**Diary Entry**
He said he was ashamed to look at me, and then froze at what he saw.
“Make sure dinner is decent tonight,” snapped Edward, adjusting his tie in the mirror. “The boss is coming. I want to make a good impression.”
Olivia nodded silently, spreading butter on her toast. The bread stuck in her throat when he added:
“And for heavens sake, try to look presentable. Honestly, its embarrassing to be seen with you.”
The door slammed, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne and the bitterness of unspoken words. Olivia caught her reflection in the kettleforty-three years old, faint wrinkles around her eyes, greying roots she never had time to dye. When had it happened? When had she transformed from the cheerful girl whod won young engineer Eddies heart into the tired housewife he was ashamed to introduce to his boss?
The flat met her with its usual silence. Eighteen-year-old Daniel had already left for uni, and fourteen-year-old Emma was staying over at a friends. Just her, the kitchen, and the endless to-do list: laundry, cleaning, groceries, cooking that “decent dinner.”
At the shop, Olivia mechanically loaded meat, vegetables, and the expensive wine Edward liked to serve guests into her basket. Ahead in the queue, a young woman swayed gently with a fussy baby, whispering soothing words. Olivia remembered holding her own children like thathow Edward used to embrace her from behind and murmur, “Weve got the best family in the world.”
What changed? When had he stopped holding her? When was the last time he said he loved her?
Back home, unpacking the shopping, she found old photos scattered on the floorones that had slipped from the drawer. There they were at graduation, laughing, his hand in hers. Their weddingher in white, his eyes never leaving her. Daniels birthEdward kissing her forehead, radiant. Emmas first stepsboth of them on the floor, cheering her on.
Where had that happiness gone? Lost between mortgage payments and sleepless nights with sick children? Between his career ambitions and her endless chores?
Olivia started cookingroast in the oven, salad, starters. Muscle memory from years of repetition. Then the phone rang.
“Liv? Its me, Sarah.”
Her friends voice was a lifeline in the monotony.
“Sarah! How are you?”
“Dont ask,” Sarah laughed bitterly. “Finalising the divorce.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing dramatic. Just realised I was tired of being invisible in my own life. Fancy meeting up? Coffee, proper catch-up?”
“I cantEdwards bringing his boss over tonight.”
“Again? Liv, when was the last time you did something without him? Something just for you?”
Olivia paused. She honestly couldnt remember.
“Its different, Sarah. Ive got a family. Responsibilities.”
“And I didnt? But heres what I realisedwhile youre living someone elses life, your own passes you by.”
The words clung to her as she finished cooking. By six, the table was set, shed changed into her best dress, fixed her hair. She looked in the mirrorperfectly presentable. Why did Edward say it was embarrassing to look at her?
The guests arrived on timeEdwards boss, Mr. Thompson, with his wife and another couple from work. Olivia smiled, served, made polite conversation. All was fine until the talk turned to careers.
“And what does your wife do?” Mrs. Thompson asked.
“Shes a homemaker,” Edward said, an odd defensiveness in his tone.
“How lovely!” the woman exclaimed. “Did you work before?”
“I was an accountant,” Olivia began, but Edward cut in.
“That was years ago. Once the kids came, we decided it was better for her to stay home.”
*We decided?* Olivia remembered the realitymaternity leave with Daniel, then his childhood illnesses, then Edwards ailing mother moving in. Then Emma. By the time the kids were older, Edward had said, *”Why bother working? I earn enough. Just focus on the house.”*
And she had. Laundry, cleaning, cooking, shopping. Days blurring into one. Meanwhile, Edward climbed the corporate ladder, got promotions, wined and dined important people.
“A friend of mine was a homemaker,” Mrs. Thompson continued. “Now she runs a florists. Says shes never been happier.”
“Not everyones cut out for business,” Edward smirked. “Livs happy at home.”
*Happy?* Something twisted inside her. When had he ever asked?
The evening dragged. After the guests left, Edward was pleased. “Made quite the impression. Mr. Thompson said Ive got a wonderful wife.”
“You mean wonderful housekeeper?”
“Whats that supposed to mean? You stay homeso tend to the home. I dont get the attitude.”
“Eddie, remember what we dreamed of when we married?”
“What are you on about?”
“Travel. Me learning Italian. You said youd support anything I wanted to do.”
“Liv, were adults. Weve got kids, responsibilities. No time for nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” Her voice shook. “My life is nonsense?”
“Your life is our family. Isnt that enough?”
She wanted to scream that it wasntthat she was suffocating, that shed forgotten what it felt like to be alive. But she stayed silent. Like always.
The next morning, Edward left early without a word. Olivia sat with her coffee, flipping through the old photos. One showed her holding a certificate from an accounting courseback when shed wanted to grow, dreamed of starting her own firm.
The doorbell rang. A deliveryman held out roses. “For Olivia Carter?”
The card read: *”Thank you for last night. Youre a marvelous hostess and engaging company. Best, Mr. Thompson.”*
She put the flowers in a vase. When had Edward last bought her roses? She couldnt recall.
Later, Emma called. “Mum, can I stay at Hannahs? Were going to the theatre tomorrow.”
“What about schoolwork?”
“Mum, its Sunday!”
Olivia had lost track of the days. They all bled together.
That evening, Edward came home late and shut himself in his study. She knocked. “Eating dinner?”
“Later,” he grunted, eyes fixed on the screen.
She ate alone, cleared up, went to bed. He came in as she was drifting off, turning his back without a word.
Sunday morning, she woke to an empty flat. Edward had gone to his parents without inviting her. *”Youd be bored,”* hed said.
Wasnt she bored here? She got up, did yoga for the first time in years, made breakfast, and realisedshe was free. A whole day to herself.
She pulled on a vibrant dress Edward called “too youthful,” did her makeup, and stepped outsideno shopping list, no chores.
The park was full of lifefamilies, couples, elderly pairs strolling arm in-arm. Olivia watched them from a bench. A young mother pushed her giggling child on the swings. An old man bought his wife an ice cream, their eyes crinkling with shared laughter.
When had she and Edward last laughed together?
“Olivia? Olivia Carter!”
She turned. Andrew, a school friend she hadnt seen in fifteen years, stood there grinning.
“Andy! Is that you?”
“The one and only! Howve you been?”
They talked for hours. Hed divorced recently, moved back to town for work as a travel photographer.
“Remember,” he laughed, “you swore youd see the world? Dreamed of Paris?”
She had. Shed collected postcards of far-off places.
“Childish dreams,” she shrugged.
“Childish? Im forty-five and only made it to Paris last year. Dreams dont expire, Liv.”
They talked till dusk. Andrew showed her photos on his phonevibrant landscapes, candid joy. Olivia felt alive again, her laughter genuine, her curiosity rekindled.
“Listen,” he said as they parted, “Ive got an exhibition opening tomorrow at the gallery. Come if youd like.”
At home, Edward was already asleep. Olivia lay awake, replaying the daythe first time in years shed felt *herself*.
***
[Continued in next entryran out of space.]
