Twenty-seven years of living a life I never wanted—one that was forced on me.
A wave of relief washes over me.
Tomorrow, I’ll speak to the lawyer to get the will probate underway—the sooner I can sell this house, the better.
It was our escape when Malcolm decided we were leaving the church, but the abuse followed us.
And then I wait.
Noah’s shift is due to end at midnight—he’s working nights at a petrol station. I’m too wired to go to sleep before he gets home, and as the other adult in this house, I want him to know before the others do.
I turn on the television for some background noise. I’m not sure what’s on, and I don’t care. Tonight changes everything.
We can live our lives the way we need to, and not as dictated by my husband.
I should have left—I told myself that a million times over the years, but I could never see a way out, not once the children started arriving. Malcolm would have tied me up in knots for years. Maybe I should have been stronger—I’ve spent enough time berating myself for not making the break.
But even now, when I’m brave because he’s gone, I know I’d do it all over again to make us safe—no matter the cost to me.
Finally, the front door opens and closes, and my son walks in.
“Mum? You’re still up. What’s going on?” He leans over and presses a kiss to my temple. I love my son. While you shouldn’t have favourites, he and I have always been closer than the others. There’s a reason for that, but my lips are sealed for the moment.
“He died tonight. The funeral director has come and gone.”
His eyes widen. “That’s why it’s so quiet.”
I nod, blinking rapidly. My son, my beautiful son, wraps me in his arms and holds me while I sob.
He knows I’m not sad. For the first time in years, I’m free.
We’re all free.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “I need sleep, but I wanted to see you before I went to bed. The others don’t know. It happened after they were in bed.”
“We’ll tell them together tomorrow.”
And as of tonight, I’m free from the abusive husband I’ve been married to for over twenty years. He wasn’t violent, but for our entire marriage, he’s worn down my self-esteem and abused me emotionally, verbally, and financially.
The day the doctor told us he was terminal, I knew it was just a matter of time.
Maybe our marriage was for all the wrong reasons, but I have four pieces of my heart under this roof.
And now we get to start fresh.
“What’s our next step?”
I draw in a deep breath. “Get the house ready to go on the market. We’re not staying here.”
He nods. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“We’ll move out of Christchurch when it’s sold. Somewhere warmer.”
He smiles, but I’m sure he’s thinking of his job. Noah’s twenty-six now, and he should be in his own home, or flatting with friends.
But I know he’s stayed to support me—Malcolm was only too happy to have the extra income coming into the house.
