“Where on earth are you off to?” she called from the kitchen.
“John, where are you going?” Beatrice peeked out, wiping her hands on her apron, eyeing her husband with mild surprise.
John, a forty-five-year-old executive at a well-known construction firm, had made up his mind. While his wife bustled over breakfast, hed packed his suitcase. Now, standing in the doorway of their spacious Chelsea flat, he felt the weight of his decision.
Beatrice had always been the heart of the household. She believed a proper fry-upeggs, bacon, and toastwas the foundation of health and success. When the children were young, shed rise before dawn. Three kids demanded her full attention, and Johns salary had allowed her to focus solely on home life.
He stayed silent. Watching Beatrice, his wife of twenty-five years, he convinced himself: this was the right choice.
Lately, shed put on weight, her eyes dull compared to the spark that once charmed him. She no longer excited him. For that, there was Emilyyoung, sharp, raven-haired, met at a corporate event in Brighton. Daring, just like him. Thats why he stood there now, suitcase in hand.
Enough! Why stay with a woman he didnt love? The kids were independent: James and Oliver, graduates, worked in London; Charlotte, in her fourth year of med school, still relied on his support. As for his wife Why keep funding her? Emily was rightit was time to split the flat.
“Going somewhere?” Beatrice asked, perfectly calm. “You mightve said. Ive made you sandwiches. Not good to leave on an empty stomach.”
“Always with the food!” John snapped, irritated he couldnt just say it. “Think there arent cafés out there? Youre stuck in that kitchen like the world doesnt exist!”
“Something the matter?” Her voice stayed sweet.
Shed suspected the affair for months. Knew this day would come. But she also knew her husband.
“Im leaving!” he blurted. “Im with someone else. A modern woman, not some housewife!”
“Congratulations,” she replied, as if commenting on the weather.
“Dont I deserve it?”
“You deserve more. Hardworking, clever, handsome”
“The flat will be split,” he said, softer now.
“Agreed. Well do everything by the book.”
John frowned. Hed expected screaming, not this eerie calm.
“Get a job,” he warned. “I wont support you.”
“Dont need to. Im remarrying.”
“Remarrying?” He laughed. “Whod want you?”
“Plenty. Women like me are in demand. Experienced, homely, good cooks And with a flat of my own after the settlement.”
He swallowed hard. The thought of Beatrice with another man gnawed at him.
“Got a meeting,” he muttered, setting the suitcase down. “Dont book anything today. Its disrespectful.”
At the office, doubt crept in. Hed planned to return if things went south with Emily, but now
By evening, Emily called, impatient:
“Where are you? Ive picked a flat in Mayfair! We need to furnish the bedroom and book that holiday to Barbados. Remember your promise?”
“Whats for dinner?” he cut in.
“Nothing. Im dieting. We could order sushi”
John hung up. He thought of the shepherds pie Beatrice wouldve made, the quiet comfort of home. And the idea of another man calling her his wife.
No. That wouldnt do.
