“I thought you wouldn’t come back…” — A Story of One Return
When Andrew returned home from work, he tossed his bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and headed to the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, out of habit.
Polly didn’t even turn around.
“Nothing. But it doesn’t matter. I spoke to the landlady today. Told her we’re moving out at the end of the month.”
Andrew froze.
“What? We agreed we hadn’t found a new place yet.”
“Why bother looking?” She turned to him with a smile. “We’re moving… in with your ex-wife, Emily.”
He sank into a chair, stunned.
“Polly, have you lost your mind?”
“Not at all. You said yourself part of the flat is still yours. We’ll save money, I’ve already found a nursery nearby for Oliver, and the shops are just round the corner.”
Andrew felt the air leave his lungs. He hadn’t felt in control of his life in ages. Work paid less, the construction job he’d pinned his hopes on was delayed, and money was tighter than ever.
Things with Polly had been rocky for a while. She was younger, demanding, and used to luxury. Once, it had seemed appealing. Now, it was exhausting.
He hesitated but finally called Emily.
“We’re in a tight spot. Need somewhere to stay for a couple of months.”
“It’s your flat too, Andrew. Of course, come over,” she replied calmly.
When they arrived, Polly glanced around the flat and wrinkled her nose.
“A bit dim,” she muttered, walking through the rooms with her shoes on. “It’ll do.”
Emily endured it in silence. But when it came to the kitchen, she laid down rules.
“We take turns cleaning. We cook our own meals. Fridge is shared but with separate shelves.”
Polly was furious.
“We didn’t sign up to live by your rules!”
“And we didn’t sign up to run a boarding house,” Emily replied evenly.
The next month was a nightmare. Polly needled Emily, dropping hints for her to leave. But Emily held her ground. Andrew stayed quiet, knowing he was to blame for all of it.
One day, Emily said,
“I’m going to stay with my parents for a bit. Just—please don’t wreck the place.”
Polly could barely hide her delight. The next day, she brought it up again.
“I’ve ordered a designer’s blueprint, picked out tiles—we need to pay for it…”
Andrew snapped.
“Have you gone mad? We never agreed to this! I won’t give you a single penny!”
“And who are you to decide?” she shot back. “You stopped being a husband ages ago. Now you’re just a nearly empty wallet.”
That evening, she packed her bags.
“Oliver and I are going to Bath. If you want us back, come get us. And bring money.”
Andrew silently pulled out his card and tossed it into her bag.
“I’ll see my son on Sundays.”
When the door closed behind them, Andrew felt free for the first time in years. He stood by the window, staring at the river for a long time.
A week later, Emily returned. Quietly, as usual. He heard the bathroom tap and rushed in, forgetting someone else was home again.
“Sorry…” he mumbled when he saw her.
She walked into the kitchen, and without turning, he said,
“I think I still love you.”
“And I, Andrew. But there’s no going back. Only starting over.”
“I’m ready,” he whispered.
“Ready, he says…” She smirked. “Feels like I’ll be supporting you all over again. Well, hungry?”
“Starving. Haven’t eaten since morning.”
“Then peel the potatoes. We do things ourselves here, you know.”
