When Daniel introduced a younger woman into our lives, justifying it as a desire for novelty, my world was irrevocably altered. Despite being married for over twenty years, he welcomed her into our home as if I were nothing.
I refrained from crying. I refrained from screaming. I did not create a disturbance. I remained mute. I maintained the household, attended to his parents, and conducted my daily activities as though nothing had altered.
However, each evening, I adorned myself meticulously. I applied my makeup, donned an exquisite clothing, spritzed my favourite perfume, and exited without explanation. I did not disclose my destination to anyone. I never permitted him to witness my sorrow. I departed without hesitation. For demonstration purposes exclusively.
Initially, I am certain he believed I was merely attempting to preserve my dignity. However, over time, I sensed his curiosity intensifying. One evening, I eavesdropped on the younger woman—Lily—murmuring to him: I believe she is involved with someone. Her visage is excessively luminous, and her attire is very extravagant. Monitor her closely.
I anticipated that her remarks would be painful. She was correct in one regard: I was radiant. However, not for the reasons she thought.
One evening, as I donned a red dress and departed, Daniel chose to pursue me. He believed he would find me with another man. He was utterly mistaken.
Upon my cab’s arrival at the arts centre, I exited with assurance. I sensed his gaze upon me, despite his belief that he was concealed. My heart raced, yet not due to terror. Derived from expectation.
The lights lighted the stage within. The room resonated with applause when the lecturer proclaimed: This is Maria, formerly a prominent actress at the municipal theatre. For almost twenty years, she withdrew to nurture her family. This evening, she makes her return, her talent as formidable as always.
I advanced. My speech conveyed emotion, and my motions were vibrant. I sensed the audience’s anticipation, their gaze fixed upon me. For the first time in years, I was no longer a wife, a mother, or a caretaker. I was myself.
And I was aware that Daniel was present, observing, comprehending the reality: I was not departing for an illicit liaison. I was recovering the aspiration I had previously relinquished for him and our offspring. As he succumbed to treachery, I emerged more resilient. For demonstration purposes exclusively.
That evening, I arrived home later than he did. Lily reclined on the couch and enquired sarcastically:
“What is your inquiry? Did you apprehend her? Wasn’t it a reunion with an old flame?”
He did not respond. I understood the reason. His thoughts were dominated by a singular image: myself, illuminated on stage, resplendent beneath the spotlight.
In the subsequent weeks, I continued to perform. I did not seek him out in the crowd; however, I subsequently discovered that he attended—concealed in the back row, observing me silently. I did not require his endorsement. His presence was unnecessary.
Following a performance, I exited and discovered him awaiting by the gate.
“Maria, may we converse?” he enquired softly.
I locked eyes with him, composed and unwavering. Neither fury nor yearning—only tranquilly.
“I devoted my youth to nurturing a family and supporting a husband,” I conveyed to him. “I have now resolved to live for my own sake. If you desire a subservient wife who remains at home, cooks, and endures, I no longer fit that description.”
I departed with my head held high and my shoulders squared. I cannot pinpoint the precise moment Daniel lost my trust; but, I am convinced of one fact: he no longer merits my companionship.