Running Late for Work Lately? Increased Workload Is Causing Frequent Delays.

Late from work again? Lately, the workload had piled up, so hed been coming home late more often than not.

Emma tucked the children into bed and wandered into the kitchen to boil the kettle for a cuppa. Still no sign of Simon. Hed been swamped at the office, staying later and later. She felt sorry for himafter all, he was the sole breadwinner. Theyd agreed after the wedding: shed take care of the home and future children while he provided. Three kids later, each arrival had thrilled him, and hed insisted they shouldnt stop there.

But Emma was exhaustedendless nappies, pureed meals, and sleepless nights had worn her down. Shed decided, firmly, that three was enough.

Simon finally stumbled in past midnight, oddly cheerful. He shrugged off her question about the late hour with a grin. “Long day at the office, love. We all needed a bit of a wind-down.”

“My poor darling!” Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “Let me fix you a plate.”

“Dont bothergrabbed a bite at the pub. Lost my appetite. Off to bed.”

With Mothers Day approaching, Emma arranged for her mum to watch the kids so she could pop to the shops. She wanted to make the day speciala romantic dinner, just the two of them. Her mum was happy to help.

Besides groceries and gifts, Emma decided to treat herself. It had been agesshe felt guilty dipping into Simons wages for clothes, and there was never time to shop anyway. Her last purchase? A worn-out tracksuit. Hardly date-night material. She browsed a boutique, selecting a few dresses to try.

As she slipped into the second dress, a familiar voice carried from the next changing room. “Mm, cant wait to get you out of that.”

A womans giggle followed. “Patience! Go pick something for your wife instead.”

“Why bother? Shes knee-deep in nappies. The kids dont care if shes in pyjamasas long as theyre fed and their toys are tidy! Maybe Ill get her a blender. Or a bread makershell *love* that.”

Emma froze. Moving silently, she kept dressing, ears straining.

“What if she asks where youve spent so much?” the woman teased. “Blenders dont cost *that* much…”

“Why should I explain? Its *my* money! I work; she sits at home wanting for nothing. I give her a household allowancethats enough. She should be grateful.”

The voices faded as they left. Emma peeked outher beloved husband was at the till with a blonde, kissing her full on the lips as he paid.

“Everything alright in there?” The shop assistants voice snapped her back.

“Fine!” Emma forced a smile, handing over the dresses. “Ill take them all.”

At home, after her mum left and the kids napped, Emma sat numb. Betrayednot just by the affair, but by how little he valued her.

She wanted to scream for a divorce, but practicality kicked in. *And then what? Hell swan off with her, and Ill be left with three kids and no income. Child support? Pennies.*

By evening, shed made her decision. Simon came home on timeno “late meeting” excuse. *Too busy canoodling at lunch*, she thought flatly.

Every shred of love had evaporated. He was a stranger now. The only discomfort? The thought of him expecting intimacy. Disgusting.

But Simon, apparently sated, didnt press the issue.

The next day, Emma polished her CV and sent it off. Days passed with her glued to her inbox. Finallyan interview at a firm. *His* firm.

After some hesitation, she went. Two hours later, she landed a flexible role with decent payenough to support herself and the kids.

She floated home. Her mum gaped at her grin.

“Mum, Simons cheating!” Emma blurted cheerfully. Her mum sat her down, alarmed.

Emma spilled everything. Her mums only question: “What now?”

“Divorce. Ive got a jobonce the kids are in nursery, Ill go full-time.”

“Wont stop you. No forgiving betrayal. Especially when he treats you like staff. Ill help with the kids.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Emma hugged her tightly.

The night before Mothers Day, Simon slunk in late. Emma ignored his excuses.

Next morning, as she fed the kids breakfast, Simon presented her gifta bread maker.

“To make life easier, love!” He leaned in for a kiss, but Emma dodged, standing.

“Ive got a gift for you too.”

Bemused, he followed her to the hallwaywhere two packed suitcases waited.

“Were divorcing. No more sneaking around.”

“How did you?!”

“Changing room. Shopping with your blonde. Keep the bread makershell *adore* it.”

Simons mask slipped. “Jealous? You let yourself go! Shes *gorgeous*not some frumpy housewife! My money, my business! Youre just a gold-digging nag!”

Emma shrugged. “Dont care. Go.”

She filed for divorce and child support. A week later, her mother-in-law banged on the door.

“Money-grubbing leech! Draining my son dry! Drop the demandshe owes you nothing!”

“He owes his *children*,” Emma snapped. “If his girlfriends short on cash, thats *his* problem.”

“Without his money, youll starve!”

“Watch me.” Emma pointed to the door. “Leave, or Ill call the police.”

Cursing, the woman stormed out.

Months later, the kids settled into nursery. Emma started full-time work.

“Hi.” Simon hovered at her desk. “Can we talk?”

“Busy,” she said, not looking up.

“Lunch, then?”

Emma finally met his eyeshe looked ragged. Shed heard the blonde dumped him when half his wages went to child support.

“No, Simon. No chats. No lunches.”