, James replied.
And where are you now?
On a train, he answered, confidence in his tone.
Emma hung up, thinking, If he has no passport, either its missing or hes lying. No trip means another woman, and hes probably with her now. Tomorrow hell go to work as if nothing happened, and Ill see it then.
At eight fifty in the morning she stood at the gate of his office in Manchester, waiting in the early mist. She watched James slip through the doors. No other woman? she thought. Hold yourself together. I must discover where he goes after work and confront her.
When the workday ended, she trailed him down the cobbled street. Finding the truth was easier than she expected: several flatshare residents were loquacious enough to spill the details. One of them, Grace Whitaker, thirtyfive, unmarried, who had bought a flat two years earlier, admitted shed known James for half a year. Emmas mind filled with questions, but an inner voice cautioned restraint.
A sudden voice, as if from nowhere, whispered, Now is not the time for quarrels.
Why not? Emma retorted.
Because youre not steady: your hands tremble, your breathing quickens, and hate swirls inside you. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? How will you start that conversation looking like that?
The voice continued, Remember, if you erupt into a fight, theyll both look at you with pity, then laugh after youre gone, relieved youre no longer in their path. Is that what you want?
That inner voice gave Emma a cold, detached clarity. Ill have to divorce without explanationsquiet, indifferent, enough to hurt James, she decided, feeling a strange surge of resolve.
She drafted a plan in her dreamlike head:
Ill say were divorcing, period.
Hell press for reasons.
Ill calmly answer there are none.
The divorce is simply because I decided.
Then Ill meet his shock with indifference, quiet mockery, and a touch of rudeness.
The inner voice approved, adding, Do it quietly, brazenly, and calmlythis will strike at his pride hardest.
Bolstered, Emma prepared for Jamess return. For the first few days she pretended to believe his tales of work and trips, feeding him the illusion that their old love still existed.
Her first words upon his arrival were gentle, almost sympathetic. The next day, when James came home from work, the performance began. He felt confident, happy, unaware that everything was about to shift.
In the evening, stepping through the front door, he called out, Love, where are you? Your bunny is back! Jump into my arms!
Emma sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea from a delicate cup, eating a slice of Victoria sponge straight from the tin, her expression as calm as a lake. Too late, she thought, feeling the dream tilt.
James complained about his workloadendless tasks, endless trips without rest. Emmas reply was short and icy: I dont care. He fell silent, stunned by her coldness.
She drank her tea loudly, ate the cake with a spoon, never cutting it into neat piecesa behavior James could not comprehend.
Then, with a voice as steady as stone, she announced, Were divorcing. She forced a bold glance at him, adding, Understand? Divorce is simple. No reason. Divorce. End of story.
James was shocked. His anger rose at her refusal to explain. He tried to put her in her place, only to receive a quiet, Go away. Emma rose, moved to another room, declaring she would no longer eat cake nor offer any explanations to anyone.
The familiar bond had collapsedcoldness and indifference had reached their zenith. James tried to stay composed, but irritation festered inside him.
Whats happening? he wondered, eyeing the halfgnawed cake. Did she discover Grace? If so, there would be a scene, but there isnt. So it must be something else
He attempted a conversation. Emma, lets talk calmly.
Leave me, Im resting, she snapped.
He felt as though she were mocking him. You dont know what a divorce is? Divorce! Got it?
His questions lingered unanswered, the house hanging in a frosty silence. Suddenly, a knock soundedLucy and Megan, his daughters, stood at the door.
James greeted them warmly, only to be met with the same cold indifference Emma had shown. The sisters sided with their mother, their voices brazen and sharp.
Mum wants a divorce, she gives no reasons.
Why look for reasons when women today just walk away?
You must leave. This flat is now Mums, and youd be better off staying with Grandma in the village.
James tried to make sense of the onslaught, but he was unprepared for such an attack. The women of the household were united: the divorce was a fact, and there was no room left for past affection.
Grace was the hidden cause of the rupture.
Emmas icy response was revenge for the betrayal.
The daughters backed their mother, echoing her stance.
James was left alone, stripped of everything.
In the end Emma urged James to gather his belongings and go, stressing that the decision was final and uncompromising. He never grasped the precise point of no return.
The episode was drenched in bitterness and mutual misunderstanding, yet the chosen weapon was cold indifference and silent boycott, designed to inflict the deepest pain on the betrayer without open fights or scandals.
A final observation lingered in the dream: sometimes the most hurtful punishment is the quiet abandonmenta hushed, unexplained divorcewhen words lose meaning and hope evaporates into the empty void of a onceshared life.
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