З життя
I’m Sorry for How Things Turned Out
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” I muttered under my breath.
“Richard, are you absolutely sure youve packed everything? Should I double-check?” I called out, pausing outside the closed bathroom door.
“Emily, leave it! Ive got everythinga whole suitcase. You saw it yourself,” he replied over the sound of the shower. But his voice his voice trembled. Or was I imagining it?
“I saw the suitcase. Not what you shoved inside,” I murmured, stepping back.
“Emily, make me a coffee, would you? Strong. No milk,” he added calmly as he turned off the water.
I walked to the kitchen, wordlessly grabbing the coffee pot, filling it with water, adding ground coffee, and a pinch of saltjust how he liked it. We have a coffee machine, but Richard prefers the way I make it. “Youre so thoughtful,” hed said just last night when he came home late from work and found his dinner wrapped in a tea towel to keep warm, just like my nan used to do.
Lately, hed been staying later and laterwork, he claimed. Career stuff. Preparing for a promotion. And me? I stood still beside him. Cooking, ironing, enduring.
“Heavenly scent of a heavenly drink!” Richard said as he strode into the kitchen, pushing damp hair from his forehead. He sat at the table and reached for the mug.
“Emily, a deliverys coming todayI ordered new seat covers for the car. Can you take them in? Cash on delivery,” he said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.
“Sure. Like always,” I sat across from him.
“This business trip couldnt have come at a worse time,” he sighed. “But I cant back out. You understandits an opportunity, maybe the only one. Department headno joke.”
“Yeah, course Never thought youd have to travel for a promotion.”
“Bosss call. Anyway, Ive got half an hour leftjust need to finish some emails.”
He stood and walked to the next room, leaving his mug behind. Fine. I couldnt blame himhe was stressed.
As I reached for his cup, my phone buzzeda message. I opened it.
*”Emily, Richards lying. Its not a business trip. Hes flying to Italy with Charlotte Wilson. Stop him before its too late. Hes ruining his life.”*
Lucy. His younger sister.
Something snapped in my head. Him with Charlotte? No. It couldnt be. A joke? But Lucy wasnt the type to send something like this for fun. And shed never lie.
Everything blurred. The air turned thick as concrete. I barely breathed. I forced myself up, poured a glass of water, and sank back into the chair.
I wanted to scream. To smash everything. But all I could think was: *Why?*
I clenched my fists, itching to storm in, to tear the mask off his face. But I didnt. He didnt deserve that.
Let him go. Id give him a surprise of my own. Not an argumentan action.
I opened the banking app. Our joint account£42,000. Shockingly, hed already been quicker: £10,000 was gone. My money, by the way. My earnings from freelance projects, my overtime. And he blew my savings on a holiday with his ex.
I knew about Charlotte. Richard had mentioned her, and Lucy had brought her up once. School sweetheart, a real piece of work. Dumped him twicefirst for an older guy, then for some “up-and-comer.” And now she was back. Richard was falling for it. And lying.
He couldve at least been honest: *”Emily, Im in love with someone else. Im sorry.”* It wouldve hurt, sure. But not like this. Instead, he slithered aroundwithdrew money, spun tales about a business trip, packed his bags
Fine. Id take the rest. Today. Every last penny. Thendivorce. His things? Courier to his parents.
I checked my calendaran important online presentation tomorrow afternoon. If all went well, Id take leave. Not Italy, no. Maybe Portugal. Somewhere hed never been.
“Emily, Id better get going. Traffics a nightmare,” he said, stepping into the kitchen, perfectly dressed, tie and all.
“Bye. Safe trip,” I forced out, gripping my mug.
“Whats with the tone?”
“Your imagination.”
“Ill miss you”
“Doubt youll have the time.”
“Arent you seeing me off?”
“Id rather wash up.”
“Right. See you, then.”
“Take care.”
The door slammed. Richard had no idea hed just left for good. Tomorrow, Id change the locks.
I slumped onto a chair. Sobbed. Bitter tears. From betrayal. From humiliation.
Another message from Lucy:
*”Emily, how are you holding up?”*
I wiped my face and called her.
“Lucy, where did you hear this?”
“One of Charlottes mates spilled. Shes back in Richards life. Hes falling for it again. Emily, Im sorry its”
“Thanks for warning me. I didnt stop him. Let him go.”
“Hes an idiot. Shell ditch him a third time.”
“His choice. Lucy, dont tell him I know.”
“Wouldnt anyway. Sick of his nonsense!”
“Thanks. Well stay in touch. Even after the divorce.”
“Course, Emily. Stay strong.”
I reopened the banking app. Another £3,500 gone. Hurry! No. I steadied myself. Id transfer the rest to my mums account. My own. He had no right to it.
“Mum, Im sending you £38,500. Hes already taken the rest.”
“Whats happened, love?”
“Were divorcing. Hes flying to Italy with his mistress.”
“Oh, Emily Hang in there. Weve got you. Thisll pass. Youll find someone who deserves you.”
“No, Mum. Im not looking. Maybe Ill just have a child. On my own. And be done with it.”
“Well thats an option. Auntie Margarets got that nephew, you knownice lad”
“Mum, not now.”
“Alright, love. Just dont give up, sweetheart.”
I ended the call. Pulled myself together. Tomorrow was a new day. Richard was gone, but I was still here. Whole. True. And my life was still ahead of me. No lies. No betrayal. No him.
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