28 October
I watched David pack a suitcase and walk out of the front door without even looking back. He simply said hed fallen in love again and needed one more chance to feel something real.
I stood in the doorway, a mug of tea warming my hands, as the man Id shared thirty years, breakfasts, bills and the quiet between our sentences, disappeared down the hallway.
I didnt shout. I didnt cry. I didnt even ask who this new woman was it no longer mattered. A single glance at his face told me the decision had been made long ago, and that I was now just the last rung on a ladder he was ready to leave the one who hands over the keys and the accounts.
The first few days felt like a dream. I roamed the flat in silence, turned off the radio, let the phone ring unanswered. My children called, sensing something was wrong; I told them everything was fine. I didnt want pity, I didnt want questions. I only wanted to vanish, even if just for a moment.
Then anger crept in. I hadnt been a bad wife I cooked, I washed, I listened. I sacrificed my own wishes for us. When he decided to chase his own happiness, he didnt even have the courage to meet my eyes.
Weeks passed. I learned to sleep alone, to shop without checking what he liked, to take long walks sometimes with an umbrella, sometimes without, sometimes lost in thought, sometimes with an empty mind. Each day I breathed a little easier.
Just when I thought the chapter was closed, the doorbell rang.
A greyhaired, weary man stood on the threshold, a duffel bag in one hand and an unfamiliar look in his eyes.
May I come in? he asked softly. Id like to talk.
I stared at him, unsure who this silent stranger was the man who vanished without a word, now returned as if time had paused. I let him in without a reply. We sat in the sitting room, the very spot where we once shared Sunday coffee and idle chatter. He kept the bag on his lap, uncertain whether to set it down. I sat opposite him, hands clasped, ready to listen though I was no longer the woman I once was.
It didnt work out, he said after a pause. I thought I knew what I wanted, that I could start again. But
He stopped, waiting for me to fill the silence, but I remained quiet. When someone leaves you wordlessly, you owe them no guidance.
She was younger. Different. She fascinated me. For a brief spell I felt young again. Then life crept back in the bills, the chores, the routine. I realised I wasnt looking for a woman; I was looking for myself, just not where I ought to have been.
I pressed my palms together on my knees.
Why are you back? Because she let you down? Because you couldnt bear it? Because its easier here?
He met my gaze, a blend of shame and fatigue.
Because I miss us. Because now I see what we had, and who you were to me.
I rose and walked to the window. October sunlight streamed in, a neighbour walked their dog, children returned from school the world outside was ordinary, but inside me nothing felt ordinary any longer.
While you were gone, I said quietly, I learned to live on my own. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Im no longer the woman you abandoned.
I turned back to him, truly looking for the first time.
Now I decide whether you still belong in my life.
He made no plea, no desperate kneeling. He simply nodded, as if he understood that the cards had been shuffled and he no longer held the dealers hand. He set his bag on the armchair and asked if he could stay the night not out of pity or convenience, but for a breath of space.
I agreed, though I wasnt sure why. Perhaps I wanted to show him my world without him, or perhaps a part of me was still curious whether his return meant anything at all.
The next days he was quiet, careful. He didnt touch me, didnt try to slip back into old rituals. He made his own breakfast, helped with dinner, offered to run errands. I no longer waited for his moves; I had my own schedule, my own tasks, my own silence and that was mine.
One evening we sat together and he asked if we could begin anew, differently, with respect and no pretence. He said he didnt expect immediate forgiveness and understood if it was truly over.
I didnt answer straight away. I stared at his pallid face, the deeper lines than a year ago, eyes that no longer held confidence but plain humanity. Then a thought surprised me: what if the choice now lay with me?
I placed my hand on the table, not on his but beside it.
I need time, I said. But this time youll be the one waiting.
The following morning he went for a walk and later texted: Thank you for letting me back in. I know it doesnt mean Im forgiven.
I smiled faintly. Perhaps this was the new beginning. For the first time, I was the one with a voice.
