**Shadows of the Past: Drama on the Doorstep**
Nathan stepped quietly over the threshold of their flat in an old house on the outskirts of Manchester.
“Finally, I’ve been waiting,” came his wife’s voice from the kitchen, soft but tinged with worry. “You can’t stay this late at work. Are you having dinner?”
Nathan nodded silently, sinking into a chair. Eleanor, his wife, deftly reheated the shepherd’s pie, filling the kitchen with a comforting aroma.
“Love, are you alright? You seem a bit lost,” she asked gently, studying him closely.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. “It’s just… we need to talk.”
“Go on,” she said quietly but firmly, sitting across from him.
“I’ve met someone else,” Nathan blurted out, squeezing his eyes shut as if bracing for a blow. He had no idea how Eleanor would react to his confession.
***
Earlier that evening, as Nathan left, Charlotte clung to him, holding him as if she couldn’t bear to let go. Her voice was low, almost pleading:
“Darling, you’ll do it tonight, won’t you? Like you promised…”
“I don’t know,” Nathan murmured awkwardly, returning her embrace. “But I’ll try.”
“Please, try,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Sooner or later, it’ll have to be done.”
She kissed him, drawing him back into the warmth of the bedroom, where time seemed to stand still.
***
An hour later, Nathan walked down the dark streets of the city, his chest tight with dread. How could he tell Eleanor? How could he look her in the eye—his rock for fifteen years? How could he explain that a grown man had lost his head like some lovestruck boy? And worst of all, how could he justify tearing their family apart?
Images of their twin sons, Oliver and James, flashed before him. Their matching hazel eyes, full of trust, seemed to accuse him already. Nathan shook his head, dispelling the thought.
They’d wanted those boys so badly. When they found out they were having twins, they’d panicked—how would they manage? But Eleanor had been a marvel. She could tell them apart at a glance, kept the house spotless, and raised them perfectly. She breastfed them for nearly a year without complaint, never asking more of Nathan than was fair.
After work, a hot meal, his wife’s smile, and the boys’ laughter always awaited him. Eleanor had a gift—she soothed tantrums, raised them to be respectful yet confident. She taught them to admire their father, ensuring they saw him as their role model. And it worked—Oliver and James adored him, looked up to him.
The boys had turned out brilliant—at thirteen, they were independent, excelled in school, played football, and had loads of mates. Eleanor knew all their friends: names, addresses, hobbies. Their home was always open, the boys bringing friends round constantly. Once, the noise and chaos had grated on Nathan, but Eleanor had stood firm:
“Our sons need to learn how to be good friends. And I need to know who they’re spending time with. It matters, Nathan. Accept that.”
She was right. As always. The boys grew, and their home remained a cosy nest where everyone belonged.
But now… Could Charlotte really fit into their lives? Would the boys accept her? The thought sent a chill down his spine. How could Oliver and James ever love the woman who broke up their family? They worshipped Eleanor. To them, his choice would be betrayal—and they’d be right.
Eleanor didn’t deserve this. Fifteen years as a perfect wife, a loyal friend, a devoted mother. Nathan had been happy with her—until Charlotte came along.
Charlotte—young, vibrant, with a spark in her eyes that reignited something long forgotten. He’d fallen for her like a schoolboy, unable to think of anything else. She consumed him, made him forget his age, his duty, his family. After a week of stolen moments, he’d been lost. He just wanted to hold her, drown in her smile.
Was it his fault? Love was a storm no one could resist. But would Eleanor understand? Would she scream? Cry? Probably not—she was too composed, too wise. But what then? Divorce? Because Charlotte had made it clear—she wanted him to leave.
Nathan stopped outside the building, slumping onto a bench. His legs felt weak, his heart pounding. Going home was unbearable.
***
Meanwhile, Eleanor, after tucking the boys in, sat by the window, watching the dark street. She’d known for a while. Known he’d finally confess tonight. She’d hoped it was just a fling, but no—it had gone too far.
*Poor thing, scared to come home,* she thought. *Struggling to find the words. I get it. You don’t even realise I’ve known all along. I’ve been preparing for this, though I never wanted to start it. Fifteen years, two sons… You’ve always been honest, never given me reason to doubt you. But now—you’ve fallen in love. It happens. But why did you let it go this far? Do you really think she’ll replace us? You’re wrong. A few months in, you’ll ache with loneliness. But if you’ve made your choice—say it. I’m ready.*
***
The door creaked softly. Nathan stepped inside, hoping everyone was asleep.
“Finally, I’ve been waiting,” Eleanor’s voice called from the kitchen. “You can’t stay this late at work. Are you having dinner?”
Nathan nodded, feeling his hope for delay crumble. Eleanor set a plate of shepherd’s pie before him. He ate mechanically, barely tasting it, Charlotte’s voice echoing: *”You’ll do it tonight?”*
After dinner, he drifted to the living room, flicked on the telly, but stared blankly. His hands trembled; he clenched them between his knees. Eleanor finished clearing up, then sat beside him.
“Love, are you alright? You’re not yourself,” she said gently, nudging him to begin.
“Yeah, fine,” he stammered. “Just… we need to talk.”
“Go on.” She looked at him warmly, but her eyes were steady.
“Look… don’t be upset, but… I—”
“Nathan, you’re scaring me,” she feigned concern, frowning slightly. “Just say it.”
“I… I don’t know how to—”
“Say it plainly.”
“I’ve met someone else!” he burst out, bracing for tears or shouts.
Eleanor’s response stunned him.
“And?” she asked calmly.
“What d’you mean *and*?” he faltered.
“What are you going to do?” Her voice was level, almost indifferent.
“I… I’m leaving. I know it’s rotten, but you have to understand—I’m in love. Properly. But I won’t abandon you—I’ll help. The flat’s yours, I’ll just take my things.”
“Properly?” She arched a brow. “So what we had wasn’t proper?”
“Don’t twist my words—you know what I mean,” he snapped.
“Of course I do,” she smiled, baffling him further. “And I’m grateful.”
“*Grateful*?” He nearly choked. “For me betraying you? For leaving?”
“For that too,” she said, her smile serene.
“Are you taking the mick?”
“No, Nathan. I admire your courage. I couldn’t bring myself to say it first. But now… It’s good you’ve told me. Means my news won’t hurt as much.”
“What news?” He stared, disbelieving.
“I’ve… met someone else too,” she said softly but firmly. “Only two months, but… I think I’m in love. He’s… incredible.”
“You—” The words stuck in his throat.
“Yes,” she met his gaze squarely. “And I’m happy. For the first time in ages, I feel alive.”
“You’ve got two kids!” he exploded, though he didn’t know why.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be happy,” she said firmly.
Nathan froze, stunned. After a long silence, he croaked, “Is that it? Can I go?”
“Now? At this hour?”
“What does it matter?”
“Then go. Thanks for talking. My conscience has been killing me…”
Nathan packed in silence, avoiding her eyes. At the door, he turned. Eleanor stood motionless, still wearing that faint smile. She’d always kissed him goodbye before.
“Right. I’m off…”
She nodded.
The door clicked shut. Eleanor flinched but thought, *You’ve got one chance—turn back now.*
Outside, Nathan collapsed onto the bench, head in his hands. He didn’t know what he felt. He’d done what he wanted—so why did he feel emptier than ever? Charlotte, his reason for all this,*Nathan sat there a moment longer, then stood up, turned around, and pressed the buzzer to go back inside.*
