Andrew was stuck at the office again, pulling a late shift. Ellie was at the kitchen table, staring at the cold dinner. The smell of roast chicken and herbs lingered, mixing with the faint scent of the candle shed lit two hours ago the wax now dripping in uneven beads, like tiny tears. The TV muttered something about the weather, but she wasnt listening. Instead she was tuning into the creak of the lift in the hallway and the faint steps on the landing was that him?
The flats door stayed shut.
She could have called, said, Where are you? or Im getting worried. But why? He always answered the same way: a curt Soon, or an irritated Dont bother me. Then hed pop in, stare at his phone, and a heavy silence would settle between them, as if they were two people, each standing alone.
Theyd been living together for five years.
Yesterday Kate, Ellies mate, had posted a picture of her babys christening. Happy faces, a pretty dress, Kates husband Tom holding the little one. Earlier today a wedding snap of their mutual friends popped up in the feed.
When are you two? theyd asked.
Were not in a rush, Andrew had waved off.
But Ellie was fed up with that not in a rush line.
Do you actually want to marry me? she blurted.
Andrew had just slipped in, tossed his jacket on the couch, and reached for a tin of ale in the fridge. The question caught him off guard his hand froze halfway.
Of course I do, he said, his voice low, as if the words were stuck somewhere in his throat. Its just not the right time to bring it up.
Ellie lifted her fork as if shed never seen one before. So when would be right? When you buy a flat? When you get a promotion? Or when we both hit forty?
He turned away, eyes scanning the beer label for some escape.
Dont get worked up, alright? Im tired, he muttered.
Me too, she whispered.
He was already heading for the shower, leaving behind a silence as thick as fog, the kind theyd both been lost in for years.
Andrew had grown up watching families fall apart.
He remembered his dad before the drinking started the funny, strong bloke who used to lift him, a fiveyearold, up to the ceiling. And the dad after hollow eyes, permanent smell of stale whisky, throwing plates at his mother.
Better to have no dad at all than one like that, hed once told a friend.
Thats when he promised himself: if he ever started a family, it would be nothing like his own. Only when he was sure he wouldnt repeat that mistake.
But certainty never came.
Ellie was the polar opposite of his mother calm, patient, never prone to tantrums. Still
Every time she cautiously nudged the wedding talk, Andrew caught himself thinking, What if Im wrong? What if theres a monster in me?
He saw his hands ball into fists after a hard day just like his fathers. He felt irritation bubbling when Ellie asked for anything. Though he never raised a hand or even his voice, a deepseated fear lingered: What if this is only the beginning?
One night, after a particularly rough argument, Ellie asked straight up, Are you scared youll end up like your dad?
I wont be like him, he snapped.
So whats the problem?
Its that Im not sure I can be good enough to replace him.
She fell silent, then took his hand. No one expects perfection. I just want you to try.
But for Andrew, trying meant risking another life falling apart. That fear outweighed love.
I need to get on my feet first, he said, stepping out of the shower, towel around his shoulders, eyes heavy from a twelvehour shift. I want everything to be perfect for us.
Ellie sat at the table, waiting. In her eyes flickered a mix of understanding and weary disappointment this was the hundredth time they’d had this chat.
What does perfect look like to you? she asked, her tone gentle, not accusatory.
Andrew froze. Hed tossed the word around so often without ever pinning it down. In his head swirled images: a spacious flat in central London (even though they already rented a cosy twobed near the tube), a brandnew foreign car (while his reliable old Toyota had served him well for five years), a directors salary (though he already earned double the city average).
He didnt answer. The perfect he imagined felt like a glossy billboard shiny on the outside, empty inside. It was as if he were waiting for some magical moment when the stars aligned, the bank balance doubled, and he suddenly became the ideal husband, father, provider.
Ellie watched his face shift, recognizing his habit of trapping himself in unrealistic expectations.
You know, she finally said, choosing her words carefully, the perfect moment will never arrive. We can be happy right now, just as we are.
Andrew glanced around their flat the bookshelves they’d built together, the framed photos of trips, Milo the cat curled up in the armchair. For the first time he wondered if perfect wasnt about conditions at all, but about the two of them. Yet the fear of stepping into the unknown shut his mouth again.
He reached for the remote, switched the TV off, and put his phone in his hand, signalling the conversation was over.
Andrew loved Ellie.
He loved the way she giggled at his terrible jokes over breakfast. He loved how she would mutter in her sleep when he tugged the blanket over her. He even loved her habit of leaving halffilled tea cups around the flat each one made him smile.
But he also loved the silence.
The quiet that settled when Ellie went to her parents for the weekend. He loved his own little quirks tossing socks on the floor, never turning the lights off, staying up playing video games until three in the morning, spontaneously heading out for a weekend fishing trip with the lads without a lengthy explanation.
Why do we need a marriage certificate? hed ask, pulling her close while she washed the dishes. Were already together. Isnt that enough?
Ellie wanted something more.
Not a diamond ring or a lavish banquet, but that almost intangible, very real feeling of choice. She wanted him to wake up each morning and decide, consciously, to be with her not out of habit, not because thats how its always been, but because he truly wanted to.
A marriage licence isnt about obligations, shed say, looking straight into his eyes. Its about picking this life out of all the possible ones. Choosing us.
Andrew looked away. He knew hed already chosen her long ago, but the word forever still felt too final. Signing the register seemed like burying the carefree lad who could bolt at any moment.
What if we get divorced? the question burst out suddenly, as if itd been simmering inside him for ages. Andrew stood by the window, his back to Ellie, watching the city lights, but his mind drifted to images of legal fees, split assets, empty rooms.
What? Ellie froze.
Well its expensive. Mortgage, alimony he counted out possibilities like a business plan. You know how my colleagues split his flat and still pays for the kid
Ellie rose slowly, a bitter chuckle escaping her more a sigh than a laugh, like the last bubble of air from a sinking ship.
Youve already plotted the divorce but cant face the wedding, she said, her voice calm, not angry, just weary. The funny thing is youre scarier of the paperwork than losing each other right now. Divorce is numbers, documents, concrete losses. Losing love thats abstract for you, isnt it?
Andrew turned, confusion written across his face. Hed expected a fight, tears, maybe silent resentment, but not this clearcut honesty.
I just he started, but the words stuck. What could he say? That he was trying to protect them both? That he was covering all bases? It would sound like an excuse, and they both knew that.
Ellie stepped closer, stopping a arms length away. Her expression was steady, but there was a new resolve in her eyes.
If youre already thinking about how well split up, she whispered, then were already splitting. Just havent signed the papers yet.
She turned and left the room, leaving Andrew alone with his calculations, his fears, and the sudden realisation that his futureplanning might already be destroying the present.
The ending
They broke up on an ordinary weekday, nothing dramatic no shouting, no shattered plates. Ellie came home an hour early from work, started quietly packing. Andrew walked in to find her folding sweaters hed always loved on her. Every movement was deliberate, showing this wasnt a spurofthemoment decision.
Are you leaving? he asked, frozen in the doorway.
Yes, she replied, eyes fixed on the suitcase. Ive got a flat in the city centre.
The floor seemed to drop out from under him. Hed imagined this moment a hundred times, but now he realised he wasnt ready. Not at all.
We could he began, but she cut him off.
No, Andrew. We cant. I gave us a month after that talk, and you didnt even try.
The suitcase snapped shut with a sound louder than the front door.
Ellie wasnt leaving because she stopped loving him. Love isnt a switch that flips off instantly. She left because his fear of commitment outweighed his love. He wasnt afraid of marriage per se he was terrified of making a conscious choice, of saying yes not just to her, but to the life that would follow.
I never expected lifelong promises, she said at the door. I only asked you to choose us right now. You never did.
Andrew was left alone in a flat that suddenly felt too big. Freedom echoed loudly now, a freedom that seemed to mock him. His phone displayed Ellies number, dialed five times only to be deleted each time.
He was free. Completely free. He could go away with the lads for the weekend, stay late at work, toss socks wherever, keep his nightowl habits. Yet that very first night he found himself on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, remembering Ellies sleepy mutters when he tugged the blanket.
He never figured out what was scarier losing her or losing himself. With her gone, a sudden dread hit: maybe the real him was the guy who laughed at her jokes over breakfast, while the free Andrew he clung to was just a boy hiding behind excuses.
In the morning, he spotted her favourite tea mug left on the kitchen counter, halffilled. He washed it automatically, tucked it away in the cupboard, and only then realised thered be no one left to scatter tea cups around the flat anymore.
