“Emma, get up, make me a coffee, and make breakfast for everyone.”
— For everyone? Who exactly is it for?
— For me, for my brother, for my mother and for my father. Now you’re my wife, have you forgotten? Or do you prefer me to be the one in front of the kitchen?
“And what’s wrong with that?” Until now you did it without any problem.

— Until now it was until now. Has anything changed, other than that we were officially married yesterday?
— That has changed… Now you are a wife. And a wife has certain obligations. So make me coffee and breakfast for my family, honey.
“Emma, the coffee,” Daniel gently shook her shoulder at seven-thirty in the morning, on a Sunday.
Emma came out of her deep sleep with difficulty, opened one eye, looked at the clock on the wall in front of the bed, and frowned.
“It’s too early…” she murmured, trying to turn around, but Daniel began to remove the blanket.
– That’s precisely why I need coffee, to wake me up. Today we have an important day, don’t you remember? We promised my parents a tour of the city. So get up and make breakfast.
Emma forced herself to open her other eye, sat down, and looked at her husband—the man to whom she had been married for barely eighteen hours—with an expression of almost ironic surprise.
— Does “For everyone” mean for whom? You know I don’t have breakfast.
“To everyone in this apartment right now, Emma. For me, my brother and my parents. You are my wife. Or should I stand in front of the kitchen according to you?
Daniel turned around ostentatiously and wrapped himself in the blanket he had just taken from him.
“How curious,” Emma said calmly. Before, you cooked when you wanted to impress. And you brought me coffee to bed without me asking. What has changed from one day to the next?
He smiled, satisfied, almost dreamy.
— Everything. You’re no longer my girlfriend or fiancée. You are my wife. And a wife has a well-defined role. So take care of breakfast.
For a few seconds Emma looked at him silently, then shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the bedroom. Soon after, the clinking of dishes could be heard from the kitchen, and Daniel smiled pleased.
“Make me breakfast.” How long had I waited to be able to say that as a husband. I knew Emma would be difficult to “tame”; I was too used to attention and care.
She had always lived in a world where others worked hard for her: they guessed her wishes, gave her gifts, brought her coffee to bed, treated her like a woman worth striving for.
It had taken him a year to introduce her as his girlfriend and another to make her his wife. And now, just one day after the wedding, he was showing her for the first time how things were from now on. And she relented. Almost without resistance.
This was just the beginning.
After breakfast, Emma stared at the sink full of dirty dishes. None of Daniel’s relatives had thought about rinsing his dish; it was taken for granted that the one who had cooked would do it. At least they thanked them. Something was something.
“Hurry up, we’re all waiting for you,” Daniel said, peeking into the kitchen as she placed the last dish in the colander. We have a very tight schedule.
“Go without me,” Emma replied coldly. I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve seen it all hundreds of times. I want to stay at home.
He closed the door and walked over.
“You continue to behave as if you were free,” he said in a low voice so that his parents would not hear him. We are now a family. And the family does everything together. What do I tell them if IAre you?
— The truth. That your wife is tired after a day when almost a hundred people couldn’t take their eyes off her. That today needs silence. Or after I get married I’m no longer free?
“Where are you, young people?” His mother appeared. The train leaves tonight and we haven’t seen anything yet.
“Come on, Mom,” Daniel said, taking Emma’s arm. My wife is still adjusting to her new duties. It’s not easy, is it, darling? He whispered in her ear. Don’t make me look bad.
“He’ll get used to it,” smiled his mother. If you want to have a reliable man by your side, you have to learn how to be a good wife.
They laughed. The father laughed. The brother laughed. Emma smiled too, and only Daniel knew that the smile was empty.
In the evening, just before boarding the train, his mother said to him,
“You have chosen a complicated woman. Pampered. Aren’t you scared?
“A simple one would bore me,” he laughed. Taming a wild cat, that’s the real interest.
On the way back, he asked,
“What will there be for dinner?”
“Sleep,” Emma replied dryly. Ask for something if you’re hungry.
“Today I forgive you,” he said after a pause. But from tomorrow I hope you will behave like a wife worthy of my choice. Surprise me tomorrow night with something special.
In the car there was a dense and oppressive silence.
“Emma?” — he finally broke it.
“You… Will you forgive me? she said slowly. For not letting me sleep? For serving four adults? For walking fifteen kilometers listening to stupid jokes and unsolicited sermons? And do you really expect me to be in front of the kitchen again tomorrow?
“Of course,” he replied calmly. This is how any good wife who respects her husband acts.

Emma did not answer. He looked out the car window, watching the city lights stretch into blurred lines, and in his silence there was something Daniel mistook for resignation. He didn’t know—he couldn’t know—that in that silence Emma was sorting out memories, decisions, and truths that she had learned long before she met him, when she still believed that love was a fair negotiation and not a well-decorated cage.

When he arrived at the apartment, Daniel went straight to the bedroom without saying another word. He took off his jacket, left his shoes lying around, and lay down on the bed as if the whole world owed him rest. Emma stood in the hallway for a few seconds, listening to her already heavy breathing, and then went into the bathroom. He closed the door carefully. He leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. The woman who stared back at him wasn’t broken or scared. She was tired, yes, but also strangely lucid.

“It’s not the first time a man has tried to tell me who I should be,” he whispered to himself. It will only be the last.

That night he slept little. Not because of Daniel, but because of the clarity that, like a silent lightning, had split his world in two. At dawn, he got up before him. He made coffee. He prepared breakfast. He did so with an almost ceremonious calm. Daniel opened his eyes with a satisfied smile.

“That’s the way I like it,” he said, sitting up. I see that you understand.

Emma placed the tray on the table and sat down opposite him. He did not eat. He didn’t drink.

“I have something to tell you,” he began.

“After breakfast,” he interrupted her. Today I have meetings and I need to leave early.

“No,” she replied, firmly. Now.

Daniel frowned, but something in Emma’s tone silenced him.

“Yesterday,” he continued, “you told me you forgave me. Today I want to return the favor. I’m going to forgive you too.

“Forgive me?” he laughed. Why exactly?

“Because I believed that marrying me gave you the right to become someone I’m not. For thinking that love is obedience. For confusing patience with weakness.

Daniel put the cup down on the table with a thud.

“Don’t start with dramas, Emma. All women adapt. It’s a matter of time.

“Not all of them,” she answered. And not me.

He got up and walked towards the bedroom. Daniel followed her, irritated.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Emma opened the closet and pulled out a suitcase he didn’t remember seeing.

“To work,” he said. Let’s live. To breathe.

“Are you crazy?” He raised his voice. We are a family! You can’t leave like this!

Emma turned slowly.

“That’s the most interesting thing of all, Daniel. We were never a family. We were an experiment… And you ruined it on the first day.

“You’re going to regret it,” he spat. You don’t know how difficult it is to be alone.

Emma smiled. This time, the smile was real.

“I know better than you. And it’s much easier than living with someone who turns you off.

When he closed the door, Daniel stood still. For the first time since he had met her, he felt something akin to fear. He called his mother. He called his brother. No one responded with the urgency he expected. At noon, his mother said to him:

“If he left, you must have done something. Women don’t leave a marriage just like that.

The following weeks were a slow and humiliating decline. Emma not only did not return: she did not call either. Daniel tried to control the story. He said that she was confused, that she would return when “it passed”. But Emma did not return.

On the contrary.

Emma resumed her work, a project that she had paused “out of love”. He moved into a bright little apartment, full of plants. He wrote again. He laughed again. He went back to sleep.

One day, he received a judicial notice. Daniel had requested mediation. She accepted.

They met in a clean, neutral room. Daniel looked thinner. More tense.

“We can fix it,” he said. I’ve thought a lot. Maybe I was too harsh.

Emma looked at him with a calmness that disarmed him.

“You weren’t harsh. You were clear. And I thank you for that. You saved me years of doubt.

“Don’t you feel anything?” he asked, almost pleadingly.

“Yes,” she answered. I feel relief.

They signed the papers. As he left, Daniel tried to take her hand. Emma gently withdrew it.

“I wish you what you deserve,” he said. No more, no less.

Months later, Emma received an email. It belonged to Daniel’s mother. She said that he had left his job, that he was depressed, that he spoke of her as “the one who escaped him”.

Emma closed the message without replying.

That night, he had dinner with friends. They toasted. They laughed. Someone asked him if he believed in second chances.

“Sure,” she said. But only when they don’t force you to get lost to receive them.

Years later, Emma loved again. It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t loud. He was free. The man she chose never asked her for coffee. He never spoke of obligations. I asked him what he wanted. They walked together, not in front or behind.

And sometimes, on Sunday mornings, Emma woke up late. She made coffee just for herself. She drank it slowly, by the window, reminding her of the woman who once believed that love was to serve.

He smiled.

Because I had learned—at the right price—that true marriage doesn’t start with “make me breakfast,” but with “how are you today?” And that no one who really loves you asks you to disappear to make him feel great.

That was the end Daniel never saw coming. And the life that Emma finally allowed herself to live.