“I thought you wouldn’t come back…” — A Story of One Return
When Andrew came home from work, he dropped his bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and walked into the kitchen:
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, out of habit.
Emma didn’t even turn around.
“Nothing. But that doesn’t matter. I spoke to the landlady today. Told her we’re moving out by the end of the month.”
Andrew froze.
“What? We agreed we hadn’t found another place yet.”
“Why bother looking?” She turned to him with a smile. “We’re moving… to your ex-wife’s, Sarah’s.”
He sank into a chair, stunned.
“Emma, are you out of your mind?”
“Completely. You said yourself half the flat is still yours. We’ll save money, I’ve already found a nursery nearby for Benjamin, and the shops are right there.”
Andrew felt the air leave his lungs. He hadn’t felt in control of his life for a long time. His job paid less, the construction project he’d pinned his hopes on was delayed, and money was running desperately short.
Things with Emma had been souring for months. She was younger, demanding, and used to luxury. Once, it had been alluring. Now, it was exhausting.
After a long hesitation, he finally called Sarah.
“We’re in a bind. 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, Emma glanced around the flat and wrinkled her nose.
“Bit gloomy,” she muttered, walking through the rooms in her shoes. “It’ll do.”
Sarah bore it all in silence. But when it came to the kitchen, she laid down the rules.
“We take turns cleaning. Cook for ourselves. Fridge is shared, but with separate shelves.”
Emma was indignant.
“We didn’t sign up to live by your rules!”
“And we didn’t sign up to run a boarding house,” Sarah replied, her voice steady.
The next month was a nightmare. Emma needled Sarah, dropping hints for her to move out. But Sarah stood firm. Andrew stayed silent—he knew this mess was his fault.
One day, Sarah said, “I’m going to stay with my parents for a bit. Just—please don’t wreck the place.”
Emma barely hid her glee. The very next day, she started again.
“I’ve ordered a design plan, picked out the tiles—we need to pay—”
Andrew snapped.
“Have you lost it?! We never agreed to this. I’m not spending a single penny!”
“And who are you to decide?” she shot back. “You haven’t been a husband in ages—just a wallet that’s nearly empty.”
That evening, she packed her bags.
“Benjamin and I are leaving for Brighton. If you want us back, come get us. And bring money.”
Andrew silently took out his card and tossed it into her bag.
“I’ll see my son on Sundays.”
When the door closed behind them, Andrew felt something he hadn’t in years—freedom. He stood by the window, watching the Thames for a long time.
A week later, Sarah returned. Quietly, as always. He heard the water running in the bathroom and rushed in, forgetting he wasn’t alone anymore.
“Sorry…” he mumbled when he saw her.
She walked to 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 gave a wry smile. “Feels like I’ll be keeping you again. Well, are you hungry?”
“Starving. Haven’t eaten since morning.”
“Then peel the potatoes. Around here, we do things ourselves, you know.”
