The plates with cold dinner sat untouched on the table. Mary stared at them, though she hardly saw anything at all. What she did see, as clear as day, were the numbers on the clock, creeping forward in a slow, mocking crawl. 10:47pm.
Tom had said hed be home by nine. As always…
Her phone was silent.
Mary couldnt even summon anger anymore.
Whatever spark had once flickered inside her had burned out, leaving only a cold, heavy fatigue.
It was nearly half past eleven when she heard the key turn in the door.
She didnt so much as glance over. Bundled in a blanket on the sofa, she just stared at a fixed spot on the wall.
Evening, love. Sorry Im late, work was a nightmare, Tom called out, his tired voice performing a poor pantomime of cheerfulness. He always sounded like that when he was lying.
He came closer, bent down to kiss her cheek. Mary automatically leaned away. Just slightly, but he noticed.
Something wrong? Tom asked, unwinding his scarf.
Do you remember what today is? Marys voice was barely above a whisper, drained of warmth.
He paused for a second, thinking.
Wednesday. Why?
Its my mums birthday. We were meant to take her a cake, do you remember? You promised.
Toms face changed in an instant. The smile vanished, replaced by a flash of guilt and panic.
Oh God, Mary, I completely forgot. Im so sorryworks just been a shambles. Ill call her first thing tomorrow.
He headed for the kitchen. Mary listened to him rummaging in the fridge, heard the clatter of plates and cutlery. That was always his escapejust hide in the clatter and clink, as if the mess of mugs and forks could shield him from awkward truths.
But tonight, she wasnt going to let him off. She stood and went to the kitchen door.
Tom, who exactly kept you so bogged down at the office until nearly midnight?
He turned around. The hand holding the milk shook a little.
With the team. Weve got a new project launching. Deadlines loomingyou know how it is.
I do, she nodded. And I also happen to know that at three this afternoon, you were on the phone saying, Helen, I know, but I have to fix this.
Helen. Helen, his ex-wife. The ghost that had haunted their lives for three years. A chill, silent resentment always hanging between them, tainting the air.
Tom went pale.
Were you listening in?
I didnt have to listen in. You were in the loo, talking so loudly the whole house could hear.
He set the milk on the counter, slumping heavily into a chair.
Its not what you think.
And what am I supposed to think? For the first time in ages, Marys voice cracked with feeling. That youve been walking on eggshells for half a year? That you vanish every evening? That you look right through me like Im invisible? Are you trying to get her back? Tell me the truth. I can take it.
Tom looked down at his hands. Strong, capable hands that could fix anythingjust not happiness.
Im not trying to go back to her, he said softly.
Then what, Tom? Are you sleeping with her again?
No! His eyes were so full of pain and sincerity that, for a moment, Mary doubted her accusations. Mary, I swear, its nothing like that.
Then what?! What is it youre so busy fixing over there? Are you paying off her debts? Sorting her messes out? Living her life instead of living with me?
He said nothing.
Everything Mary had bottled up just spilled out, unstoppable.
Go, Tom. If she matters so much, go to Helen. Or whoever it is you need to run to. Go fix your mistakesjust leave me be. I cant do this anymore. And Im done trying.
She made to leave, but Tom jumped up, blocking her.
Theres nowhere for me to go! Ive got no Helen, not anymore. No one new, either! I I dont even really know whats wrong. I just want to sort things out!
He turned away, swallowing hard.
Stop talking in riddles, Mary whispered.
You want to know what Im trying to fix? He broke, unable to hide it. MyselfIm trying to fix myself. And I cant. Dont you see? Youre not her. Youve been patient, kinder than Ive deserved, you believed in me even when I couldnt. With you, it was all meant to work out. I was supposed to changebe better. But Im not. I keep ruining everything: forgetting birthdays, burying myself in work when youre waiting at home, keeping silent. I look in your eyes and I see the light going out. The same way I saw it go in hers.
Mary was quiet.
I dont want to start over with someone else, Tom carried on, voice low, Im scared itll just end up the same. That Ill miss something vital, hurt someone again, drive them to tears and despair, or worse. I just dont know how to be a husband, I dont know how to live togetherday in, day out, without drama, without blowing up everything. I ruin things all around me. Im not living, just balancing on a wire, terrified Ill slip. And youyoure like a ghost next to me
He looked at Mary. For once, his stare was lost, but honest:
So its not you, or Helen. Its me. Im the problem…
Listening to his tangled confession, Mary realised: he hadn’t betrayed her with another woman. Hed betrayed her with his own fear. He wasnt the villainjust someone lost, who didnt know how to go on.
So what now, Tom? she asked with no trace of anger. Youve figured all that out. What now?
I dont know, he admitted, quiet and true.
Then go sort yourself out, Mary replied, unable to hold it back, Go see a counsellor, bury yourself in books, bang your head against the walljust do something. Stop chasing after a magic fix for your past mistakes. Theres no magic button. All there is, is hard work. On yourself. Go and do it. Alone.
Without me.
She left the kitchen, walked past him into the hall and pulled on her coat.
***
The door clicked shut. Tom was left on his own, surrounded by silence broken only by the tap of rain. He walked to the window, watched Marys shadow melt into the wet darkness, and felt a crushing weight settle on him. The weight of what lingered in the empty flat.
His failing wasnt lurking in the shadows anymore. It was here and now, in the cold dinner, in his useless hands that couldnt hold onto anything.
And instead of chasing after Mary, he reached for the bottle of brandy on the counterHe let himself stand there, empty and exposed, until the chill seeped through his bones. There was no one left to perform for.
In the kitchen, the untouched meal was a quiet accusation. Tom sat and ran his finger along the cold plate, feeling the sting of its indifference.
Maybe this was how it begannot with grand gestures or tearful promises, but with absence. With living through the echo of loss until the sound became familiar, a battered lullaby.
For the first time, he didnt reach for his phone, didnt fill the quiet with excuses or distractions. He just sat. Let the ache seep in. At last, he heard how loud his regrets were, how desperately hed been talking over them.
Outside, the rain softeneda hush settling over the world as if granting permission to breathe, to break, to rebuild.
Tom closed his eyes and felt the weight of his aloneness. It didnt crush him, not completely. Instead, it anchored him to the truth. To the slow, painful certainty that this was his rock bottom. The only place left to start again.
And somewhere out there, under the dripping streetlights, Mary kept walking, her pulse quickening with each step. The heaviness shed carried for so long ebbed, replaced not by hope, but by the thin, clean edge of possibility.
Two hearts in the cityquiet, bruised, unfinishedbeginning, finally, to heal.
