“Katie, oh my God…” sobbed Sophie into the phone.
“What’s wrong? Spit it out—is it James? Sophie, why won’t you just tell me?” Katie shouted.
“W-w-w… Jack… Oh God…” Sophie wailed again.
“Did something happen to Jack? Was there an accident?” Katie could practically see Sophie shaking her head, as if she thought Katie could somehow see her through the phone.
“Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m hanging up, you hear me? I’ll be there in ten. Just wait.” She waited a second, listening to her friend’s sobs, but when it was clear she wouldn’t get a straight answer, she ended the call.
She threw on her coat, grabbed her handbag, checked for her phone and keys, and locked the flat behind her. Sophie lived just a few streets away, so Katie hurried down the pavement, breaking into a jog at times, muttering under her breath, “Always so dramatic. I swear, if she’s dragged me out over nothing…”
Five minutes later, she was punching the buzzer at Sophie’s building. The intercom crackled.
“Soph, open up—it’s me!” Katie yelled. Another crackle, then a beep as the lock clicked. She pushed inside, the dimness swallowing her as the door swung shut behind her.
“Bloody hell, someone could break their neck in here,” she grumbled, fumbling for the stair rail.
Waiting for the lift, she tapped her foot impatiently, running through every possible disaster in her head. “Please, just let everyone be alive and unharmed…” At the door, she paused, listening. No sobs—that was something. She took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Sophie answered, face puffy and tear-streaked. She turned robotically and shuffled to the kitchen. Katie sighed, kicked off her trainers, and followed.
Sophie slumped into a chair, hands limp in her lap, shoulders hunched like the weight of the world was crushing her.
“Soph, what’s happened? You scared me half to death,” Katie said, placing a hand on her back. “Spit it out, because I’m clueless here.”
“Jack left me,” Sophie said, voice hollow.
“Left? For another woman?”
A nod.
“What happened? Did he say it, or are you just assuming?” Katie pressed. She wasn’t surprised—Jack had always been the type to turn heads. She’d warned Sophie to keep an eye on him.
“He said he loves someone else. Packed his things and walked out. Katie, why? I did everything—cooked, cleaned, raised our son, starved myself to stay slim—and he still left.”
Katie exhaled sharply. “Everyone’s alive, and you’re howling like it’s a funeral. He’ll get bored and come crawling back.” She dropped into the next chair.
“You think so?” Sophie’s head snapped up, hope flashing in her eyes.
“Who knows? What’s she like? Young? Pretty?”
“My age. Big, red hair, and a lazy eye,” Sophie muttered, shaking her head. “Katie, what was he missing? I’m ten times prettier, and he still…” Her voice broke.
“Don’t blame yourself. Midlife crisis, hormones, whatever. He’ll snap out of it.”
Sophie’s shoulders shook with another wave of sobs.
“Stop crying. Pull yourself together. If he walks in now and sees you like this, he’ll bolt for sure.”
“Katie, I can’t live without him,” Sophie whimpered. “It’s unbearable. Maybe I should just—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Katie cut in sharply. “You think he’d feel guilty? No, he’d love it—proof he’s some irresistible catch. And your son? You want him growing up thinking his mum gave up?”
Sophie fell silent, staring.
“Good. Now, any wine left?” Katie grabbed the half-empty bottle and poured two large glasses. “Drink up. Liquid therapy.”
Sophie gulped it down like water.
“We were supposed to move into a bigger flat,” she mumbled. “His company was building a block—discount for staff. Now he’ll be living there with her, and Danny and I are stuck here.”
“Stop crying. You’ll look a mess,” Katie said, refilling the glasses.
“I can’t—I feel sick,” Sophie swayed on her seat.
“You’re being ridiculous. Drink your wine.”
“Katie… thanks for coming. You always know what to say.” Sophie’s voice was steadier now. “Stay the night, yeah? It helps when you’re here.”
“Fine. But I’m making tea.”
By morning, Sophie was moving again—though groggily. They rushed Danny to nursery, laughing at their own disheveled state.
At work, Katie kept an eye on her, nudging her whenever she zoned out.
“Coming back to mine?” Katie asked after their shift.
“No. I’ll manage.”
Sophie held it together in public, but at home, Danny watched her quietly, sensing the hurt. Weeks passed, but the ache didn’t fade. Jack never called.
Finally, she cracked and dialed his number.
“Jack, can you come over? We need to talk… Danny misses you.”
She flitted around the kitchen, nerves twisting her stomach. The doorbell rang, and her heart lurched.
“Dad!” Danny raced to the door before she could.
Jack stood in the hallway, hugging their son. Seeing him—so familiar, yet so distant—sent a pang through her.
“Danny, give your dad some space,” she said softly. “Jack, stay for dinner?”
He shrugged off his coat. “What did you want to talk about?”
Sophie looked at him—still handsome, still untouchable. “I can’t do this without you. Danny needs his father. I won’t bring it up again, just… come home.” Her voice quivered.
“I can’t. We’re having a baby.”
“A baby? What about Danny?” she choked out.
“Danny’s my son. You won’t keep him from me, will you?”
“Oh, that’s rich! You want to play weekend dad now?” Her composure shattered. “You’re a monster! I hope that baby’s sick—you deserve to suffer like I have!”
She lunged, gripping his arm. Jack shoved her back—too hard. She stumbled, her head cracking against the table edge.
Blackness.
When she woke, Jack was pale, whispering into his phone. “Ambulance… woman, unconscious…”
Danny was gone.
Four hours later, police found him shivering on a park bench. Sophie collapsed into relieved tears.
Jack stayed that night. By morning, she sent him away. No more scenes. No more begging.
He divorced her, married the other woman, had a healthy baby girl.
He visited Danny, brought small gifts. The boy took them but never clung to him like before.
Sophie never asked him back. She let go.
Because in the end, love wasn’t enough. Who was to blame? A question as old as time itself.
