The man came home and, without even taking off his coat, blurted out: “We need to talk.”
Actually, lets rephrase thathe barely made it through the door, shoes still on, coat flapping, and announced:
“Emma! We need to have a serious chat…”
Then, without pausing for breath, he widened his eyes dramatically and declared:
“Ive fallen in love!”
*Well, here we go,* thought Emma. *Midlife crisis, right on schedule.* But she kept that to herself and just stared at him intentlysomething she hadnt done in, oh, five or six (or was it eight?) years.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. For Emma, it was their entire relationship history spinning like a carousel. Theyd met in the most unremarkable way possibleonline. Emma had trimmed three years off her age, and her future husband had fudged his height by a couple of inches. Somehow, against all odds, theyd ticked enough boxes to… find each other. She couldnt remember who messaged first, but she did recall his opening line wasnt awfula dash of self-deprecating humour, which she appreciated.
By thirty-three, Emma had a realistic grasp of the marriage market. She wasnt at the back of the queue, but she wasnt front-row either. So, for their first date, shed worn her best knickers, stuffed a book and homemade biscuits into her handbag, and slapped on some rose-tinted optimism.
Surprisingly, it went well (who knew looking vaguely put-together would work?). Their romance moved quicklysix months of dates, nagging parents desperate for grandchildren, and then, just like that, he proposed. They married in a small ceremony, mostly to avoid anyone changing their mind.
Life, in Emmas opinion, was good. Their marriage had all the warmth of a temperate climateno scorching passions, but no blizzards either. Just steady, comfortable companionship.
Her husband, bless him, was a straightforward sort. A few weeks post-wedding, hed ditched the whole *sensitive, romantic, golden-retriever-energy* act and settled into his true self: a practical, slightly scruffy bloke in well-worn joggers. Emma, being the more complex creature, took longer to shed her *mysterious, effortlessly elegant domestic goddess* personauntil pregnancy sped things up. Within a year, shed gleefully embraced her dressing-gown era.
The fact that neither of them minded the others unmasking convinced Emma theyd made the right choice. Life rolled ontwo kids, hectic schedules, the occasional stormbut no shipwrecks. Just steady sailing.
Twelve years in, hed never so much as flirted with another woman, though Emma wouldnt have minded much if he had. She imagined him tryingwidening his eyes in that ridiculous way he did when attempting complimentsand nearly laughed aloud.
Now, though, his eyeballs were practically levitating. He fumbled in his shirt and pulled out… a tiny grey mouse with pink ears and beady black eyes.
Emma stopped listening. She gazed at him, at the mouse, at their matching noses, and felt absurdly happy. Of *course* hed fallen in love with a creature that looked just like her.
Man Returned Home and, Without Even Taking Off His Coat, Blurted Out: ‘We Need to Have a Serious Talk’
