You Said You Married Me Because I’m ‘Convenient’—So What’s Wrong with That?” He Shrugged.

You said today you married me because I was convenient! she exclaimed. He merely shrugged. Whats so bad about that?

Are you wearing that old dressing gown again? Edward sneered, fastening his cufflinks with the precision of a man preparing for battle.

Sophie froze, the cup of tea in her hands. Steam curled upward, scalding her fingers, but she didnt pull away.

He is convenient.

Yes, convenient, he huffed, adjusting his tie before the mirror. Just like everything about you.

Sophie lowered her gaze. The tea had stopped steaming. The surface had darkened, reflecting the ceiling like a shattered mirror.

Ed, you

What? He jangled his keys, the metal clinking against his wedding ring.

Nothing.

The door slammed so hard the porcelain on the shelf trembled.

***

They had met at work. She, a quiet, unassuming accountant who tucked her hair into a careless bun. He, a brash manager whose laughter echoed through the corridors. Edward had courted her grandlyroses with dewdrops on their petals, candlelit dinners where he ordered her steak medium-rare without asking what she liked.

Youre not one of those women who fuss over trifles, are you? hed asked on their third date, smoothing a napkin over her lap.

No, Sophie had smiled, ignoring the warning bells.

Good. My ex was always making scenes

She hadnt thought much of it. Then came the wedding, the children, the house. Everything as it should be.

Only sometimes, when she tried on a dress with bare shoulders, hed say, Something simpler would suit you better.

Or when she applied lipstick before the mirror, hed mutter, Why bother? Youre only staying in.

Once, when she bought a new perfume with a light floral scent, he wrinkled his nose. Smells like a cheap shop. Are you trying to imitate that mousy woman from accounting?

And so she stopped wearing it.

On her birthday, he bought her a vacuum cleaner.

The old ones wheezing, he explained as she unwrapped it. Youre always sighing when you clean.

She thanked him. Then stared out the window until the children called her to cut the cake.

But she stayed silent. Because, all in all, he was a good husband. He didnt drink, didnt hit her, brought home his wages.

Wasnt that enough?

***

Did you ever love me?

The same evening. The same conversation. Edward avoided her gaze, as if checking the latch on the window.

Well youre the perfect wife.

Thats not an answer.

He sighed, as though explaining basic arithmetic to a child. Sophie, why must you make a fuss? Were fine.

Fine?! Her voice shook, not with tears, but with fury finally breaking free. You said today you married me because I was convenient!

So what? He shrugged. Whats so bad about that?

She studied him as if seeing him for the first timethe tan on his neck from tennis with colleagues, not her. The crease between his brows from irritation, not worry.

What about Emily?

His face twitched, as if pulled by an invisible thread.

Whats she got to do with this?

You loved her.

Yes, he admitted sharply, and that single word held more emotion than all their years together. But she wasnt practical.

Sophie felt something inside her snap like a broken heelshe could still walk, but never the same way again.

So I was the obedient replacement.

Dont be dramatic, he waved her off as if swatting a fly. Weve children. A home. What more do you want?

***

She hesitated.

Perhaps he was right? Perhaps love was a luxury, and family mattered more? Sophie stood by the window, watching raindrops smear the glass. Her fingerprints marked where shed stood so often lately, as if waiting for the world outside to give her an answer.

And Edward Edward carried on as if nothing had changed.

A week later, seeing she had endured again, he stopped pretending entirely.

Pasta again? He prodded his fork as if dissecting evidence of her inadequacy. Couldnt you at least add seasoning?

You said you disliked spice, she replied, her voice distant, as if someone else spoke for her.

So what? He pushed his plate away like refuse. Emily always

Sophie stood abruptly. The chair screeched, leaving another scratch on the flooranother invisible crack in their life.

If you want Emily, go to her!

Oh, dont start, he laughed, the sound cutting deeper than any shout. Where would I go? You know Im comfortable with you.

In that moment, she finally understood.

He didnt try to keep her. Not because he trusted her love, but because he trusted her obedience.

She noticed it in everything now.

How he no longer corrected her wrong outfitsjust walked past without looking. How his gaze slid over her as if she were part of the furniturea sofa no longer sat upon. How his calm days stretched into weeksno arguments, no complaints, just nothing.

And the worst part? That nothing was louder than any scream.

Clutching the kitchen counter, she realised: he wasnt even angry. He was waiting for her to submit, as she had with the vacuum cleaner, the perfume, the dresses.

Then something inside her turned over.

Not pain, not angerfreedom.

Because if they stop loving you but still get angry, you still exist.

But when even the anger fades

Youre already gone.

***

A month later, she filed for divorce.

At first, Edward didnt believe her. He stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Sophie pack the childrens clothes into boxes, as if she were a stranger.

Youre serious? His voice held uncertainty for the first time in years.

Sophie didnt look up. Yes.

Over nothing? He stepped forward, and she tensed.

Its not nothing, she said quietly. Im not furniture.

He laughed sharply. Always so dramatic!

Sophie finally met his eyes. His face was painfully familiar, yet different nowthe tight lips, the narrowed eyes. He was angry, not at losing her, but at his convenient world cracking.

Im tired of being convenient, she said.

Edward scoffed, snatching his keys. Fine! Do you think Ill struggle? You cant even cook properly.

The old sting. Once, such words would have made her doubt herself. Now they rang hollow.

Perhaps, she agreed. But someone thinks otherwise.

His face twisted. Ah, so theres someone else? Look at yourselfwhod want you?

The old ache tightened her chest. She almost said, Youre right, Im sorry, as she had countless times before.

But then she realised: she didnt want to anymore.

I do, she said firmly. I want myself.

He stared. Clearly, he hadnt expected that.

Youve lost your mind, he hissed. What about the children? Dont you care?

She closed her eyes for a moment. The children Yes, she thought of them every second.

Theyll learn what self-respect means, she replied.

Oh, stop! He waved a hand. Youre selfish. We have a home, security And youll throw it away over nonsense?

Sophie looked at him and suddenly understood: he truly didnt get it. To him, it really was nonsense.

For youyes, she said. For meno.

He turned away, jingling his keys. Fine. Youll regret this.

On the day she collected her last things, Edward suddenly asked, Do you really think youll find someone better?

Pausing at the door, she felt the breeze brush her face.

Better? She shook her head. I dont know. But at least someone wholl see me, not an empty space.

He said nothing.

And she stepped outside, where the air smelled of rain and freedom.

***

Two years passed.

Sophie married a man who kissed her shoulder each morning, even when she grumbled it was too early. Who whispered, Youre beautiful, when she wore an old dressing gown, her hair a mess, shadows under her eyes. Who once, spotting that same vacuum cleaner on sale, laughed and bought her peonies insteadjust because their pink matched her lips.

She wore perfume again. Painted her lips. Chose dresses with bare shoulders. And whenever she caught her husbands admiring gaze, warmth spread through herlike something long frozen beginning to thaw.

As for Edward

She bumped into him once at a café. He sat alone at a corner table, nursing