A Man of Principles
Harry lost his temper out of nowhere. Emily didnt even realise what was happening at first.
You sat at the same table as him? Harrys voice was icy and sharp. With the man whos cheating on his wifewith your friend?
Harry, its none of my businessand its not yours either! Emily tried to sound calm, though inside she was already seething. I was there to have a chat with Claire; it was a group of us. Am I supposed to moralise about everyone I meet at a café?
Its a matter of principles for me! I cannot understand how my partner wants to associate with people like that.
Your partner isnt your property. And my friends arent up for your approval.
Harry stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. As if shed betrayed him.
They argued until their voices went hoarse. He spoke about honour, about having standards, about how he couldnt be with someone willing to condone immorality. He insisted: she shouldnt socialise with people whose behaviour went against his morals. Emily tried to reason with himshe was a grown woman, able to choose who she shared a table with. Her twenty-year friendship with Claire wasnt dependent on who Claire decided to sleep with.
None of it worked.
The next day, Harry was silent. So was Emily. The only thing that broke the silence was a message: Lets take a break. Emily let out a dry little laugh. A break. At forty-three. She replied curtly, Were not children. Sod your break. If its over, its over.
And thensilence.
***
Three days later, she caught herself remembering how it all began, as if watching a film backwardssearching for the moment when things slipped.
Theyd met at a friends dinner party. Harry had caught her attention straight awaytall, fit, eyes the deep grey-blue of an English Channel winter. Divorced, two grown-up kids, a director at a construction firm. An adult, successful, no adolescent games.
Hed looked at her in that way men do when they cant quite believe theyve met a woman who lights a fire in them. Interested, delighted, slightly incredulousWhere have you been all my life? She held his gaze with quiet reservebut something inside flickered.
You look like a woman who knows what happiness is, hed said, inviting her to dance.
I suppose I do, she smiled. Doesnt mean it falls into your lap.
It will, he replied with certainty. I know it.
Emily laughed. What makes you so sure?
Six months passed like a dream. Morning phone calls, sweet little messages, flowers for no reason, drives into the countryside. He introduced her to his friends, always said the right things, looked at her with admiration.
Ive earned you, Harry would repeat.
She believed himnot blindly; her experience taught her balance. But she believed, because he seemed grown-up. Men like that dont play games, she thought.
Sitting at her kitchen table with a mug of tea, Emily sifted through the details. Oddly, there was no pain. Just a calm, almost clinical curiositywhat was it all about? A tantrum? Testing boundaries? Or were those his real principles?
She remembered texting Claire before that fateful evening: Lets see how Harry copes with me out with the girls tonight. Shed expected some protest from Harry. The only question was what kind.
And there it was.
He dumped me because Im friends with the wrong sort, she thought. Imaginemy forty-year-old friends dating a married man. Harry must have his head in the clouds. Or maybe he just panicked, thought I was fine with infidelity. But do these abstract principles outweigh everything between us? The sins of people hes never met matter more than actual feelings?
Emily remembered stories Harry told about his father and grandfatherarmy men, hard-line, living by honour and duty instead of acceptance or empathy. Harry always said, A man must stand firm, stick to his guns, never waver.
Well, where are you now, Harry? Proud of your principles but all alone? she thought with a wry smile. Is it worth itupholding your values but losing everything else?
Suddenly, she saw the pattern: Harry was testing her. Prove youll fall in line for me. If shed started apologising and justifying herself, thatd have become the norm. Harry makes mistakesEmily smooths things over. Then, each time, hed push further. In a years time, shed be asking for permission to visit her own friends.
And the most frightening thing: if Emily ever slipped herself, hed never forgive her.
No, she said aloud to her empty kitchen. Thank you, but no.
***
A week later, Emily met Claire. They sat in the same café. Claire gazed guiltily into her coffee.
Its my fault, bringing my lover along, Claire said quietly.
Its not your fault, Emily cut in. Dont give it another thought. The problem isnt you. Or him, either. The problem is that Harry decided he could fix me.
So, what now? Will he come back?
He already texted.
And?
I didnt reply.
Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise. So, its final for you?
Emily shrugged. See, if I give in now, Ill only set a patternhe acts up, I patch things up. Everything would rest on me. Ive already played the rescuer. Now, Id rather just be a woman.
And if he showed up with an apology? Offered some understanding?
Im not sure, Emily answered honestly. Maybe. But he didnt. He just sent, Lets meet and talk. No sorry, no I was wrong. Just talk. We know how that goes; all he wants is one more chance to tell me why Im in the wrong. No thanks.
These blokes, Claire sighed. Wouldnt it be nice if they surprised us for once?
They will, Emily laughed. Just not this one.
***
Harry messaged again two weeks later.
Hi. I miss you. Maybe we could meet and talk?
Emily read the message three times. Then she set her phone down and went to the kitchen to make tea. After a moment, she picked up the phone and typed:
Hi. I dont want to meet. What happenedthis isnt about me. I wont apologise for who I choose to sit with. Im not going to prove my morality to anyone. If that bothers you, thats your problem. Good luck.
She pressed send. And breathed out.
His reply arrived an hour later. Long, rambling, brimming with blame and excuses. Youre unwilling to understand, I tried for you, Youre selfish. Emily smiled. Textbook, she thought.
She didnt reply. Not the next day, or the next week. Harry continued to writefirst hurt, then puzzled, then almost pleading. Emily read the messages and said nothing.
Because there was nothing left to say. Everything that mattered had already been spoken.
A month later it struck hershe could barely remember what he looked like. Only the fading hint of something bright and warmbut brief, like a firework; dazzling, gone, then all was quiet.
***
Three months passed.
Emily walked along the Thames Embankment. Evening, sunset, a soft breeze. Walking beside her was someone newa man shed just met. An engineer, also divorced, also with grown kids. He was quiet, straightforward. He didnt test her, demand anything, or set conditions. He was just beside her. For now.
Are you cold? he asked, noticing her shiver.
A bit.
He slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Without a word.
Thank you.
Youre welcome.
They kept walking. In a silence that felt restful, not stifling.
Emily thought: perhaps this is it. Or perhaps it isnt. She had no urge to analyse. She simply lived for today, delighted in the walk, the sunset, and the fact that there was someone nearby who needed no proof, no explanations.
Her phone pingeda message from Claire. Emily glanced at it and smiled. Then put the phone away and looked out over the river again. Apparently, Harry was now seeing a woman much younger, one who gazed at him as if he hung the moon and followed his every word.
Emily had heard through mutual friends and, oddly, felt not the least bit smugjust a soft sadness. Not for herself, but for him. Because he still didnt understand: love isnt about control. Its about freedom.
But thats no longer her story.
