**June 12th, 2023**
The dim streets of Manchester followed me home after another endless shift. My mind wandered, but an uneasy knot tightened in my chest. The windows of our fourth-floor flat were dark. *Where is she this time?* The thought flickered before I could stop it. Stepping inside, the silence hit me like a slap. Before I could even kick off my shoes, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Thompson from next door stood there, her face pale. The words that left her lips shattered everything: *”Emily’s been taken to hospital, Daniel.”* I froze, refusing to believe it. My life—built on mistakes and missed chances—collapsed in an instant, leaving only regret.
The realisation had struck me like lightning earlier, halfway down the street. I’d stopped dead, the pavement swaying beneath me. *How could I have been so blind?* The bitter laugh that escaped me tasted like ash. It had all been so obvious, yet I’d chosen not to see. At home, Emily would be waiting—the woman I’d once loved but long since taken for granted. I imagined her standing there, her usual icy *”You’re back?”* before turning away without so much as a glance. *”Dinner?”* she’d ask, her voice stripped of any warmth.
She used to cook with such care—baking pies, saving recipes, filling jars with preserves. But somewhere along the way, that stopped. For the kids when they visited, she still made an effort. For me? Nothing. Her meals became tasteless, as if made out of obligation. When I couldn’t stomach it, I’d fry up potatoes or make a sandwich, never complaining. She’d eat in silence, never thanking me. Her indifference cut deeper than anger, but I bit my tongue to keep the peace.
Once, she’d been different. Her warmth, her kindness—the way she’d curl into me, as if sharing the very heat of her heart. But those moments lived only in memory now. Her affection had grown mechanical, like a duty she resented. When had it started? Was it the nights I stayed out drinking while she waited up? Or that time I missed picking her up from the hospital after our youngest was born—too busy celebrating with mates? *”It’s just a lads’ night,”* I’d told myself. But the hurt in her eyes had stayed with me, buried but never gone.
Emily changed. She withdrew into silence, flinching at my remarks, shutting herself away like she couldn’t bear to be near me. *”It’s just honesty!”* I’d snap. But her quiet was worse than shouting. When the kids came home, she lit up—bustling, laughing, alive. With me? A wall. *”Who’s she fooling?”* I’d think. Life slipped by, our marriage reduced to empty habit.
I’d stopped going out years ago. Worked as an engineer, brought in good money, never looked at another woman. But Emily didn’t care. She earned just as much, fiercely independent. So why stay? For the kids? They were grown. I didn’t understand her. Once, I’d tried. Then I gave up. *”If this is how she wants to live, fine.”* But deep down, I ached for something real—for a wife who smiled when I walked in, who’d miss me when I left. For a love that had long since faded.
And now, the thought: she never loved me. Maybe not truly. I used to wonder why a woman like her—sharp, educated—had chosen me. Maybe I was just convenient—tall, decent-looking, good for pretty kids. *”That’s all it was,”* I thought bitterly.
The flat was still dark when I stepped inside. *Where is she?* The dread clawed higher. Then the knock. Mrs. Thompson, eyes down, murmured:
*”Daniel… the paramedics took Emily an hour ago.”*
I ran, sobbing through the streets. For the first time in my life, I prayed. *Please, don’t take her. How do I live without her? Save her—I’ll fix everything, I swear! I’ll go to church, I’ll do anything. Just let her live.*
But I never saw Emily alive again. The hospital said her heart had stopped in the ambulance. The world ended that night. For days, I moved through fog. The kids, friends, family—their voices drowned under the hammering in my skull: *I never said sorry.*
Now, I live alone. The kids begged me to move in. I refused. Instead, I visit the church down the road. In the hush of candlelight and incense, I almost feel her beside me. The old stone walls seem to cradle my grief. I stare at the stained glass and whisper, *”I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”* But there’s no answer. Only silence—my only companion now.
