“I’ve missed you so much,” murmured Emily, flinching at the sound of her own voice in the quiet room. Her fingers hovered over an old photo album. In the faded picture, James grinned, lifting little Alfie onto his shoulders. She traced the image with her fingertips. Nine years had passed, but the pain was just as sharp.
Outside, a blizzard raged, hurling snowflakes against the window. Emily stood and walked to the sill, where a candle flickered in a saucer. The anniversary. Nights like these made his absence feel heavier than ever.
“I’m managing, you hear?” she said to the empty air. “Alfie’s nearly as tall as you now. And Teddy… he looks so much like you.”
The fireplace crackled in the corner. Wrapping herself in a worn tartan blanket, she sank into her armchair. The old timber-framed house groaned under the wind.
She didn’t realise she’d dozed off. It might have been minutes or hours before three sharp knocks shattered the silence.
Emily jolted awake. Her heart hammered wildly. Who’d come knocking in a storm like this? The nearest neighbours were half a mile away.
The knocking came again—three deliberate raps, insistent.
She crept down the hall, groping in the dark. Her gaze landed on a kitchen knife. She snatched it up, gripping the handle tight.
“Who’s there?” Her voice trembled.
Silence. Then—three more knocks, louder this time.
She pressed the knife to her thigh, turned the latch with her free hand. A gust of icy wind burst in, swirling snow. And there, on the doorstep—
“Em, it’s me. I’m back.”
James. Her James. The same man who’d vanished nine years ago. Stubble shadowed his face, his eyes tired, but his smile was achingly familiar.
The knife clattered to the floor. Emily swayed, grabbing the doorframe for balance.
“This isn’t…” She gasped. “You’re gone.”
“I’m here,” he said, stepping forward and pulling her into his arms.
Warm. Solid. Smelling of frost and earth. She clutched his jacket, buried her face in his shoulder, and wept. Her legs gave way, and they sank to the floor together.
“How?” was all she managed.
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “But I’ll explain. Let’s just shut the door first. It’s freezing.”
He helped her up. She clung to him, terrified he’d vanish.
“The boys?” he asked, glancing past her.
“Asleep,” she whispered, unable to look away from his face. “They’ve grown.”
“I know,” he said softly, smiling through the sadness.
“How is this possible?” She touched his cheek with trembling fingers. “You were… gone. I was there. I saw.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “We need to talk. There isn’t much time.”
They moved to the sitting room. Emily lit another oil lamp. James perched on the edge of the table, studying the room as if memorising every detail.
“You’ve kept the house just right,” he said warmly.
“What are you talking about?” she pleaded. “Where have you been? Why now?”
He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes.
“I’ll tell you everything. Just sit, love.”
She tossed another log into the fire. Flames leapt, casting flickering orange light and dancing shadows.
She hesitated, as if delaying the moment, then went to the sideboard and pulled out his mug—navy blue, with a chipped rim. Nine years untouched, as if waiting for him.
“Didn’t think you’d keep this,” he said, surprised, accepting the steaming tea.
She stared hungrily, afraid to miss a single detail—the crease between his brows, the childhood scar on his chin. Her fingers brushed his wrist, his shoulder, his stubbled cheek, testing if he was real.
“You are,” she whispered, lips dry. Then, barely audible: “Tell me… where have you been?”
James gazed into the fire a long moment before speaking.
“After I… left, I didn’t go where most people go,” he began. “I got lost. Never reached the end.”
He sipped his tea, then continued.
“At first, it was like a thick, dark fog—almost solid. I wandered there for ages, not knowing if I was alive or dead.”
Emily listened, barely breathing. She gripped his hand so tightly her fingers ached.
“Then I wound up somewhere… they call it the In-Between. It’s like—” He faltered, searching for words. “An endless train station where no one knows the schedule. No bodies, just… feelings.”
James set down the mug, looking straight at her.
“You can’t imagine how many like me are there. The lost ones. Those who can’t move on.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
“All sorts. An old man who never forgave his brother and died still angry. A young woman who gave up her baby—she never stopped crying. A lad who died in a brawl and still doesn’t realise he’s gone.”
He ran a hand through his hair—the familiar gesture made her heart twist.
“They all want something. To fix things. To go back. But none know how.”
“And you?” She searched his face. “What did you want?”
“To see you all again,” he said simply. “All these years, that’s all I’ve thought about.”
“Your laugh at my terrible jokes. Teddy’s hair when he rode on my shoulders. Alfie’s hands the first time he held a hammer—just like me, all careful-like.”
He fell silent. The storm still howled outside, but the world felt shrunken to this room.
“I saw the tree fall on you,” she blurted. “They called me at work. I ran—right through the village, still in my apron.”
Her face contorted with the memory.
“You’ve no idea how I suffered after. Asking why you, why us, when things were already so hard.”
She stood, went to the dresser, pulled out a crumpled slip of paper.
“See this? Pawn ticket. I sold my silver locket to feed the boys. Alfie was ill, and we couldn’t even afford medicine.”
James rose, wrapped his arms around her from behind. She trembled at his warmth.
“Em, I’m sorry. For everything.”
“For what?” She turned. “For dying? For leaving us?”
“For you being left to be strong for us both. For pretending every day you were fine when you were breaking inside.”
Emily cried then—silently, tears streaming.
“I left a pie on the sill every anniversary,” she whispered. “Like Gran taught me. Sat up all night waiting… for what, I don’t know.”
They stood in silence. Finally, she looked up.
“Will you stay now? With us?”
He didn’t answer, just held her tighter.
“James?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know the rules. I just… ended up here.”
Exhaustion washed over her. Her legs buckled, and James caught her, carrying her to the armchair. She nestled into his shoulder, breathing in his scent.
“Don’t go until I’m asleep,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, stroking her hair.
Half-drowsing, she heard his whisper:
“I didn’t know how to be without you either…”
Sunlight through the curtains woke her. She was still in the armchair, the tartan blanket over her. James sat opposite, watching her with the same tenderness as ever.
“Morning,” he said softly. “You only slept a couple hours.”
She straightened, shaking off sleep. Morning. So it hadn’t been a dream. He was really here.
“The boys will be up soon,” she said hurriedly, throat tight. “They won’t believe it. You’ve no idea how they’ve missed you. Alfie especially.”
“He stopped saying ‘Dad’ for nearly a year after you—”
James squeezed her hand.
“Em,” he said quietly, “there’s something I need to say.”
His tone made her freeze.
“I can’t stay.”
“What?” She jerked her hand back. “Why? You’re here! I can feel you, see you—”
She grabbed his shoulders as if to physically hold him.
“It was… a one-time thing,” he said slowly. “One night. I don’t even know how it works.”
With every sunbeam through the curtains, he seemed to fade. Dawn was pulling him back where none return.
“No, no, no!” Her voice rose, then cut off as she glanced toward the boys’ rooms. “Not now. Not when I’ve just got you back!”
James held her tight.
“Listen. I came so you’d know—I’m nearby. Always have been.”
“When you cried into your pillow so they
