Miscalculated.

She hoped he’d change. Once they’re married, once they become parents. That he’ll stop knocking down pints at the pub with his mates, spending money on gadgets, play video games all day long, party hard. She hoped he’d become quiet, calm, a homebody. New man.

He hoped she’d never change. That marriage and kids won’t turn her into a miserable mother hen. That they’d still go out every not and again, to the pub, the cinema, to see friends. That she’ll still appreciate the little gifts he buys her, not necessities, but tiny luxuries, just for her. Same woman.

And now they look at each other with growing aversion, at each other’s throats pretty much all the time, slamming doors, breaking plates. Or they don’t talk at all. The silence is not a good sign.

They’ve both miscalculated.