Andrew was still stuck at the office when the night finally slipped away. Emily was alone at the kitchen table, staring at the cold roast chicken shed left to cool. The smell of herbs mingled with the faint waxy scent of a candle shed lit a couple of hours earlier the wax now trembling in uneven drops, like little tears. The telly was mumbling something about the weather, but she wasnt listening. She could hear the creak of the lift in the hallway and the soft thud of footsteps on the landing was that his?
The flat door stayed shut.
She could have called, said Where are you? or Im worried. But why bother? He always replied with the same short Soon or an irritated Dont nag me. Then hed come in, stare at his phone, and the silence would hang between them, as if they were two people standing on separate islands.
Theyd been living together for five years.
Yesterday, her mate Kate sent a photo of her babys christening happy faces, a gorgeous dress, Kates husband holding the little one. And today another wedding snap of their mutual friends popped up on her feed.
Whens yours? theyd asked.
Were not in a rush, Andrew would shrug.
Emily was fed up with that not in a rush.
Do you actually want to marry me? she asked.
Hed just walked in, tossed his jacket onto the couch, and was reaching for a can of lager in the fridge. The question caught him off guard his hand froze halfway.
Of course I do, he said, his voice flat, as if the words were stuck somewhere in his throat. Its just not the right time to bring it up.
And when will it be right? she lifted her fork as if seeing it for the first time. When you buy a flat? When you get a promotion? Or when were both turning forty?
He turned away, as if looking for rescue on a bottle label.
Dont get worked up, alright? Im exhausted.
Im exhausted too, she whispered.
He was already heading for the shower, leaving behind a thick silence, like fog that had swallowed them both for years.
Andrew grew up watching families fall apart.
He remembered his dad before the drinks took over funny, strong, tossing his fiveyearold son up on his shoulders. And the dad after eyes empty, always reeking of whisky, throwing plates at his mate.
Better no dad at all than one like that, he once blurted out to a friend.
Thats when he promised himself: if he ever started a family, it would never be like his. Hed only go ahead when he was sure he wouldnt repeat the mistake.
But certainty never showed up.
Emily was the polar opposite of his mum calm, patient, never prone to meltdowns. And yet
Every time she gently nudged the topic of marriage, Andrew found himself thinking:
What if Im wrong? What if theres a monster inside me?
He could see his hands clenching into fists after a hard day just like his fathers. He felt irritation bubbling up when Emily asked for something. Hed never raised a hand or even his voice at her, but fear lived deep down:
What if this is only the beginning?
One night, after a particularly tense conversation, Emily asked straight out:
Are you scared of becoming 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 give it a go.
But for Andrew, giving it a go meant risking another life being torn apart. That fear turned out stronger than any love.
I need to get on my feet first, Andrew said, stepping out of the shower, towel wrapped around him, eyes heavy after a twelvehour shift. I want everything to be perfect for us.
Emily sat at the table, waiting. Her look was a mix of understanding and weary disappointment theyd had this talk a hundred times.
What does perfect look like to you? she asked, no blame in her voice, just genuine curiosity.
Andrew froze. Hed thrown that word around so often hed never really examined it. In his head flashed images: a spacious flat in central London (even though they already rented a cosy twobed near the tube), a brandnew BMW (while his trusty Ford Focus had served him well for five years), a directors salary (when he already earned about three times the London average).
He didnt answer because he suddenly realised his idea of perfect was like a glossy advert shiny on the outside, hollow inside. He was waiting for some magical moment when the stars aligned, the bank balance doubled, and hed magically become the ideal husband, father, provider.
Emily watched his face change, knowing this trait of his the habit of trapping himself in unrealistic expectations.
You know, she said slowly, choosing her words, the perfect moment will never arrive. We can be happy right now, just as we are.
Andrew glanced around their flat the bookshelves theyd filled together, the photos from trips, Milo the cat snoozing on the armchair. For the first time he wondered if perfect was less about conditions and more about the two of them. Yet the fear of stepping into the unknown kept his mouth shut.
He reached for the remote, switched the telly off, and grabbed his phone, signalling the conversation was over.
Andrew loved Emily.
He loved the way she laughed at his awful jokes over breakfast. He loved how she muttered in her sleep when he tugged the blanket over her. He even loved the little habit of leaving halfdrunk tea cups around the flat each one made him smile.
But he also loved the silence.
The quiet that settled when Emily went up to her parents for the weekend. He loved his own quirks tossing socks on the floor, never switching the lights off, staying up playing video games till three in the morning, spontaneously heading off for a fishing trip with the mates without a long explanation.
Why do we need a stamp in the marriage register? hed ask one evening, pulling her into his arms while she washed the dishes. Were already together. Isnt that enough?
Emily wanted something more.
Not a diamond ring or a lavish banquet. She needed that almost intangible, but crucial feeling of choice. She wanted him to wake up each morning and decide, consciously, to be with her not out of habit, not because it just happened, but because he truly wanted it.
A stamp isnt about obligation, shed say, looking straight into his eyes. Its about picking this life out of all the possible ones. Picking us.
Andrew looked away. He knew hed already chosen her long ago, but the word forever still scared him, as if signing the register would bury the carefree lad who could bolt at any moment.
What if we get divorced? the thought burst out, as if itd been smouldering inside him for ages. He stood by the window, back to Emily, watching the London lights, but his mind drifted to lawyer fees, splitting assets, empty rooms.
What? Emily froze.
Well its expensive. Mortgage, maintenance, alimony he listed, sounding like he was drafting a business plan, not a breakup. You know how my colleague ended up gave away half the flat, still paying for the kid
Emily rose slowly, a bitter, almost soundless laugh escaping her more a sigh than a chuckle, like the last bubble of air from a sinking ship.
Youve already planned the divorce but youre scared to marry, she said, no anger, just tired understanding. The funny thing is, youre more terrified of the paperwork than of losing each other right now. Divorce is numbers, documents, concrete losses. Losing love thats abstract for you, isnt it?
Andrew turned. Confusion flickered in his eyes he hadnt expected that reaction. Hed braced for a fight, tears, maybe silent resentment, but not this sharp clarity.
I just he started, but the words lodged in his throat. 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 it.
Emily stepped closer, stopping just an arms length away. Her face was calm, but a new resolve shone in her eyes.
If youre already thinking about how well split up, she murmured, then were already splitting. Just havent put it on paper yet.
She turned and left the room, leaving Andrew alone with his calculations, his fears, and the sudden realisation that his attempts to futureproof their life were already destroying the present.
They broke up on one of those ordinary weekday mornings, the kind that usually pass unnoticed. No shouting, no shattered plates just Emily walking in an hour early from work, quietly packing her things. Andrew got home to find her doing exactly that.
You leaving? he asked, frozen in the doorway.
Emily folded the sweaters hed loved into a suitcase, each movement measured, showing this wasnt a spurofthemoment decision.
Yes, she said, eyes still down. Ive got a flat in the city centre.
Andrew felt the floor drop out from under him. Hed imagined this moment a hundred times, but now realised he wasnt ready. Not at all.
We could he began, but Emily cut him off.
No, Andrew. We cant. I gave us a month after that talk. You didnt even try.
She snapped the suitcase shut. The click sounded louder than any door slam.
Emily didnt leave because she stopped loving him. Love is a strange thing; it doesnt just vanish. She left because she finally understood his fear of commitment outweighed his love. He wasnt scared of marriage per se he was scared to make a conscious choice, to say yes not just to her but to the whole life that would follow.
I never expected a lifetime promise, she said at the door. All I asked for was for you to choose us now, right here. You never did.
Andrew was left alone in a flat that suddenly felt too big. Freedom, which had once seemed wonderful, now felt deafening. His phone buzzed with her number already dialled, erased five times over.
He was free. Completely free. He could go off on weekend trips with the lads, stay late at work, leave socks everywhere. Yet that very night he lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, remembering how Emily would mutter in her sleep when he nudged the blanket.
He never figured out what was scarier losing her or losing himself. Because with her gone, he suddenly saw that the real him was the bloke who laughed at his breakfast jokes, not the free Andrew hed clung to as an excuse.
The next morning, in the kitchen, he spotted her favourite tea cup, halffull. He washed it absentmindedly and put it back in the cupboard, then realised thered be no one left to leave cups scattered all over the flat.
