Give Me, Please, a Reason “Have a good day,” Denis leaned in, brushing her cheek with his lips. Anastasia nodded automatically. Her cheek stayed cool and dry—no warmth, no irritation. Just skin, just a touch. The door shut, and silence settled over the flat. She lingered in the hallway for ten more seconds, listening for something within herself. When had it happened, exactly? When did something inside snap and just… switch off? Anastasia remembered sobbing in the bathroom two years ago because Denis forgot their anniversary. She remembered shaking with anger a year ago when he left her to pick Vasily up from nursery—again. Six months ago, she was still trying, talking, explaining. Asking. Now—nothing. Just an empty, scoured field. Anastasia walked to the kitchen, poured herself coffee, and sat down. Twenty-nine years old. Seven of them married. And here she was, sitting in an empty flat with a cooling cup, realizing she’d fallen out of love with her husband so quietly, so ordinarily, she hadn’t even noticed it happen. Denis carried on by habit. Promised to pick up their daughter—never did. Said he’d fix the dripping tap in the bathroom—the tap had been leaky for three months. Swore they’d finally take Vasily to the zoo on the weekend—on Saturdays his friends had sudden plans, on Sundays he’d just sprawl on the sofa. Vasily stopped asking when Daddy would play with her. At five, her daughter already understood: Mummy is reliable. Daddy is someone who sometimes appears in the evenings and watches TV. Anastasia didn’t make scenes anymore. Didn’t cry into her pillow. Didn’t plan how to fix things. She simply erased Denis from her life’s equation. Need the car serviced? She made the call herself. Broken lock on the balcony door? She phoned the locksmith. A snowflake costume needed for the school play? Anastasia sewed it at night, while her husband snored in the next room. Their family became a strange invention: two adults, living parallel lives under one roof. One night, Denis reached for her in bed. Anastasia quietly shifted away—a headache, she said. Then tiredness. Then various ailments that didn’t exist. With every gentle refusal, she built a wall between them, and each time that wall grew a little higher. “Let him have an affair,” she thought, coldly. “Let him give me a real reason. A clear, understandable reason that my parents and his mum will accept. One I won’t have to explain.” Because how do you explain to your own mother that you’re leaving your husband just because he’s… nothing much? He doesn’t hit her, doesn’t drink, brings money home. So he doesn’t help around the house—“men are like that.” So he keeps his distance with the child—“men just don’t know how to be with kids.” Anastasia opened a separate bank account, started saving part of her salary. Joined a gym—not for him, but for herself. For that new life beckoning somewhere beyond the inevitable end. In the evenings, after Vasily was asleep, Anastasia put on headphones and listened to English podcasts: conversational phrases, business correspondence. Her company worked with British clients, and fluency might open entirely new doors. Two nights a week, she took evening courses. Denis grumbled that he’d have to stay with Vasily—though his “watching her” meant just putting on cartoons and staring at his phone. Weekends, Anastasia spent with her daughter: parks, playgrounds, milkshake cafés, matinee movies. Vasily got used to Mummy time—just the two of them. Daddy existed somewhere about the place, like a piece of furniture. “She won’t even notice,” Anastasia told herself, clinging to that hope. “When we divorce, nothing will really change for her.” Convenient thought. She clung to it like a life raft. And then… something shifted. It took a while before Anastasia noticed. One evening, Denis offered to put Vasily to bed himself. Then he picked her up from nursery, unprompted. Then—cooked dinner. Nothing fancy, just pasta with cheese, but no reminders, no coaxing. Anastasia watched skeptically. What’s this? Guilt? A momentary blip? Was he hiding some mistake she hadn’t found out about? But the days passed, and Denis didn’t slip back into indifference. He started getting up to take Vasily to nursery. Fixed the leaky tap. Signed her up for swimming, took her every Saturday. “Daddy, Daddy, watch me! I can dive now!” Vasily would shout, running around the flat, imitating a swimmer. Denis would scoop her up, toss her laughing, and the flat would ring with his daughter’s delight. Anastasia watched from the kitchen, barely recognising her husband. “I can take Vasily on Sunday,” Denis mentioned one evening. “You’ve got a coffee date with friends, haven’t you?” Anastasia nodded. No date planned—she just wanted some time alone with a book in a café. How did he even know about her friends? Was he paying attention? Weeks blurred into a month, then another. Denis didn’t give up, didn’t revert. “I booked a table for the two of us at that Italian place,” he announced one day. “Friday. Mum’s agreed to watch Vasily.” Anastasia looked up from her laptop. “What’s that for?” “No special reason. I just want to have dinner with you.” She agreed. Out of curiosity, she told herself. Just to see what he was up to. The restaurant was warm, softly lit, with live music. Denis ordered her favourite wine—Anastasia was startled he remembered what it was. “You’ve changed,” she said, straight out. Denis rolled his glass in his hands. “I was blind. Completely foolish—a classic idiot.” “Hardly news.” “I know.” He smiled, but not happily. “I thought I was working for the family. That you wanted more money, a bigger house, a better car. I was really just… running away. From responsibility, real life, all of it.” She let the silence hang. “I noticed you changed. You… didn’t care anymore. And that… that was scarier than any argument. When you yelled or cried, at least it meant something. But then you just… stopped. As if I didn’t exist.” He set the glass down. “I almost lost you. You and Vasily. That’s when I got it—I was doing everything all wrong.” She stared at him, uncertain. Too late? Or not quite? “I was going to leave, you know,” she said softly. “Waiting for you to give me a reason.” Denis paled. “God, Ana…” “I was saving money. Looking for a flat.” “I had no idea it was that bad…” “You should have known,” she interrupted. “This is your family. You should have seen.” Heavy silence. The waiter skirted their table instinctively. “I want to work on this,” Denis said, finally. “On us. If you’ll let me try.” “One chance.” “One is more than I deserve.” They stayed until the lights went out—talking properly, for the first time in years. About Vasily, about money, about chores and expectations. It was a real conversation, not accusations or autopilot small talk. It was slow, rebuilding. Anastasia didn’t embrace him with relief the next morning. She observed, waited, watched for backsliding. Denis kept at it. He took over weekend cooking. Learned the ins-and-outs of the school WhatsApp group. Mastered plaiting Vasily’s hair—wonky and bumpy, but he did it himself. “Mummy, Daddy made me a dragon!” Vasily burst in, waving a cardboard-and-paper monstrosity. Anastasia smiled at the lopsided, one-winged dragon. Six months swept by. December: the whole family went to Anastasia’s parents’ cottage—an old, timber-fragranced house wrapped in snow. Anastasia sat at the window with a mug of tea, watching Denis and Vasily build a snowman. Her daughter gave commands—nose here, eyes higher, scarf tied all wrong!—and Denis complied, giggling, tossing Vasily up into the air as she shrieked with joy. “Mummy! Come on!” Vasily called, waving. Anastasia shrugged on her coat and stepped out into the clear sunlight. Snow bit her cheeks; a snowball suddenly hit her side. “It was Daddy!” Vasily instantly tattled. “Traitor,” Denis muttered, grinning. Anastasia scooped a handful of snow and lobbed it back—missed. Denis laughed, she laughed, and within moments all three were rolling in the drifts, forgetting snowmen, forgetting everything. That evening, Vasily fell asleep on the sofa before her film was finished. Denis carried her gently to bed, tucked her in, brushed her hair from her forehead. Anastasia sat by the fire, warming her hands on a cup. Outside, the snow drifted down, soft and thick, cocooning the world in silence. Denis sat beside her. “What are you thinking?” he asked. “That I’m glad I didn’t get the chance.” He didn’t ask what she meant. He understood. Love takes work—small, everyday effort: to listen, notice, give a hand. Anastasia knew there’d still be rough days, squabbles over nothing, patches of distance. But here and now, her husband and daughter were beside her: real, living, loved. Vasily woke up and snuggled in between them on the sofa. Denis hugged them close, and Anastasia thought—some things are still worth fighting for…

Have a good day, Dan leant in and brushed his lips across her cheek.

Emily nodded absentmindedly. Her cheek felt cool and dryneither warm nor irritatedjust skin, just a touch. The door clicked shut, and the flat was instantly swallowed up by silence.

She stood in the hallway for another ten seconds or so, tuning into herself, trying to listen. When had it happened, that switch? That moment something inside her had flicked off? She could remember, two years ago, sobbing in the bath because Dan had forgotten their anniversary. Or last year, trembling with anger when hed yet again failed to pick Holly up from nursery. Just six months ago, shed still tried to talk, explain, plead.

Now? Nothing. Just emptiness. Flat and bare, like a field after harvest.

Emily wandered into the kitchen, poured herself a mug of coffee, and dropped into a chair. Twenty-nine. Seven years of marriage. And here she sat, in a quiet flat with lukewarm coffee, realising shed fallen out of love with her husband so gradually and silently she hadnt even noticed it happening.

Dan just carried on as usual. Promised hed get Holly from nurserynever did. Said hed fix the dripping tap in the bathroomthree months later, still leaking. Swore theyd finally take Holly to the zoo that weekendSaturday he suddenly had urgent plans with his mate, Sunday he just lay around on the sofa.

Holly had stopped asking when her dad would play with her. At five, she already understoodmum was reliable. Dad was some guy who popped up in the evenings and stared at the telly.

Emily had stopped ranting. She didnt sob into her pillow anymore. She didnt plot ways to fix things. Shed simply erased Dan from her daily equation.

Need the car servicing? She rang up the garage herself. Broken lock on the balcony door? She phoned a locksmith. Holly needed a snowflake costume for her nursery Christmas do? Emily sewed it at night, while her husband snored in the next room.

Family life became this odd contraption of two adults living parallel lives under one roof.

One night, Dan reached for her in bed. Emily gently edged away, blaming a headache. Next time, she said she was too tired. Then some mystery ailment. She was building a wall, brick by brick, and each refusal made it taller.

Let him find someone else, she thought, coolly. Let him give me a proper reason. Something clear-cutone the family would understand. Something I wouldnt have to explain.

How could she tell her mum she wanted to leave just because her husband was nothing in particular? He didnt hit her, didnt drink, brought money home. So what if he didnt do houseworkwasnt that just men? So what if he didnt play with his childmost blokes were rubbish with kids.

Emily opened a separate bank account and started setting money aside from her wages. She joined a gymnot for Dan, but for herself. For the new life just glimmering somewhere ahead, after the inevitable divorce.

At night, when Holly was asleep, Emily slipped on headphones and listened to podcasts in English. Everyday talk, business emails. Her company worked with foreign clients; being fluent might open entirely different doors.

Two evenings a week, she was at professional development courses. Dan grumbled hed have to babysit Hollythough that meant putting on cartoons and ignoring her, buried in his phone.

Weekends, Emily spent with Holly. Parks, playgrounds, cafés with milkshakes, trips to the cinema for the latest kids films. Holly knew: weekends were mum time. Dad hovered at the edge, like a piece of furniture.

She wont even notice, Emily reassured herself. When I finally leave, for Holly things barely change.

It was a comforting thought, and she clung to it like a lifebelt. But then, something shifted.

She didnt even realise it at first. But one evening, out of the blue, Dan offered to put Holly to bed. Another night, he said hed pick her up from nursery. Then, he cooked dinnerokay, just pasta and cheese, but stillon his own, without being badgered.

Emily eyed him suspiciously. What was this? Guilt? Some random brainwave? Was he trying to right some wrong she didnt yet know about?

But the days kept ticking on, and Dan didnt slip back into his old ways. He started getting up early to take Holly to nursery. Fixed that tap at last. Signed Holly up for swimming and actually drove her to lessons on Saturdays.

Daddy, daddy, look, I can dive now! Holly whizzed around the flat, flapping her arms.

Dan would grab her, throw her in the air, and Hollys laughter would ring out, bright and wild.

Emily watched all this from the kitchen, unable to recognise her own husband.

I can look after her on Sunday, if you want to see your friends, Dan said one evening.

Emily nodded slowly. No such plan, in truthshe just fancied sitting alone with her book in a café for a bit. But since when did he know she had friends to meet? Did he pay attention to her phone calls now?

Weeks joined into a month. Then two. Dan didnt give up, or retreat, or slip back into indifference.

Ive booked us a table at that Italian place, he said one day. Friday night. Mums agreed to have Holly.

Emily raised her eyes from her laptop.

Whats the occasion?
No reason. Just fancied dinner with you.

She agreed, out of curiosity, she told herself. Just seeing what he was up to.

The place was lovelydimly lit, soft music playing. Dan even ordered her favourite wineand she was surprised to realise hed remembered which one it was.

Youve changed, she said, straight out.

Dan turned his wine glass in his hands.

Ive been blind. Utter fool. A total cliché.
Not news to me.
I know. He gave a crooked, not-happy smile. I thought, working hard was for the family. Bigger flat, nicer car, all that. But really, I was avoiding things. Responsibility, messy bits, the lot.

Emily stayed quiet, letting him talk.

I noticed youd changed. That youd stopped caring. That scared me, more than any row, you know? When you shouted, cried, naggedit was normal. And then, suddenly, you just stopped. Like Id vanished.

He set down his glass.

I nearly lost the pair of you. You and Holly. That’s when it hit me how badly Id got it wrong.

Emily gazed at him. This man, right there, finally saying things shed waited years to hear. Was it too late? Or not quite?

I was planning to leave you, she said quietly. I was waiting for you to give me a reason.

Dan went pale.

God, Em
I was saving up. Looking at flats.
I didnt know itd got that bad
You should have done, she interrupted. This is your family. You should have noticed.

Silence thickened between them. The waiter, sensing the atmosphere, gave their table a wide berth.

I want to work on this, Dan said at last. On us. If youll give me the chance.
One chance.
Ones more than I deserve.

They sat there till closing, talkingabout Holly, about money, about sharing chores, about what they each really wanted. For the first time in years, it was an actual conversation. Not complaints, not routine exchanges.

Fixing things was slow. Emily didnt rush back into his arms the next morning. She watched, waited for the catch. But Dan kept at it.

He took over weekend breakfasts. Braved the nursery WhatsApp group. Learnt how to braid Hollys hairwonky and uneven, but still.

Mum, lookdad made me a dragon! Holly burst into the kitchen, showing off a dragon built from boxes and paper, lopsided with one wing bigger than the other.

Emily looked at this ridiculous creation and smiled

Half a year went by before they realised.

It was December, and theyd all gone to Emilys parents cottage for the weekend. The old house smelled of wood and baking, the garden was wrapped in snow, the steps creaked under their feet.

Emily was sitting by the window, cup of tea in hand, watching Dan and Holly trying to build a snowman. Holly was bossing Dan aboutnose here, eyes higher, scarfs wonky!and Dan followed every order, scooping her up now and then, throwing her into the air, her gleeful shrieks cutting through the winter air.

Mum! Mummy, come here! Holly waved frantically.

Emily grabbed her coat and stepped outside. The snow sparkled in the low sun, her cheeks tingled with coldand suddenly, a snowball hit her side-on.

It was Dad! Holly shrieked, instantly giving him up.
Traitor! Dan protested.

Emily balled up some snow and lobbed it back, missing wildly. He laughed, she laughed, and within seconds they were all rolling about in the snow, the snowman forgotten, not caring about the chill or anything else.

That evening, when Holly crashed out on the sofa before the end of her film, Dan carefully carried her to bed. Emily watched him tuck her in, smooth her hair off her forehead.

She settled by the fire, hands wrapped round her mug. Outside, fat white flakes drifted quietly down, layering the world in a blanket.

Dan sat next to her.

Whats on your mind?
How glad I am that I didnt go through with it.

He didnt ask what she meant. He knew.

Marriage takes workevery day. Not grand gestures, but little things: listening, helping, noticing, caring. Emily knew there would be rough days ahead, silly squabbles, misunderstandings.

But right then, her husband and daughter were there, alive and real and loved.

Holly woke and curled up between them on the sofa. Dan wrapped his arms around both, and Emily thoughtsome things really are worth fighting for.