You Said You Married Me Because I Was ‘Convenient’ Today! — So What? — He Shrugged. — Is That a Bad Thing?

You said today you married me because I was convenient! Sophies voice trembled. So what? James shrugged, barely looking up from his tie. Whats wrong with that?

Are you seriously wearing that old dressing gown again? He shot her a disgusted glance, adjusting his cufflinks like armour before battle.

She froze, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug. The heat stung her fingers, but she didnt pull away.

Its comfortable.

Yeah, convenient, he huffed, smoothing his tie in the mirror. Like everything about you.

Sophie looked down. The coffee had stopped steaming. Its surface was dark, reflecting the ceiling like a broken mirror.

James, you

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

Never mind.

The door slammed so hard the china on the shelf rattled.

***

Theyd met at work. She was the quiet accountant who tucked her hair into a messy bun; he was the loud, confident sales manager whose laughter echoed down corridors. James wooed her with roses still dotted with dew, candlelit dinners where he ordered her medium-rare steak without asking what she liked.

Youre not one of those girls who nitpicks everything, right? hed asked on their third date, smoothing a napkin over her lap.

No, Sophie smiled, ignoring the warning bells.

Good. My ex was always making scenes

She brushed it off. Then came the wedding, the kids, the house. Everything as it should be.

Except sometimes, when she tried on a dress with bare shoulders, hed say, Stick to something simpler. Thats not your style. Or when she touched up her lipstick, hed mutter, Why bother? Youre just staying home. Once, when she bought a new floral perfume, he wrinkled his nose: Smells like a cheap shop. You trying to copy Linda from accounts?

She stopped wearing it.

For her birthday, he bought her a hoover.

The old one squeaks, he said, watching her unwrap it. Youre always sighing when you clean.

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

But she stayed quiet. Because he was a good husband, really. Didnt drink, didnt hit her, brought home the money.

Wasnt that enough?

***

Did you ever love me?

Same evening, same argument. James glanced away, as if checking the window was shut.

Of course. Youre the perfect wife.

Thats not an answer.

He sighed, like she was asking him to explain basic maths. Sophie, why are you making a fuss? Everythings fine.

Fine?! Her voice shooknot with tears, but fury finally breaking free. You said today you married me because I was convenient!

So? He shrugged. Whats the problem?

She studied himthe tan on his neck from tennis with colleagues, not her. The crease between his brows from irritation, not worry.

What about Kate?

His face twitched, like someone had yanked an invisible string.

Whats she got to do with it?

You loved her.

Yeah, he admitted sharply, and that one word held more feeling than all their years together. But she wasnt wife material.

Something inside Sophie snapped, quiet as a broken heel. You could still walk, but never the same way again.

So I was the obedient, practical replacement.

Dont be dramatic, he waved her off like a mosquito. Weve got kids. A home. What more do you want?

***

She hesitated.

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

And James? James carried on like nothing had changed.

A week later, seeing she hadnt kicked off, he stopped pretending entirely.

Pasta again? He poked his fork like it was evidence of her failure. Couldve at least added seasoning.

You said you hate spicy, she replied, her voice distant, like someone else was speaking.

So what? He pushed his plate away like it was trash. Kate used to

Sophie stood abruptly. The chair screeched, leaving a scratchanother mark in that house, another invisible crack.

Go to Kate, then!

Oh, give over, he laughed, and it cut deeper than a shout. Where would I go? You know Im comfortable with you.

Thats when she understood.

He wasnt trying to keep her. Not because he trusted her lovebut because he trusted her obedience.

She noticed it everywhere now.

How he no longer corrected her outfitsjust walked past without looking. How his gaze slid over her like she was part of the furniturea sofa no one sat on anymore. How his calm stretches lasted weeksno fights, no complaints, just nothing.

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

Standing in the kitchen, gripping the counter, she realised: he wasnt even angry. He was just waiting for her to accept it. Like shed accepted the hoover. The unscented life. The woman who didnt nitpick.

Then something inside her flipped.

Not pain, not ragefreedom.

Because if someones angry with you, at least you still exist to them.

But when even the anger stops?

Youre already gone.

***

A month later, she filed for divorce.

James didnt believe it at first. He walked into the kitchen where Sophie was packing the kids things and froze, like she was a stranger.

Youre serious? For once, uncertainty crept into his voice.

She didnt look up, folding tiny jumpers neatly.

Yes.

Over nothing? He stepped closer; her shoulders tensed.

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

He laughedsharp, nervous.

Oh, here we go! Always overreacting.

Sophie finally met his eyes. His face was painfully familiar, but she saw it differently nowthe tight lips, the slight squint. He wasnt upset about losing her. He was annoyed his comfortable life had cracked.

Im not overreacting, she said. Im just tired of being convenient.

James was silent, then snatched his keys off the table.

Fine! You think Ill struggle? He eyed the boxes. You cant even cook properly.

She flinchedthe old sting. Once, those words wouldve made her doubt herself. Now? They rang hollow.

Maybe, she agreed. But someone else disagrees.

His face darkened.

Ah, there it is! Youve got someone lined up, huh? He smirked. Look at youwhod even want you?

The old ache clenched inside her. She almost opened her mouth to say, Youre right, Im sorry, like she had a hundred times before.

Then she realised: she didnt want to.

Me, she said firmly. I want me.

James froze. He hadnt expected that.

Youve lost it, he hissed. What about the kids? Youre just selfish.

She closed her eyes for a second. The kids God, she thought about them every minute.

Theyll learn what self-respect looks like, she replied.

Oh, come off it! He scoffed. Weve got a house, money Youll throw that away over nothing?

Sophie looked at him and finally understood: he truly didnt get it. To him, it really was nothing.

To youyes, she said. To meno.

He turned away, keys tapping his palm.

Whatever. Youll regret this.

On the day she collected her last things, James suddenly asked:

You really think youll find someone better?

She paused at the door, feeling the breeze brush her face.

Better? She smiled. I dont know. But at least someone who sees menot an empty space.

He said nothing.

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

***

Two years passed.

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

She wore perfume again. Put on lipstick. Chose dresses with bare shoulders. And every time she caught her husbands admiring gaze, warmth bloomed in her chestlike something long frozen had thawed