After such humiliation, am I supposed to sit there and smile? No chance—you can celebrate without me. Emily slammed the door on her own anniversary.
Emily woke before dawn. Through closed eyelids, the realisation hit: today, she turned forty. A number that once felt distant now stared back at her every morning—in faint lines, tired eyes, and the endless race between home and everyone else’s demands.
Beside her, snoring softly, lay her husband, James. He didn’t stir as she slipped out from under the duvet. These past years, he’d slept deeper… and shown less interest in her. Emily glanced at the clock: 5:30 AM. Ahead of her was a day she had no energy or illusions left for. A day meant to be special, but now just another test.
The kitchen was quiet. Last night, she’d cooked late—marinating meat, chopping vegetables, kneading dough. All to host a warm, heartfelt gathering at home. Except, with each passing year, those closest to her felt further away.
“Mum, can I have twenty quid?” asked Oliver, her sixteen-year-old son, appearing at the doorway, already dressed.
“Where are you off to?” Emily handed him the note.
“Cycling with mates. I’ll be back by evening. For the guests.”
“No help, then?”
“You know you’ll do it better anyway,” he muttered before slipping out. Emily didn’t argue. What was the point?
By nine, the kitchen was a battleground—meat in the oven, cake rising, pans bubbling. James wandered in, yawning, in a t-shirt and joggers, poured himself coffee.
“Happy birthday, Em,” he mumbled, pecking her cheek before burying himself in his phone. “Took the day off. Finally a breather.”
“Help out, then?”
“Course. Let me just finish this.”
Three hours later, he was still reading. Then he switched to the telly—football absorbed him completely. Emily forced a smile, kept kneading, frying, decorating, burying the thought that today should’ve been perfect.
By three, her sister Hannah arrived, hugging her at the door with a bouquet of roses.
“Where’s your dress? Makeup? Party mood?”
“All on the stove,” Emily sighed.
Spotting James sprawled on the sofa, Hannah marched into the living room. Moments later, a sullen James appeared in the kitchen.
“What d’you need help with?”
“Set the table.”
He grumbled, got distracted, but under Hannah’s watch, he managed something. By five, everything was nearly ready. Emily changed into a simple dress, dabbed on light makeup—no energy for more.
Guests arrived by six—parents, colleagues, family friends. Oliver tossed her a card, Sophie brought a cake. James suddenly perked up, cracking loud jokes, pouring wine, draping an arm around Emily for show. And she smiled—like a doll, with an aching back and an empty soul.
“Em, go easy on the salads,” James whispered. “You’ve been… lately.”
He didn’t finish, but his look said it all. Then, loud enough for everyone:
“Bit dry, love. Last time was better.”
She swallowed. Stayed quiet. Boiled—slowly, inside.
When he raised his glass and announced,
“Forty’s a big one. Em’s done alright, kept herself up… though she could’ve tried harder—” Emily stood.
“Thanks. I’ve got nothing left to do here.”
She walked out. The room froze. Hannah rose, ready to follow, but Emily was already in the bedroom.
At the mirror stood a woman—exhausted, hollow-eyed. But beneath the surface, something else burned. Resolve. Emily stripped off the dull dress, pulled out a new blue one. Did her makeup, fixed her hair, clipped on earrings James had given her—back when he still cared.
She dialled her friend.
“Claire? Free tonight? I’m heading to The Ivy. Celebrating my way.”
When she stepped back into the living room—radiant, poised, sure—the room gasped.
“Now that’s more like it!” James beamed. “Sit down, let’s keep this going.”
Emily smiled.
“No, James. The party goes on without me. I’m leaving. From you. From all of this.”
He froze. Laughed nervously.
“You’re having me on, yeah? Just a joke!”
“A joke? Sixteen years, and it’s always ‘just banter.’ No more. Today, I’m celebrating MY day. First time ever.”
And she left. The door shut behind her.
The air outside was crisp. A cab waited. Claire waved from the window.
Emily didn’t look back. Ahead was an evening—just hers. And maybe, a new life.