You know, sometimes you stand over the hob and just stare off into space, you know what I mean? Thats exactly what Emma was doing just watching a saucepan of water coming to the boil and thinking about, well everything.
Outside, it was a bog-standard Tuesday evening in Manchester. And as usual, he was there Johnny glued to his phone, looking knackered and perennially grumpy. Hed said to her, what, four weeks ago? Ill get myself together. Find a proper job. Ill stop snapping at you. Give me a bit of time. Im really just going through a rough patch.
So Emma waited. She kept hoping.
The water boiled. She threw in some pasta, gave it a quick stir, then turned the gas off. She wasnt hungry herself, but she had to cook. For him. After all, hed be hungry.
Dinners ready, she called out, more to the empty hallway than to him.
No answer.
She wiped her hands on the tea towel and wandered into the lounge. He was still on his phone, scrolling through God-knows-what.
I said, are you going to eat? She tried again.
Yeah, in a sec, he muttered, not even looking up.
She just nodded, plonked herself on the sofa, and waited.
Ten minutes. Fifteen.
She went back to the kitchen, laid the table as quietly as she could, and sat again. The scrolling continued.
Itll go cold, she said, almost in a whisper.
Oh for Gods sake, he grunted, tossing his phone onto the sofa with this look as if she was the most annoying person alive, You always pick the worst time to nag. Im coming, alright?
He shuffled to the kitchen, slumped down, and shovelled food in without saying a word or even glancing her way.
Emma sat opposite, wanting to ask him how his day had gone. Wanted to tell him about her own disaster at work. But she couldnt. Something inside just froze.
She knew how it would play out, anyway.
Hed either grunt or completely ignore her. Or look at her in that way that made her feel ridiculous for even opening her mouth.
Cheers, he mumbled, dumping his plate in the sink. Going to lie down, heads killing me.
So, Emma was left alone. Again.
***
How long has this been going on? asked her mate, Sophie, frowning over her coffee, when they met at their regular Saturday café.
Third year now.
Three years of headaches and Ill change soon?
Emma nodded.
Sophie leaned back, judging her with this look that was sharp but not unkind.
Right, Im going to say it straight. Dont take it the wrong way.
Go on.
Are you alright in the head?
Emma nearly choked on her latte.
What do you mean?
I mean seriously. You sit there and wait around for this so-called rough patch to end. But it wont! Why? Because it suits him this way.
You dont get it. Hes genuinely struggling. Work, stress…
Everyone struggles, Sophie said, cutting her off. But do you see me screaming at my husband when I have a meltdown at work? I come home and say, Give us a hug, its been a day. But yours yells, shuts down, makes empty promises and then does it again. And you swallow it. Why?
I just I keep hoping hell change. I want to believe it.
Hoping? Sophie scoffed, Babe, people dont change unless its for themselves. He wont. Hes comfortable. You do everything. Cook, wait, make excuses for him. Why would he ever change? He knows he doesnt need to try dinners there, the house is warm, all sorted.
Emma wanted to argue back, to say that Sophie hadnt seen what Johnny was like at the start how lovely he could be when he made the effort.
But she couldnt find the words.
Her mind flashed back to last night. How he looked when she asked about dinner. The annoyance when she said the food was getting cold. How he left for bed without even acknowledging her.
And she suddenly realised she couldnt remember the last time he actually looked her in the eyes.
Like, really saw her. Not through her, not with that tired, disconnected stare, but properly saw her.
***
Emma paid for their coffees and said goodbye to Sophie, heading home at a snails pace with her heart feeling heavier than her shopping.
When she got in, the flat was dark. He was asleep.
She slipped off her boots and sat right down at the kitchen table, staring into the street for ages.
***
Monday morning rocked up like it always did.
He stormed out for work, slamming the door. No goodbye, not even a peck on the cheek.
She wrapped herself up, got on the bus to the dentists. The pain had been going for a week, but there was always something his food to sort, his moaning to listen to, his mess to clear.
In the waiting room was a girl, couldnt have been more than twenty-three, scrolling on her phone, chatting on FaceTime like nobody else was there.
Ben, honestly, you promised youd come meet me after the dentist. Im scared to go alone. Please, I know works busy but you promised. She went quiet for a moment. No, I cant reschedule. Ive waited a month for this slot. Ben, please. Its not much to ask, just be here. Youre my boyfriend.
Silence again.
Fine. I get it.
She ended the call, slipped her phone away, and started crying, quietly, just staring at the laminate floor.
Emma sat next to her, and suddenly it was like looking in a mirror. She remembered herself, three years ago begging, hoping, trusting that if she asked nicely, if she explained, hed see, hed change. Hed go back to the man she fell for.
Excuse me, Emma said softly. Whats your name?
Holly, the girl sniffed.
Holly, I dont mean to butt in, but can I say something?
The girl looked up, eyes shining.
If someone treats you like that, its never because they dont get it or because theyve got a lot on. They get it just fine. Its simply easier for them that way. They know youll always be there, waiting, forgiving. Promises mean nothing. Dont listen to words; watch what they do.
The girl listened, not blinking.
But what if he actually loves me? she whispered.
If he cares, he wouldnt hurt you. Seeing you cry would make him uncomfortable. Hed find a way to make you smile. Not a way to keep you quiet so he can carry on as he pleases.
They called her in, and she wiped her eyes and whispered Thank you, before heading through the door.
Emma was left sitting there, this strange warmth in her chest, as if shed finally had the pep talk shed needed for years.
***
That night, Emma came home to see Johnny hunched over his phone.
Im starving, he grunted, doesnt even say hello. Whereve you been?
Emma went straight to the fridge. Took out the bits for dinner. Put a frying pan on the hob. Poured in some oil. Chopped an onion.
Then, just stopped.
She froze, knife in hand.
Im not cooking, she said out loud.
Silence.
She switched the hob off, put everything away, and wiped her hands. Walked straight into the living room.
Im not cooking, she repeated, voice steady. You hear me?
He looked up, genuinely shocked.
What?
I mean it. Youre a grown man. If you want dinner, make it yourself. Or order a takeaway. Or pop to Tesco. Im not your housekeeper.
He put the phone down, stood up.
Whats your problem? Are you mental? Im knackered, alright?
And Im not? She looked directly at him, for the first time in ages. I work too. I get tired. I want to be looked after as well.
Oh, here we go again, he rolled his eyes. Another one of your rants. Sorry Im not perfect, but Ive told you things are tough.
Tough? Three years of tough? she said quietly. You know what Ive realised?
What?
Thats its easier for you this way. You know Ill always do it. You count on me not leaving. And you take advantage. Not because youre a monster. But because well, you can.
He had nothing to say.
Emma turned, walked into the bedroom, shut the door behind her. Sat on the bed and cried, but these tears felt different.
Not the stifled sobs she cried into her pillow, or the ones that choked her when he broke another promise.
These were tears… of relief.
***
Emma woke up early the next day.
Johnny was still asleep.
She packed her things, scribbled a quick note: Goodbye. Dont call me.
Left it on the kitchen table.
Before she shut the front door, she glanced back.
The morning light poured in, quiet and calm.
She closed the door, took a deep breath, and for the first time in years, she felt genuinely free.
***
Six months later, Emma met up with Sophie in that same old café.
So, hows your ex? Sophie teased.
No idea, Emma smiled, shrugging. Hes not called.
And you?
Me? Brilliant. Seeing a counsellor. Learning to listen to myself. And the best part?
What?
For ages, I was terrified hed fall apart without me. But he hasnt. Turns out, he just found somebody else. Just like that. Like I was never even there
Emma grinned. Really, genuinely.
***
One Saturday evening, the doorbell rang.
Emma checked the peephole and felt her heart skip, then settle.
Johnny. Looked a mess, unshaven, holding a sorry bunch of daffodils from a garage somewhere.
Let me in, he said, voice dull. We need to talk.
Emma stood there, forehead pressed to the cold wood.
Ive changed. Honest. That other girl was a mistake. Im lost without you. Please
She took a deep breath and answered calmly:
Youre only here because she doesnt want you anymore, and you cant stand being alone.
Youre mental! Im here, arent I? Open up!
He yelled, banged, swore. Then went silent. Then left.
Emma sat down on the little bench in the hall.
Inside, it was peaceful.
She didnt open the door.
For the first time, she chose herself.
And the ending? This time, it belonged to her.
