Claire was frying meatballs when her husband walked into the kitchen. – “Claire, we need to talk,” Mark declared firmly. – “Talk,” the woman snapped. – “Maybe sit down and listen properly?” Mark’s voice sounded impatient. – “I never… I have to keep an eye on the meatballs,” the wife replied. – “What did you want to tell me?” – “I…” Mark stammered, barely finding words. – “I’ve met another woman… I’m leaving you!” – “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you,” Claire said calmly. – “Do you mean congratulations? Are you happy for me?” the man looked at his wife in surprise. But Mark could not have imagined what Claire was planning at that moment.

**Diary 12May**

I was panfrying mincedmeat patties when Mark slipped into the kitchen.
Emma, we need to talk, he said, his voice unusually firm.
Go on, I replied, flipping the patties.
Theres something I have to tell you. Can you sit down and listen properly? his impatience slipped through.

I didnt look up. Im watching the patties, Mark. What is it?

He stumbled over his words. I Ive met someone else Im leaving you.

A strange calm settled over me. Congratulations, then. Im genuinely happy for you.

His eyebrows shot up. What do you mean? Happy for me?

I watched his bewildered stare, knowing exactly what I was about to do.

Sarah, my neighbour, paused for a breath, as if weighing whether to say more. Honestly I still cant believe youre willing to do that. Its beyond any limits, Emma!

Beyond what? I asked. Good or bad?

Its like looking at something you shouldnt, she whispered.

I smiled. Whatever you look at, the outcome matters. Mine is brilliant I got exactly what I wanted.

She frowned. There will be negative consequences, you know.

Dont start yelling, I snapped. Well deal with the fallout when it arrives. Right now Im in a period of joy and genuine triumph, so dont ruin my celebration.

She shrugged, feigning interest in the view outside her window.

Everything began that evening when Mark, returning from work, tried to hide his embarrassment.
We need to talk he said, voice low.

My heart tightened; Id been waiting for him to finally summon the courage.

Speak, I said, turning the sizzling patties.

Maybe you should sit down and listen properly? his impatience was palpable. Or should I talk to your back?

Sit, love, I replied coolly, Oliver will be asking for me soon enough, so lets not waste time. What is it?

I Mark faltered, Ive met another woman

And then? I asked without turning, still tending the meat.

Turn off the pan! he snapped, irritation flaring. Do you hear me? I love someone else!

I hear you, I finally faced him, and I congratulate you.

His shock was total. Hed expected rage, not indifference.

Quiet, please, youll frighten the children, I said, keeping my composure.

Did you know? Mark panted.

No, I didnt, I shook my head. But I had my suspicions.

He looked puzzled. Suspicions?

Of course. Would you have guessed Id stay late at work for hours, hide my phone in my pocket, or move to another room for a flimsy excuse? I paused, then added, Everyone feels loveor the loss of itat some point.

Then why stay silent when you understood everything? he asked, a little calmer.

Because you made the proposal, and tearing the family apart is also yours to decide, I said, eyes twinkling.

What are you saying?

If you wanted a fling, youd keep it hidden. Since youve started this conversation, you must have already made a decision. So go on, say whatever you like.

Mark stared at me, unable to recognise the woman before him. So much poise, selfrespect. He thought tears would fall.

I have a proposal, he began.

That sounds interesting, I said, perching on a stool and fixing him with a steady gaze.

Our mortgage is youll barely manage the payments, especially with alimony in the picture.

Will we even discuss divorce? I asked, my tone metalsharp, something he didnt notice.

Whats there to discuss? he shrugged. You wont forgive me, I suppose.

Exactly, I smiled. You know me, all wornout edges and nothing new.

So, Mark went on, missing my sarcasm, it would be better if you moved into your own onebed flat while I stay here.

And the kids?

Theyll go with you, of course, he said, as if that settled everything.

So Ill live on eighteen square metres with both children, while you and your new love stay in our threebed flat?

Yes. You cant afford the mortgage on your own. Ive been paying it alone all this time.

Understood, I said, standing. I need a moment.

I stepped onto the balcony.

Fine, go ahead, Mark called after me, a hint of amusement in his voice. Shell think about it, as women always do.

While I lingered outside, Mark shoved a couple of patties and a scoop of mash onto his plate and started eating.

I didnt finish my own dinner.

I agree, I announced, returning to the kitchen, but on one condition.

What condition now? he asked, a forced grin on his lips.

Youll stay in this flat with your lover and our son. My daughter and I will move elsewhere.

What? his face twisted in disbelief, eyes darting upward. You want to split the children?

Exactly. Whats wrong with that? I replied calmly. The children are ours, the responsibility is equal. Let the son you dreamed of live with you, and the daughter stay with me. Thats fair.

Are you out of your mind? You cant split children like furniture!

Of course I can, I said, unshaken. Ill carry them for the rest of my life, while you enjoy your leisure. Not that it will happen.

Ill still pay child support, as best I can

Naturally. Youll pay me, Ill pay you. We raised them together, well raise them together. If you dont want the boy, take the girlshes older, easier to manage. See, Im willing to meet you halfway.

No, I knew you were odd, but this is beyond! Mark shouted. You want to use the children as bargaining chips?

Dont imagine, Mark. Youre not worth fighting over. I just want fairness. You keep the threebed flat and the son; I get the onebed flat and the daughter, plus reciprocal support. Thats the only way well part amicably, as they say. Otherwise Ill fight. I wont give up a single penny. Think somewhere else.

He left the room.

He consulted his sister, his mother, his old friend Sarah. All urged him to believe Emma was bluffing, that a proper mother would never hand over a child for a few square metres. They told him to accept her terms, saying within days Emma would have the child in her care.

As for Marks new lover, Olivia, she was thrilled. A threebed flat in the city centre? She could hardly dream of such a gift. The prospect of also gaining a fouryearold boyOlivia seemed to overlook that entirely.

Within a few days Mark called me, agreeing to my conditions.

Perfect, I replied, insisting he file for divorce the next day.

Why me? he asked, trying to resist.

Because youre the husband. Its easier for you to pay everything.

The logic seemed sound, and he filed.

Three months passed before the divorce was final. By agreement, Mark moved into Olivias flat. I began packing for a new place, fielding criticism from relatives who called me heartless, accusing me of abandoning my son.

The gossip spread: She split the children, gave him the boy, kept the girl for herself.

My sisterinlaw, Charlotte, even muttered, I thought you loved us

I listened, sometimes answered, sometimes stayed silent, sometimes walked away just to avoid further words.

Marks world soon collapsed. He called me in desperation:

Emma, we need to talk. Its urgent.

I drove over.

Whats happened? I asked, a hint of sympathy in my voice.

Please, take Oliver away from me. I cant do this anymore.

Whats wrong?

Im exhausted, Emma. Olivia left me.

I understand, I said, hiding a smile. But

No buts, please.

What do you mean?

Move the kids in with me, all together, and Ill leave.

And then youll make demands?

No demands. Ill transfer the flat to you.

Can you cope with a fouryearold? I asked, amused. You always said I did nothing.

Im sorry, I just didnt think

Do you agree?

On the condition everything is legally documented.

Mark stared at me for a long moment.

I didnt know you were so mercenary.

Im a teacher, you know, I retorted.

He kept his word. The flat was put in my name. I now pay the mortgage; the childsupport money goes to both children. Every weekend, barring a rare exception, Mark visits with a bouquet for his exwife, a token of gratitude for my cooperation.

Now the aunties and cousins pity Mark and label me a monster, saying Ive shown no heart to my little boy. Yet Im basking in my victory, without regret, and I refuse to believe any negative consequences will ever catch up with me.