The plates with untouched dinner sat on the table, chilled and heavy under the low kitchen light. Emily stared at them, lost and hollow, but her eyes could not leave the silent clock on the wall: 10:47pm.
James had promised to be back by nine, as always.
Her phone was silent.
Emily didnt feel angry anymore.
Whatever warmth had survived inside her had burned away, leaving only a bitter emptiness and an exhaustion colder than the English rain.
It was close to midnight when she heard the key scrape in the lock.
Emily didnt even turn her head. Wrapped in a woollen blanket, she sat on the worn sofa, staring blankly at a chipped patch in the wall.
Evening, love. Sorry, I got caught up at work, James muttered, trying for forced cheer in his tired voice. She recognised that brittle edgeJames always sounded that way when he wasnt telling the truth.
He drew close, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Emily pulled away without thinking, just enough for him to feel it.
Is something wrong? he asked, unwinding his scarf and dropping it on the armchair.
Do you remember what today is? Emilys voice came out faded, drained.
He paused, trying to calculate.
Wednesday. Why?
Its my mums birthday. We were supposed to pop over with that cake. You promised, James.
His face changed in an instant. The smile gave way to something pained, desperate.
Oh God, Em, I completely forgot. Im sorry, honestly, works just been insane. Ill ring her tomorrow, swear it.
He wandered into the kitchen, and Emily could hear him fussing with the fridge and knocking about the dishes. Thats what he always didhid in the clatter of plates and mugs whenever things became uncomfortable.
But tonight, she wasnt going to shield him. She stood in the doorway, facing him.
James, who exactly kept you at work until nearly eleven tonight?
He turned. The carton of milk in his hand trembled.
The team. Were launching this new project, and the deadlineslook, you know how it is.
Yes, I know, she replied. And I also know that this afternoon, you said, Helen, I get it, but I have to fix this.
Helen. His ex-wife. The ghost that had haunted their relationship for all three years. A silent, icy presence full of old wounds and blame.
James went pale.
You… overheard?
I didnt need to, James. You were shouting into your mobile in the loo. I heard everything.
He set the milk down hard and dropped into a chair, shoulders slumped.
Its not what you think.
Oh? Then what is it? For the first time, emotion cracked through Emilys composure. That youve been restless for months? Always vanishing at night, looking at me like Im invisible? Are you going back to her? Just say it. I can handle it.
James gazed down at his hands. Those strong, skilled handsgood at fixing clocks or radios, but never good at mending love.
Im not going back to her, he said softly.
Then what? Are you sleeping with her again?
No! The rawness in his eyes tore at Emilys certainty. I swear, Em, its nothing like that.
Then what, James? Her voice rose. What are you fixing? Are you paying off her debts? Solving her problems? Living her life instead of ours?
He gave no answer.
So Emilys words, bottled for so long, came pouring out.
Just go, James. Go to her, if thats what you need. Or find whoever it is youre really searching for. Fix what you must. Just leave me out of it. I cant do this anymore. I dont want to.
She turned to leave, but James sprang up, blocking her path.
Theres nowhere for me to go! Helen, old or new, doesnt exist. I… I dont even understand whats going on. All I want is to put things right!
He turned away, choking on grief.
Stop speaking in riddles, Emily whispered.
You want to know what Im fixing? The control in Jamess voice broke. Its me! Im trying to fix myself. I cant. Cant you see? Youre patient, kinder than anyone deserves. You believed in me when I couldnt even face myself. With you, it was meant to be different. I was supposed to be differenta better man. But Im not. I keep ruining everything: missing birthdays, burying myself at work while you wait and fade. Not saying anything. Every time I see the light go out in your eyes, its just like it did in hers.
Emily said nothing, her silence sharp as glass.
Im not out there looking for someone new, James said, voice barely above a whisper. Im terrified of repeating the same mistakes, making someone else miserable. I dont know how to be a husband. Living together, day after day, without drama or shoutingI cant seem to do it. I wreck everything. Im not really living, just tiptoeing along, waiting to fall. And you, youre just as hollow as I am
James looked up, his blue eyes raw, lost, and finally honest.
Its not you. Not Helen. Its me.
Emily listened to his desperate confession and realisedJames had never betrayed her with another woman. He betrayed her with fear. He wasnt cruel, only lost, flailing for a life he didnt know how to live.
So now what, James? she asked, quietly defeated. You see it all now. And what will you do with that?
I dont know, he admitted, bleak and honest.
Then sort yourself out, Emily heard herself say. Get a therapist, bury yourself in books, run headfirst into a wallwhatever you need to do. But dont keep wandering in circles, waiting for something to magically erase your mistakes. Theres no easy fix. Just work. On yourself. Alone.
Without me.
She turned and walked past him to the hall, picking up her overcoat.
***
The door clicked shut behind her. James stood alone, the hush broken only by the hammering rain against the windows. He drifted toward the glass, watching Emilys figure melt into the London night, and the weight of what remained settled harshly on his shoulders.
His emptiness was no longer a ghost. It was right there, in the chilly flat, in the forgotten meal, in the hands that couldnt hold on.
And rather than chase after Emily, he reached for a bottle of brandyHe pressed his forehead to the cool pane, closing his eyes, breathing in the hush.
For a long while, James listenedto the ticking clock, the storm, to the emptiness Emilys leaving had left behind. He thought of everything hed tried to patch with small kindnesses and elaborate lies, of how even loveespecially lovedemanded more than quick repairs.
He did not know what would happen next, or even what he would say if Emily returned. But he understood, at last, that the real work had to begin in the quiet, in the hollow, where nobody else could witness the struggle but him.
Out in the dark, the streetlight caught Emilys face as she stepped past the garden gate. She exhaled a shuddering breath, feeling the chill, but alsosomewhere newan unfamiliar lightness. Grief and hope, interwoven.
For both of them, the tomorrow that waited was colder, emptier, but also eithers to shape at last. Maybe, in their two separate solitudes, they would find the strength to mend what had brokeneach within themselves.
In the small flat, James sat at the table, facing his unclaimed dinner, and for once did not turn away from the silence.
It would not be easy.
But it would be honest.
