Give Me a Reason
Friday, 7th February
Have a lovely day, Tom murmured, brushing a quick kiss against my cheek before heading for the door.
I nodded automatically. My cheek felt neither warm nor coldjust untouched, as though the moment barely happened. The door closed softly behind him, leaving the house heavy with silence.
I stood for a few seconds longer in the hallway, listening to my own thoughts. When did it happen, exactly? When did something inside me quietly snap and switch off? I remember two years ago, sobbing in the bathroom because Tom had forgotten our anniversary. A year ago, shaking with frustration because he hadnt picked up Emily from nurseryagain. Six months ago I still tried: explaining, begging, asking. Now… nothing. Like an empty field, flat and bare after a fire.
I moved to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of tea and sat at the table. Twenty-nine. Seven years married. And now, here I was, alone in our house, tea growing cold, finally admitting Id fallen out of love with my husband so quietly, so drearily, I hadnt even noticed the moment it happened.
Tom carried on, following a script he barely noticed. Hed say hed collect Emilydidnt. Promise to fix the tapthree months, still dripping. Swear wed finally visit the zoo that weekendthen on Saturday meet his mates for a drink, and on Sunday laze about in front of the football.
Emily stopped asking when Daddy would play with her. At five, shed learned: Mum meant certain, Dad just drifted in and out, half-watching telly in the evenings.
No more arguments. No crying into the pillow at night. No well-laid plans to set things right. I just cut Tom out of the equation, bit by bit.
The car needed servicing? I sorted it. The lock on the balcony door jammed? I called the locksmith. Emily needed a snowflake outfit for the nativity? I sewed it together, night after night, while Tom snored through in the next room.
What passed for our marriage was really just two grown adults living separate lives beneath the same roof.
One night, Tom reached for me in bed. I edged away, headache. Then, tiredness. Then, made-up ailments. With every polite refusal, the wall between us grew taller.
If only hed meet someone else, I thought, coldly. Anything to give me a real reasona reason everyone would understand. Something I wouldnt have to explain to my mum, or Toms mum.
How do you tell your mother youre leaving your husband just because he isnt anything? He doesnt drink, doesnt hit, brings his pay home. Doesnt help around the house? Show me a man who does. Doesnt play with the kid? Men just arent good with children.
I set up a new bank account and started quietly moving a little of my salary every month. I signed up at the gymnot for Tom, but for myself. For that new life, faint and distant, but getting clearer beyond the horizon of inevitable divorce.
In the evenings, once Emily was asleep, I put my headphones on and listened to podcasts. Everyday English, business emails, the works. My company dealt with international clients; being fluent opened doors to new roles.
Professional development courses took up two evenings a week. Tom grumbled about looking after Emily, although look after in his book meant putting Peppa Pig on and staring at his phone.
Weekends were mine and Emilys: parks, playgrounds, cafes for milkshakes, cartoons at the cinema. She grew used to thisto us. Dad hung around, like a comfy old chair in the corner.
She wont notice, I told myself. When we split, hardly anything will change for her anyway.
It was easy to believe, so I clung to it.
Then something shifted.
Im still not sure what it was. One night, Tom offered to put Emily to bed. Thenhe picked her up from school. Cooked dinner, basic cheesy pasta, but he actually did it. Without me saying a word.
I watched him, suspicious. Guilt? A passing phase? Covering up for something? But the days rolled by, and he didnt slide back to how it was. He started getting up early to take Emily to school. Fixed the leaky tap at last. Signed Emily up for swimmingdrove her himself on Saturdays.
Daddy, Daddy, look, I can dive now! shed shout, running around the house, showing off her strokes.
Tom would scoop her up, hurling her towards the ceiling; Emilys giggle filled the whole living room.
Id stand in the kitchen doorway, watching, hardly recognising my own husband.
I can look after her Sunday, Tom said one night. Arent you seeing your friends?
I nodded, hiding my surprise. I didnt have plansI just wanted a coffee and a book in peace. How did he know about friends? Was he really listening when I talked on the phone?
Weeks turned into months. He didnt backslide. Didnt drift back into old routines.
Ive booked us a table at that Italian place, he said one evening. Friday night. Mum will mind Emily.
I looked up from my laptop.
Why?
No reason. I want to take you out.
I agreed. Out of curiosity, I told myself. To see what he was up to.
It was cosydim lights, live piano. Tom ordered my favourite wine and, to my surprise, hed remembered which it was.
Youve changed, I said bluntly.
He turned his glass in his hands.
I was blind. Spectacularly, idiotically blind.
Hardly news, I replied.
I know. He half-smiled. Thought I was working for the family. Figured you just wanted money, a bigger house, a better car Truth is, I was just running away. From responsibility, from real life, from all of it.
I stayed silent, letting him talk.
I noticedwhen you changed. When you stopped caring. That was scarier than any shouting. When you cried or argued, at least we were something. Then you just stopped. Like I didnt exist.
He put the glass down.
I nearly lost you. You and Emily. Thats when I realised how wrong I had it.
I stared at him, this man saying things Id waited for, year after year. Was it too late? Or not quite?
I was going to leave, I said quietly. I was waiting for you to give me a reason.
Tom paled.
God, Alice
I started saving. House-hunting.
I didnt realise it was that bad
You should have, I said sharply. Its your family. You should have seen it.
The heaviness between us was almost a solid thing. The waiter stayed clear.
I want to work at this, Tom said, finally. On us. If youll let me.
One chance.
Ones more than I deserve.
We sat there till closing, finally talking. Not just swapping complaints or polite words, but talkingabout Emily, money, chores, what we both wanted.
Repair was slow. I didnt jump into his arms the next day. I watched. Waited, wary. But Tom kept at it.
He took over weekend cooking. Got onto the nursery WhatsApp group. Learned to plait Emilys hairwonky, but all his own effort.
Mum, look, Daddy made a dragon! Emily came tearing in, cradling a jumble of boxes and pasted card.
I looked at that dragonawkward, lopsided, one wing bigger than the otherand smiled.
Half a year passed.
It was December when all three of us went down to my parents place in the countryside. Old house, woodsmoke and baking, the orchard deep in frost, steps creaking with snow.
I sat by the window, hands around a mug, watching Tom and Emily rolling a snowman outside. Emily was in chargeThe nose goes there! Eyes higher! The scarfs wrong!bossing him about while Tom gamely did everything, twirling Emily in the air until her shrieks rattled the garden.
Mum! Mum, come out! Emily waved frantically.
I pulled on my coat and stepped outside. The snow sparkled, the cold nipped my cheeks, when suddenly a snowball smacked my arm.
It was Dad! Emily immediately ratted him out.
Traitor, Tom smirked.
I scooped a handful of snow and tossed it at him. Missed. He laughed, I laughedand in seconds, all three of us were tumbling about in the drifts, the snowman forgotten.
Later, while Emily napped on the sofa, Tom gently carried her to bed. I watched him tuck her in, smooth her tangled hair.
I sat by the fire, mug in hand, as snow drifted soft and steady outside.
Tom dropped down beside me.
What are you thinking? he asked.
How lucky I am that I didnt go through with it, I murmured.
He didnt ask what I meant. He understood.
Marriageany relationshipdemands daily effort. Not heroics, but those small, ordinary things: listen, help, notice, support. I know therell be more tough days ahead. Misunderstandings, silly rows.
But right now, my husband and daughter are here with me. Real. Present. Loved.
Emily soon woke and climbed onto the sofa between us. Tom pulled us both close, and I kneweven in our roughest momentssome things are worth fighting for.
