Back to Her
“Going back to her again, are you?”
Carolines voice was calm but laced with exhaustion, already knowing the answer. David nodded, eyes fixed on the worn carpet. He shrugged on his jacket, patting his pocketskeys, phone, walletmaking sure everything was there before leaving.
She waited. For any word. Just a sorry or an Ill be back soon. But David merely opened the door and walked out. The lock clicked quietly, almost politelyas if apologising for its owner.
Caroline moved to the window. The street below glowed dimly from the sodium lamps, and she easily spotted the familiar silhouette. David walked swiftly, moving with purpose, like a man who knew exactly where he belonged. With her. With Emily. And their seven-year-old Sophie.
Caroline pressed her forehead against the cold glass.
She had known. Right from the beginning, she understood what she had signed up for. When they’d first met, David was still married. Officially. Marriage certificate, shared flat, a child between them. But he was no longer living with Emilyhe rented a back room elsewhere, coming over only for his daughter.
She cheated on me, David had said back then. I couldn’t forgive her. Filed for divorce.
And Caroline had believed him. Good Lord, how easily shed believed it. Because she wanted to believe. Because she fell in lovethe kind of headlong, reckless love you only feel at seventeen. Café dates, endless phone calls, that first rain-soaked kiss outside her front door. David looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
The divorce. Their wedding. The new flat, plans made side by side, whispered future dreams.
Then it had started.
Phone calls to David: You must bring medicine, Sophies unwell and its urgent. David, our taps leaking, what do I do? David, Sophies crying, she wants to see youcome now.
Every time, David dropped everything and went.
Caroline tried to understand. After all, a childs needs came first. Sophie was innocentnone of this was her fault. He ought to be present, to help, to care.
Sometimes David listened to her, even attempted to set boundaries with his ex-wife.
But Emily just changed her tactics.
Dont come this weekend. Sophie doesn’t want to see you.
Dont callyou’re upsetting her.
She asked why her daddy left us. I didnt know what to say.
And each time, David crumbled. Whenever he tried to refuse yet another urgent request, Emily struck where it hurt most. Within a week, Sophie repeated her mums words: You don’t care about us. You picked another lady. I don’t want to see you.
A seven-year-old could never think of all that herself.
David came home shattered from those encounters, weighed down by guilt, his eyes dim. And once more, hed dash off at the slightest callall so his daughter wouldnt turn away from him, wouldnt stare back with unfamiliar, frigid eyes.
Caroline understood. Truly, she did.
But she was tired.
His figure slipped round the corner. Caroline peeled herself off the window, rubbing her foreheadleaving a pinkish mark from the cold pane.
The empty flat pressed in on her.
It was midnight before the key turned quietly in the lock.
She sat at the kitchen table, cold tea before her, untouched. She stared at the thin film darkening the surface. Three hours. Three hours shed waited, straining to catch every sound from the landing.
David entered softly, slipped off his jacket, hung it up. He moved tentatively, like someone hoping not to be noticed.
What was it this time? Caroline was surprised by her own calm. Having rehearsed the question for hours, by midnight, all emotion felt scorched out of her.
David paused.
The boiler broke. Needed fixing.
Slowly, Caroline lifted her gaze. He stood in the kitchen doorway, unsure whether to step inside. Staring somewhere past her, into the shadow outside.
You dont know how to fix boilers.
I called a plumber.
And you had to wait?couldnt you have called from here? Over the phone?
David scowled, folding his arms. Silence thickened: slow and ugly.
Maybe you still love her.
That made him look at hersharply, with anger and hurt.
What rubbish! Everything I do is for Sophie. It isnt about Emily at all!
He came into the kitchen; Caroline instinctively pushed her chair back.
You knew, when you got involved with me, that I’d have to go over there. You knew I had a child. So what now? Are you going to throw a fit every time I go see my daughter?
Her throat seized. She wanted to retort smartly, with dignity, but instead her eyes stung and the first tear spilled down her cheek.
I thought she faltered, swallowing hard, I thought youd at least pretend to love me. Pretend if nothing else.
Oh Caroline, dont start
Im exhausted! her voice split into a shout, startling her too. Tired of beingnot just second place! But third! After your ex, after her whims, after broken boilers at midnight!
David slammed his palm onto the doorframe.
What do you want from me, then? To abandon my daughter? To stop seeing her?
I just want you to pick me for once! Caroline surged to her feet, the tea cup teetered, splashing on the table. Just oncesay no. Not to meto her! To Emily!
Im worn out by your tantrums!
He spun, snatched his jacket from the hook.
Where are you going?
The only reply was the bang of the door.
Caroline stood in the middle of the kitchen, tea dripping onto the linoleum, her ears ringing. She grabbed her phone, dialled his number. One ring, two, threeThe person youre calling is unavailable.
Again. And again.
Silence.
She collapsed onto the chair, clutching the phone to her chest. Where had he gone? Back to her? Again? Or was he just wandering the streets, angry and bitter?
She had no idea. That made it worse.
The night dragged endlessly.
Caroline sat on the bed, phone in handwatching the screen fade and glow. Dial his number, hear the rings, hang up. Type a message: Where are you? Then another: Please answer. And again: Im scared. Sendthen stare as each message flashed up with a single, grey tick. Not delivered. Or delivered, but unread. What did it matter?
By four a.m. Caroline stopped crying. The tears had run dry, leaving only a stark, echoing emptiness. She rose, flicked on the bedroom light, opened the wardrobe.
Enough.
Shed had enough.
She found her suitcase in the loftdusty, tag torn from some long-forgotten holiday. She flung it on the bed, stuffing it with jumpers, jeans, underwear. No sorting, no foldingjust forcing in whatever she could reach. If he didnt care, she wouldnt, either. Let him come home to an empty flat. Let him search for her, call and text things shed never read.
Let him know how it felt.
By six in the morning, Caroline stood in the hallway. Two cases, handbag over her shoulder, jacket fastened crookedlyone side hanging lower than the other. She stared at the bunch of keys gripped in her hand. She needed to take hers off, leave it on the shelf.
Her fingers fumbled.
She pulled at the ring, trying to prise it free with her nail, but the key wouldnt budge; her hands shook, and suddenly her eyes burned againhow could there be any tears left?
Oh, for heavens sake!
The keys clattered to the floor, ringing against the tiles. Caroline stared at them a moment and then simply slumped onto her suitcase, hugging herself as she broke down. Loudly, awkwardly, pulling ragged breathslike a child whod smashed the vase and thought the world had ended.
She didnt hear the door open.
Caroline
David knelt down in front of her, folding onto the chilly stone floor. He smelled of cigarettes and the night air.
Caroline, Im sorry. So sorry.
She looked up, her face streaked and swollen, mascara in black trails. David cautiously took her hands in his.
I went to my mums. All night. She tore into me honestly, got my head straight.
Caroline said nothing. She looked at him, unable to decide whether to trust him or not.
Ill take Emily to court. Demand a proper schedule with Sophie. Officially, through solicitorsas it should be. She wont be able to manipulate me, or turn Sophie against me, not anymore.
He gripped Carolines hands tightly.
I choose you, Caroline. Do you hear me? You. You are my family.
Something inside her stirreda tiny shoot of hope, hopeless and persistent, the same shed spent the night trying to uproot.
Really?
Really.
Caroline closed her eyes. She would trust David. One last time. And whatever happened, would happenShe felt his warmth seeping into her chilled fingers, the steady pressure grounding her. They sat there for a whileno words, just shared breaths, the early morning hush pressing around them. Carolines heart stuttered between old wounds and flickers of longing.
Eventually, she let out a small, shaky laugh, almost surprised by the sound. Still think youre rubbish at fixing boilers, she whispered.
David smileda real one, weary but sincere. I promise, no more midnight rescues. Unless its you.
She looked at the hollow corridor, the little shelf where her key should rest. Slowly, she got up, picked up the jangling ring, and, after a breath, slipped her key back onto it. Not quite forgiveness, but not quite surrender eithera sort of truce, fragile and real.
Outside, the sodium lamps faded as dawn crept across wet pavements. The city was waking up, uncertain and hopeful, and somehow Caroline found herself ready to step into the daywith David, broken but trying, by her side.
She opened the front door. Come on, she said, voice steadier now. Lets go home.
And for the first time, David followedhis hand catching hers firmly, as if he finally knew where he belonged.
