I think the love has faded.
Youre the prettiest girl in this whole department, he said that day, handing her a bunch of daises hed picked up at the market down the High Street.
Sophie laughed as she took the flowers. They smelled of summer and something simple and right. Tom stood there looking at her with that unwavering certainty in his eyes: he wanted her.
Their first date was in Hyde Park. Tom brought a picnic blanket, a flask of tea, and homemade sandwiches his mum had made that morning. They sat on the grass until dusk. Sophie always remembered his laugh, the way hed throw his head back. How his hand would brush hers as if by accident, how hed look at her like there was no one else in all of London.
Three months in, he took her to a little cinema for a quirky British comedy she didnt really get, but she laughed with him anyway. Six months later, she met his parents. By their first anniversary, he asked her to move in.
Were together every night as it is, Tom said, running his fingers through her hair. Why pay for two flats?
Sophie agreed. Not for the money, not really. But being with Tom just made sense. The world felt clearer.
Their tiny rented flat always smelled of roast dinners on Sundays and fresh laundry. Sophie learned to cook his favourite bangers and mash, just like his mum made itwith extra onions and loads of gravy. In the evenings, Tom would read out bits from business and finance magazines, rambling about his dreams of owning his own business one day. Sophie listened, propping her chin on her hand, believing every word.
They made plans: save for a deposit first, then buy a flat, then a car. Kids, of course. Twoa boy and a girl, he always said.
Well manage it all, Tom would say, kissing her on the top of her head.
Sophie just nodded. Next to him, she felt untouchable.
After fifteen years together, life was filled with familiar things and habits. Their flat was in a lovely neighbourhood, looking out over a small park. They had a twenty-year mortgage they worked relentlessly to pay off early, never splurging on holidays or fancy places to eat. The silver Toyota out front was Toms pride and joyhed picked it, haggled over the price himself, and polished it to a shine every single Saturday.
She felt this quiet, glowing pridetheyd made it all on their own. No family helping, no lucky breaks, no favours. Just hard graft and saving, bit by bit.
Sophie never complained. Even when she was so tired she fell asleep on the tube and woke up at the end of the line. Even when she dreamt of dropping everything and running off to the seaside for a week. They were a teamTom would say it, and she believed it.
His happiness was always first. Sophie had learned that, had woven it into her very being. Bad day at work? Shed make a warm dinner, pour some tea, and simply listen. Row with his boss? Shed stroke his hair and tell him things would be alright. Feeling not good enough? She found the right words to pull him out of a slump.
Youre my anchor, my safe place, Tom would say sometimes.
Sophie would smile. What could be better than being someones anchor?
There were tough times too. The first was five years in, when the company Tom worked for folded. He sat at home, hunting for jobs, growing gloomier every day.
The second time was much worse. Hed been set up by some colleagues at work, lost his job and owed thousands. They had to sell the car to clear the debt.
Not once did Sophie blame himnot with words, not even in a look. She took on extra projects, worked at night, scrimped on everything except his well-being. All that mattered to her then was how he was copingif he could come out of this, if his confidence would survive.
But Tom pulled through. He got another job, even better this time. They bought another carsame as before, silver Toyota. Life got back on track.
Last year, they were sat in the kitchen one evening when Sophie finally said what shed been thinking quietly for years.
Maybe its time, Tom. Im not in my twenties anymore. If we leave it much longer
Tom nodded, with that measured seriousness of his.
Lets get ready, then, he replied.
Sophie held her breath. Years of dreaming, waiting, putting it off, and nowthe moment had come.
Shed pictured it a thousand times: tiny hands holding hers, the scent of baby powder, first shaky steps in their living room, Tom reading a story at bedtime.
A baby. Their baby. Finally.
So everything started to changeSophie changed her diet, her routine, started taking vitamins and went to all the right appointments. She put her job second even though she was about to be promoted.
Are you sure? her manager said, peering over the top of her glasses. Opportunities like this dont come round often, you know.
Sophie was sure. Promotion meant more travel, unpredictable hours, and stressnot great when youre trying for a baby.
Ill take the transfer to the branch office, if thats alright, she replied.
Her manager just shrugged.
The branch was fifteen minutes from home. The work was a bit dull, nothing special, but she could clock out at six on the dot and forget about it all weekend.
Sophie settled in quickly. The new colleagues were nice enough, but not the ambitious type. She made packed lunches at home, took walks at lunchtime, and got to bed before midnight. All for the future. All for their family.
But the coldness crept in so slowly, she hardly noticed at first. Tom was just busy, tiredeveryone gets tired, she told herself.
But he stopped asking about her day. Stopped hugging her before bed. Stopped looking at her the way he did when he first called her the most beautiful girl in their year at university.
The flat went quiet. The wrong kind of quiet. Theyd always chatted about everythingwork, plans, silly stuff. Now Tom scrolled through his phone all night, barely answering her. Hed turn his back to the room and go straight to sleep.
Sophie would just stare at the ceiling, the gap between them on the mattress feeling endless.
No affection anymore. Two weeks, three, a monthafter a while, she stopped counting. Tom always had a reason.
Im shattered. Maybe tomorrow.
But tomorrow never came.
One night, Sophie finally got up the courage to ask head-on, blocking his way to the bathroom.
Whats going on, Tom? Pleasejust the truth.
Tom looked past her, fixing on the door frame.
Nothings wrong.
Thats not true.
Youre overthinking it. Itll all blow over. Just a phase.
He edged around her and locked himself in the bathroom. Water started running.
Sophie just stood in the hallway, palm pressed to her chest, feeling that dull familiar ache.
She held out another month. Then, she cracked and just asked:
Do you love me?
The pause was endless, dreadful.
I… dont know how I feel anymore, Soph.
She sank onto the sofa.
You dont know?
Finally, Tom looked right at her. His eyes were empty. Lost. Not a flicker of the passion that once burned bright and hot all those years ago.
I think I think I fell out of love. Long ago, really. Didnt say anything because I didnt want to hurt you.
Sophie had lived for months in this limbo, guessing, overanalysing his every word and glance, inventing reasonswork stress, midlife crisis, maybe just a long bad mood.
But really, hed just stopped loving her. And said nothing, while she planned their future, took a back seat at work, prepped her body for motherhood.
The decision came out of nowhere, clear and final. No more maybe, things could turn round, lets give it time. Enough.
Im filing for divorce.
Tom went ashen. She saw his Adams apple jerk as he swallowed.
Wait. Dont do anything drastic. We could try again
Try again?
What about a baby? Sometimes a baby brings people closer. They say it does.
Sophie let out a laughharsh, ugly.
A baby would make it worse. You dont love mewhy have kids, just to end up divorcing with a baby to look after?
Tom said nothing. He knew she was right.
Sophie left that day. Packed a small bag, stayed in a mates spare room. Filed for divorce a week later, when her hands finally steadied.
Sorting things was a slow nightmareproperty, the car, fifteen years of shared things and choices. The solicitor talked about valuations, shares, negotiation. Sophie just nodded, wrote things down, trying not to think about how her whole life was now being divided up into square metres and horse power.
Soon enough she found her own little flat to rent. Sophie learned to live solomaking dinner for one, watching telly without anyones running commentary, spreading out on the whole bed.
Nights were the worst. Shed lie there, face buried in the pillow, remembering. The daises from the market. The picnics in Hyde Park. His laughter, his hands, his voice whispering, Youre my anchor.
The pain felt unbearable. Fifteen years doesnt just drop out of your heart like tossing old clothes in the bin.
But beneath it all, something else bubbled up. Relief. Shed done itwalked away before she tied herself to this man with a child. Before she trapped herself in a marriage gone cold, clinging on just for the sake of keeping the family together.
Thirty-two years old. Her whole life still ahead.
Scary? Terrifying, really.
But shed manage. What other choice did she have?
