If You Think I Do Nothing for You, Try Living Without Me!” — Wife’s Emotional Outburst

“If you think I dont do anything for you, try living without me!” Emma snapped.

That evening, the silence in their house felt heavier than ever. She slowly stirred the soup on the stove, listening to the monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall. Once, that sound had irritated herback when the house was full of their sons laughter and constant noise. Now, it was her only companion in the emptiness of what used to be a lively home.

She glanced at her husband. James, as usual, was buried in his phone, the glow from the screen reflecting off his glasses. There was a time when she found that comfortingjust knowing he was home, nearby. Now, it only made her quietly furious.

“Dinners ready,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.

He nodded without looking up. She set the table with the good chinathe set shed been saving for special occasions. But what special occasions were left? The boys rarely visited, no grandchildren yet. It was just the two of them now in this big house, every corner whispering memories of better days.

She ladled the soup, carefully adding fresh parsley and thyme from the little pots on the windowsillherbs she grew just for his favourite dishes. A fresh loaf of bread, sliced neatly, sat beside his bowl.

James finally put his phone down and picked up his spoon. She held her breath. First bite. Second. On the third, he frowned.

“Tasteless again,” he muttered, pushing the bowl away.

Something inside her snapped. Emma looked at her handsred from hot water, rough from years of work. Shed spent all day on her feet: washing his shirts, ironing his trousers, making that bloody soup. On the stove, his favourite teathe one she brewed just right because “anything else tastes off”was still steeping.

Her eyes flicked to the pile of ironed laundryeach item folded precisely, the way he liked. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of folding shirts *just so* because “otherwise they crease.”

“You know what?” Her voice shooknot with tears, but with anger. “If you think I dont do anything for you, try living without me!”

He looked up, properly meeting her eyes for the first time all evening. Surprise flickered across his face, as if he couldnt believe *she*his quiet, dependable wifehad raised her voice.

Emma shoved her chair back. It screeched against the floor, but she didnt care. She grabbed her coatthe old one shed had for years because “why do you need a new one? This ones fine.”

“Where are you going?” His voice held a note of alarm, but she was already out the door.

The cool evening air hit her face, and for the first time in years, Emma felt like she could breathe. She didnt know where she was going. Didnt know what came next. But for the first time in too long, she wasnt afraid of the unknownjust dizzy with something like freedom.

—

The little flat on the third floor greeted her with silence. Not the oppressive kind from home, but something lighter, airier. No ticking clock counting down her life. No disapproving looks. No endless *why didnt you*

She woke earlya lifetime of habit. Six a.m., time to make breakfast, iron a shirt, pack a lunch But today was different. Emma lay in an unfamiliar bed, watching sunlight crawl across the wall. No one rushing her. No one expecting anything.

“I can just lie here,” she whispered, then laughed at how absurdly simple that sounded.

But old habits didnt let go easily. Her hands itched to tidy, to dust, to fall back into routine. She caught herself.

“No. Today, I do what *I* want.”

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time, studying her reflection. When had she last *really* looked at herself? Not a quick check before leaving the house, but properly? The lines around her eyes were deeper. More grey in her hair. But her eyes they looked alive.

Outside, the October morning smelled of fallen leaves and coffee from the café down the street. Shed passed it a hundred times before, always hurrying to the shops. “Waste of money,” James always said. And shed agreed, telling herself home-brewed was better.

A bell jingled as she stepped inside. The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon wrapped around her. Emma hesitated, feeling like an intruder in this cosy space.

“Morning!” The barista smiled. “What can I get you?”

“I” She faltered. Shed brewed coffee for others for years but never stopped to think what *she* liked. “What do you recommend?”

“Our caramel latte with cinnamon is lovely. And the almond croissants just came out of the oven.”

In another life, shed have said notoo expensive, too indulgent, *what would James think?* But today

“Yes, please. And a croissant too.”

She sat by the window, watching people pass. At the next table, a group of young women laughed loudly over some shared joke. Emma realisedwhen had she last laughed like that? Not politely, not because she had to, but because she meant it?

The first sip of coffee spread caramel warmth over her tongue. She closed her eyes. God, had life always been this *good*?

Her phone stayed silent in her bag. For the first time in twenty-five years, James wouldve woken to no breakfast, no ironed shirt, no packed lunch. Was he angry? Worried? Or had he even noticed?

“More coffee?” the barista asked.

Emma checked her watchold habit. This was usually when shed be back from the shops, starting lunch. But today

“Yes, please. And another croissant.”

—

The phone rang as she unpacked her few things in the rented flat. “Daniel” flashed on the screenher eldest. Her hand trembled. For the first time, she didnt want to answer her own childs call.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Mum, whats going on?” Daniels voice was sharp, just like his fathers. “Dad says you left. Are you serious?”

Emma sat on the edge of the bed. How could she explain to her grown son what she barely understood herself? The years of quiet despair. The feeling of being invisible. The slow erasure of *herself* in service to everyone else.

“Dan, I just”

“Oh, come *on*!” he cut in. “Youre a grown woman. So Dad criticised the souphes always been like that! Whys this suddenly a crisis?”

His tone was patronisinglike she was a child throwing a tantrum. Emmas throat tightened. Even her son, the boy shed carried, loved, raiseddidnt see her as a person with her own wants.

“Its not about the soup,” she said quietly.

“Then what?” His voice turned commanding. “Whats so bad? Dads beside himself, by the way. He actually tried cooking last night. A *disaster*.”

She pictured itJames fumbling with vegetables, swearing at the cooker. Once, that image wouldve sent her rushing back. Now

“See?” She almost smiled. “Turns out he *can* look after himself.”

“Mum!” Daniel sounded horrified. “Youre breaking up the family! What will people *say*?”

*People, people* That echo again. All her life, shed lived for these faceless *people*. What would the neighbours think? The relatives? Now even her son pressed on those same bruises.

She walked to the window. A pigeon preened on the ledge, utterly free.

“Have you ever asked how *I* felt all these years?” Her voice steadied. “Ever wondered what *I* wanted?”

“But you always”

“Yes! I did!” The strength in her own voice surprised her. “Twenty-five years of cooking, cleaning, supporting, sacrificing. And you all you didnt even *see* me. I was just *there*like a piece of furniture. Always functioning. Always serving.”

Silence. Then, softer: “Mum you always said family came first.”

“It does,” she agreed. “But Im part of that family too. Im a *person*. And I cantwontbe just staff anymore.”

“But Dad”

“Im not coming back,” she said firmly. “Not now. Maybe never. I need to learn how to live for *me*.”

After hanging up, she stood at the window a long time. The woman reflected in the shop glass stood straight, shoulders back, something new in her eyes. Resolve? Pride?

The phone rang againher youngest. Emma turned it to silent and thought, for the first time: *Theyre adults. Theyll manage.*

—

A knock at the door a week later. Emmas breath caughtshed known this was coming. Through the peephole: James, shifting awkwardly like he had decades ago on their first date.

She took