“My Son Needs It – Fifty Thousand Pounds, Stephen. Fifty. On Top of Thirty Grand in Child Support: W…

Fifty thousand pounds, Stephen. Fifty. On top of the thirty grand in child support.

Charlotte hurled the phone hard onto the kitchen table. It scraped across the worktop and nearly toppled to the floor before Stephens hand darted out to catch it at the very edgea small act that only infuriated her more.

Freddie needed new trainers and kit for football, Stephen placed the phone facedown, as if hiding the evidence. Hes growing, Charlie. Kids tend to do that, you know.

Trainers that cost fifty grand? What is he, the next Mo Farah?

There was a backpack, too. And a coat. Autumns coming.

Charlotte turned away; she couldnt bear to look at her husband just then. She already knew about these transfersevery month, sometimes more. Always the same story: my son, my duty, my responsibility. All noble words, but behind them lay the harsh numbers draining from their joint account into someone elses purse.

I love him, Stephen moved closer, stopping just a step from her back. Hes my son, Charlie. I cant just

Did I ever say abandon your kid? Im asking why were spending so much on top of child maintenance. Thirty grand a monthisnt that enough? Isnt Nina working?

She does.

Then whats the problem?

Stephen fell silent. Charlotte recognised that silence nowit meant there wasnt an answer, just the habitual nodding-along, helping-out, never-questioning. Always the good ex-husband, good father, good man. All at their expense.

She spun round, resting against the edge of the sink.

I keep track, you know? Mentally. How much goes out there every month. Want to hear the yearly total?

No.

Nearly six hundred grand. Not even counting todays fifty.

Stephen rubbed at his browanother familiar gesture, meaning Can we just not? But Charlotte couldnt hold back anymore. Shed played the reasonable wife for too long.

We planned a holiday. Remember? You promisedNovember, the seaside, two weeks. Wheres that money now?

Charlie, I get it. But Nina called, she said it was urgent

Nina. Always Nina. Shes always got an emergency.

Stephen slumped onto the stool, elbows on his knees. Suddenly, Charlotte saw how drained he wasa deep weariness, not from work but from being torn, again and again, between two women. For a moment, empathy stirred in her, but she crushed it before it could take hold.

She wants to buy a flat, Stephen said, eyes down. So Freddie can have his own room.

Sorry, what flat?

Bigger one. At the moment, theyre in a teeny one-bed. She says its cramped.

She says its cramped. And whos supposed to pay for it?

He finally looked at her, shame flickered across his face. Charlotte went cold.

Youre not seriously

She asked if we could help. With the deposit. Im just considering it.

Considering it? Stephen, thats thats a huge sum! Where on earth would you get it?

Weve put a bit aside. For a car.

We put it aside! For a car! For our family, not yours and hers!

Her voice broke into a shout; Charlotte clapped a hand to her mouth as if she could shove the words back in. Too latetheyd burst out, hanging heavy in the air between them.

Stephen got up and wandered over to the window, hands dug deep into his pockets.

Freddie is my family too. I cant pretend he doesnt exist.

No ones asking you to! But theres child maintenancelegal, official. Everything else is just your generosity. And mine, by the way. Because its our money.

I know.

But that doesnt stop you.

Silence. From next door, the muffled sound of a TVvoices and laughter from some comedy show, ridiculous backdrop for the tension suffocating the room.

Charlotte slipped into her usual seat, smoothing an imaginary crease into the tablecloth. Her insides were burninganger, betrayal, confusionbut she forced herself to speak levelly:

How much does she want?

Two hundred thousand for the deposit.

The number hung in the air. Charlotte laughedshort, bitter, without a trace of humour.

Two hundred thousand. Thats everything we have.

I know.

And youre seriously going to hand it over?

Its for my son.

Im against it. That money is mine, tooif you havent forgotten.

Stephen said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

A week later, Charlotte opened her banking app, just to see if her wages had landed. She scrolled down to their savings accountthe one theyd been building up for three years.

Balance: forty-seven thousand five hundred and two pounds…

She blinked. Refreshed the app. Checked again.

Forty-seven thousand instead of two hundred thousand…

The phone slid from her grip and dropped onto the rug.

Charlotte stood motionless, shock rooting her. Two hundred grand. Three years of saving, sacrificing holidays, scrutinising every big expense. Nowforty-seven thousand left. The bare bones of their future.

She picked up her phone and checked the transaction history. Transfer to Nina Elizabeth Carter.

Not even bothering to hide it.

Stephen was on the sofa with his laptop when she barged into the room. He looked up to smileand the smile shattered as he saw her face.

You blew all our savings on your ex?!

Her scream cut through the flat, raw and shaking. She didnt care if the neighbours heard, if the whole building heard.

Charlie, wait, I can explain

Explain?! Two hundred thousand pounds, Stephen! Two! That was our money!

He set the laptop aside, rose slowly. His eyes held no guilt, just a stubborn, irrational determination.

Its for Freddie. He needs a proper room, proper living conditions. Im his dad, I have a responsibility

You have a responsibility to your family. To me! Not the woman you divorced four years ago!

Shes the mother of my child.

And what am I?!

Youre my wife. I love you. But Freddie

Stop hiding behind Freddie! Charlotte stepped towards him, and Stephen automatically backed away. You bought a flat for Nina. Not for your sonfor her! The flats in her name, isnt it? Shell live there, use it, and if she wants she can sell it or splash the cash on whatever. Hows that about Freddie?!

Stephen opened his mouth and closed it. Nothing to say. Of course there wasntshe was right and he knew it.

You still love her, Charlotte whispered, barely audible. Thats what this is. Not about Freddie at all. You just cant say no to her. You never could.

Its not true.

Then why? Why didnt you ask me? Why did you decide for both of us?

Stephen reached for her:

Charlie, please. Lets talk calmly. I understand youre angry but I did this for my son

Charlotte recoiled from his touch.

Dont touch me.

Three words, and it was as if a wall had sprung up between them. Stephens arms hung frozen, and finally, comprehension settled on his face. Far too late.

I cant do this, Charlotte walked past, into the bedroom, and grabbed her bag. I cant live with someone who makes decisions alone. Who lies. Who

I didnt lie!

You didnt tell me. Same difference.

She stuffed the bare essentials into the bagunderwear, paperwork, phone charger. Stephen lingered in the doorway, watching as his life came undone.

Where are you going?

My mums.

For long?

Charlotte zipped up her bag, slung it over her shoulder. She looked at her husbandthis grown man with confused eyes, who had no clue what hed really done.

I dont know, Stephen. Honestly, I dont know.

Three days at her mothers flat passed in a haze. The first, Charlotte just lay on the settee gazing at the ceiling. Mum brought her tea, asked no questions, only stroked her hair, like she used to when Charlotte was little. The second day brought angersudden, cleansing, freeing. The third, clarity.

She rang a solicitor she knew.

I want a divorce. Yes, Im sure. No, theres no chance for reconciliation.

Stephen called every day. Text messages toolong, muddled, full of explanations and apologies. Charlotte read them, but never replied. What was left to say? Hed chosen. Now she would choose.

A month later, Charlotte moved into a rented one-bed flat at the far end of the city. Small, with a view of the industrial estate, but it was hers. Just hers. She picked the curtains, arranged the furniture, decided where every pound of her pay would go.

The paperwork went through swiftlyStephen didnt fight it, signed everything in silence. Maybe hed hoped she would change her mind, but she didnt.

Sometimes, in the evening, Charlotte would sit by the window and wonder at the strangeness of life. Three years ago, she was convinced shed found her person. Now she sat alone in an empty flatand, oddly, wasnt afraid.

Charlotte opened her notebook and wrote the number: zero. The starting point. Next to it, her plan for the month, the next six, the next year. What to save, where to invest, what courses to take to boost her career.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, the future depended on nobody but her.