Bumped into My Ex-Wife and Almost Turned Green with Jealousy

Oliver slams the fridge door, nearly toppling the shelves, and a magnet clatters to the floor.

Milly stands opposite him, pale, fists clenched tight.

Feeling better now? she says, jutting her chin up in a challenge.

Youve really gotten under my skin, Oliver croaks, trying to keep his voice even. Is this what life isbleak grey and no spark?

So its my fault again? Milly smiles ruefully. Of course it is; nothing ever goes the way you want.

Oliver grits his teeth, about to retort, then flicks his wrist, snaps the cap off a bottle of sparkling water, pours it straight from the throat, and shoves the glass onto the table with a clamor.

Milly, stop holding back, she says, a sharp edge of hurt in her tone. Tell me whats really bothering you.

Whats there to explain? he snarls. Youll never get it anyway. How long can I endure this hopelessness? Im done with everything!

They stare at each other in silence for a moment. Milly inhales deeply and heads for the bathroom. Oliver collapses onto the sofa. Behind the closed door a loud splash of water echoesperhaps shes turned the tap on to drown out her sobs.

He doesnt care.

Three years ago they married, moved into a flat that Millys parents had left her. Her parents, retired, had relocated to a cottage in Kent and transferred the lease to their daughter. The flat is spacious but still smells of the old days: dated furniture, peeling wallpaper, bits of cracked linoleum.

At first Oliver didnt mindcentral London, a wonderful neighbourhood, his office just a short walk away. But the novelty wore off quickly. Milly feels cosy in the family nest, while Oliver claims the place is stuck in a bygone era, suffocating him.

Milly, admit it, he often starts, doesnt this setting bother you? Time to replace the wallpaper, swap the linoleum, bring in some modern touches?

Sure, Id love that, Milly replies calmly. But we need to wait for a bonus or save up gradually.

Wait again?! Your whole strategy is just to sit and wait!

Oliver used to brag that hed unearthed a bud that would someday blossom and amaze everyone. Now hes convinced that bud has long withered, never opening its petals.

Milly lives for simple pleasures: a fresh cup of tea, evening reading, a new kitchen towel. To Oliver its all dull stagnation.

He cant bring himself to leave herhe doesnt want to move back under his parents roof, a relationship thats always been tricky. Plus his mother, Margaret, constantly supports Milly.

Son, youre being unreasonable, she chides. Millys a wonderful, sensible woman. If youre living in her flat, why are you so dissatisfied?

Mother, you and Milly are like two drops of water stuck in a stone age, Oliver retorts.

His father, George, merely waves his hands and says, Let them sort it out themselves, Margaret.

Sometimes Oliver looks at Milly and thinks, Shes like a shadow, yet this flat holds me fast.

At last his patience snaps.

Milly, I cant do this any longer, he whispers, standing by the window.

From what exactly? she asks calmly, tears glistening.

From this monotony! You spend all day with pots and cloths, and I refuse to waste my life like this!

Milly, wordlessly, grabs the trash bag, slams the door, and walks out.

Oliver stays, convinced shell soon return and beg him not to go. When she does come back, her composure is striking.

Maybe its really better for you to live apart, she says coolly. Then pack your things.

Youre staying here alone while Im leaving? Oliver protests. This is my home too!

Youre mistaken, Oliver, Milly replies with a cold smile. This is my parents property.

A few weeks later Oliver moves into his parents house. They finalize their divorce.

Three years pass. Oliver continues to live with his folks, telling himself hell soon rent his own place and everything will fall into place. Yet nothing improves: work offers no breakthroughs, new acquaintances never turn into steady relationships, and his parents keep reminding him hes no longer a teenager but a grownup man.

One spring evening, as he trudges home late, a small café with soft lighting and gentle music catches his eye. He pauses at the doorwayand there stands Milly.

But the Milly he sees is nothing like the shy woman he remembered. She wears a sleek coat, her hair is perfectly styled, she holds car keys, and her gaze exudes confidence and happiness?

Milly? he blurted.

She turns, recognises him in an instant, and smiles.

Hi, Oliver, she says evenly.

Hey you look amazing, he manages.

Thanks, she replies, a hint of pride in her voice. I finally have the life I always wanted.

Are you still at the old job? he asks.

No, I opened my own flower studio, she says, proud. It took ages to decide, but someone finally believed in me.

Whos that? he blurts, not even knowing why he asks.

A man steps out of the café, walks over, and gently puts an arm around Millys shoulders.

My love, a table just freed up. Shall we go? he says warmly.

Milly turns to Oliver.

This is James, she introduces, and this is Oliver.

Its really nice to see you, Oliver, she adds. I hope youre doing alright too.

Oliver nods silently. His lips part, ready to say something, but the words stick. He watches as Milly takes Jamess hand, smiles, and disappears through the café doors. A bitter pang of envy rises inside him.

He once thought he was living with a bud that would never bloom. Turns out the bud did bloomjust not beside him.