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

Oliver slams the fridge door, nearly scattering the contents, and a magnet clatters to the floor with a sharp clang.

Emma stands opposite him, pale, her fingers clenched into fists.

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

Youve really gotten on my nerves, Oliver croaks, trying to keep his voice steady. Is this what life is? Endless drab monotony with no spark at all?

So its my fault again? Emma replies with a rueful smile. Of course, nothing ever goes the way you want.

Oliver bites his lip, about to speak, but waves his hand. He snaps the bottle cap off a mineral water, gulps it down, then slams the empty bottle onto the table with a thud.

Oliver, stop being silent, Emmas voice trembles with a sharp edge of hurt. Tell me, what exactly is bothering you?

Whats there to explain? he snarls bitterly. Youll never understand anyway. How long can I endure this hopelessness? Its over, everythings over!

They stare at each other for a moment, wordless. Emma takes a deep breath 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 full to drown out her sobs.

He doesnt care.

The years that have lost their colour

Three years ago they marry and move into a flat that Emmas parents handed down to her. Her parents, now retired, have moved to the countryside and registered the property in their daughters name. The flat is spacious, but it still smells of the old days: dated furniture, peeling wallpaper, sections of ripped linoleum.

At first Oliver doesnt mindcentral location, a wonderful neighbourhood, the office just a short walk away. But the novelty quickly wears off. Emma feels comfortable in what she calls the family nest, while Oliver insists the place is stuck in another era, and he feels hes suffocating.

Emma, admit it, he presses repeatedly, doesnt this setting bother you? The wallpaper, the linoleumdont you want a fresh look, a few modern touches?

Yes, I do, Emma answers calmly. But we need to wait for a bonus or save up gradually.

Wait again? Your whole strategy is to sit quietly and wait! Oliver snaps.

Once Oliver bragged about a budding project that would someday bloom and impress everyone. Now hes convinced that the bud has long since withered, never opening its petals.

Emma lives for simple pleasures: a freshly brewed cup of tea, evening reading, a new kitchen towel. To Oliver, all of that feels like a stale standstill.

He cant bring himself to leave herhe doesnt want to move back under his parents roof, a situation thats always been tense. And his mother, Margaret, constantly supports Emma.

Boy, youre missing the point, she scolds. Emma is a wonderful, sensible girl. You live in her flat, why are you dissatisfied with everything?

Mother, you and Emma are like two drops of water stuck in the stone age, Oliver mutters.

His father, Michael, just waves his hands dismissively.

Let them sort it out themselves, Margaret.

Watching Emma, Oliver sometimes thinks, Shes like a shadow and yet she ties me to this flat.

At last his patience snaps.

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

Because of what? she asks calmly, tears glistening.

Because of this daily grind! You spend all day with pots and cloths while I refuse to waste my life like this!

Without a word Emma grabs the trash bag, slams the door, and walks out.

Oliver stays, assuming shell turn back and beg him not to leave. When Emma does return, she looks astonishingly composed.

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

Youre staying here while I go? Oliver protests. This is my home too!

Youre mistaken, Oliver, Emma replies with an icy smile. This is my parents house.

A few weeks later he moves into his own place.

They finalize their divorce.

An unexpected encounter

Three years pass.

Oliver, still living in his parents house, convinces himself that soon hell find his own place and everything will fall into place. But work brings no real progress, new acquaintances dont turn into lasting relationships, and his parents keep hinting that hes no longer a teenage boy but an adult.

One spring evening, as he drives home late, a small café with soft lighting and gentle music catches his eye.

He intends to go in, but then stops.

By the entrance stands Emma.

However, the Emma he remembers is nothing like the refined woman now before him. A stylish coat, an elegant hairdo, car keys in her hand, a calm gazeall of it shouting confidence and happiness?

Emma? he blurted.

She turns, recognises him in an instant.

Hi, Oliver, she says evenly.

Hey you look stunning, he manages.

Thanks, she smiles. Im finally living the way I always wanted.

Are you still at your old job? Oliver asks.

No, I opened my own flower studio, she replies, pride bright in her voice. I hesitated for a long time, but someone finally supported me.

And whos that? he blurts, unsure why he asks.

A man steps out of the café.

He wraps his arm gently around Emmas shoulders and says, Love, a tables free. Shall we?

Emma turns to Oliver. This is Vadim. And this is Oliver.

Its lovely to see you again, Oliver, she adds. I hope youre doing alright too.

Oliver nods silently.

His lips move as if to say something, but the words freeze. He watches them walk away, hand in hand, disappearing through the café doors, while a bitter envy builds inside him.

He once thought he was living with a bud that would never bloom now he sees the bud has finally opened, just not beside him.