**The Shadow of the Past in an Empty House**
On a damp evening in the quiet town of Pineford, where streetlamps cast dim reflections on the wet pavement, William sat alone in his flat, clutching his phone. The recording his wife had sent played in his mind like an echo of a shattered life:
*”William, please keep this for the children. Tell them I love them. I always will.
My darlings, my family…
It hurts so much right now—so unbearably heavy. I feel like the loneliest woman alive. No one knows what’s happening inside me, except me. No one sees how terrified and hollow I am. My soul is tearing apart from the pain, but I keep it all locked away so you, my loves, never see my despair.
Every morning I wake with a stone in my chest, and every night I fall asleep with an even greater weight. I keep searching for a way to find joy again, to be the person I once was. But each day brings new trials, and I can’t see a way out.
Why do I keep betraying you, William? That question tortures me every night. I’ve looked for answers in books, in prayers, in conversations—nothing helps. I’m drowning in doubts and fears.
You deserve better, William. You’ve always been a wonderful husband and father, giving us everything. But I can’t be the wife you need. There’s an emptiness in me no words can fill.
My children, you’re my world. I love you with all my heart, but even that love can’t silence this pain. Every glance, every word from you reminds me how unworthy I am as a mother. The shame crushes me.
Sometimes I think it’s better if I leave. Let your father find a woman who can love him as he deserves. Let you grow up in a home without lies. But the thought of losing you terrifies me.
What do I do? How do I escape this maze of agony? Where do I find salvation? These questions haunt me. I’d give anything to find peace again.
I hope you’ll understand. Goodbye.”*
—
Just the day before, William had stood by the window, watching Pineford sleep. The streetlights shimmered in puddles, painting the illusion of another world—calm, orderly. But inside his home, silence hung thick with dread and sorrow.
William had always tried to live right. Work, family, home—it had all been built like a fortress. But life kept tearing his plans apart. Three years ago, he’d first discovered his wife’s infidelity. Back then, he’d felt crushed, but for the sake of their children—their eight-year-old son and four-year-old daughter—he’d forgiven her. Emily swore it would never happen again, and he believed her. Not because he was naive, but because he wanted to. Family was sacred to him, and he’d fight for it to the end.
Now the pain had returned like an old enemy. The same wound, the same blow. William didn’t know what to do. Throw Emily out? Leave himself? How could he explain to the children why Mummy wasn’t there? He’d seen how divorce broke even adults—what would it do to little ones whose world was Mum and Dad?
He knew emotions couldn’t rule. He had to think of the future—how to save the family or at least soften the blow for the kids. So he decided to talk. He invited Emily to a small pub on the edge of Pineford, where they’d once laughed over wine in happier times. Away from the children and daily burdens, he hoped to find the truth.
*”Emily, I can’t stay silent anymore,”* he began, meeting her gaze. *”Why? Why did you do it again?”*
Emily lowered her head. She’d known this talk would come, but the words scorched her throat.
*”William, I didn’t mean to,”* she whispered. *”Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost myself. Like I’m living a life that isn’t mine. The children, the house, work—it’s all important, but I… I don’t know who I am anymore. I need to figure out who I can be.”*
*”What do you mean?”* William frowned. *”You’re a mother, a wife. You chose this life. What’s changed?”*
*”I’ve changed!”* Her voice trembled. *”And you don’t see it.”*
*”Let’s try again,”* he pleaded. *”For the children. I’ll do anything to make you happy. Just… let’s try.”*
They agreed to start anew. That night, they returned home almost hopeful. The children slept, and as they watched them, tenderness swelled in their hearts—this was worth fighting for. William went to bed believing not all was lost.
—
But by morning, the house was empty. Emily was gone. His phone held one last recording—her voice, raw with suffering. He tried calling, but her number was disconnected. Standing in the middle of the room, phone in hand, he felt the world collapse. Her words echoed like a verdict, and the silence screamed louder than any sound.
What now? How could he explain to the children that Mummy had left? How could he live with a heart torn between love and betrayal? He didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing—for his son and daughter, he’d find the strength. Even if it meant starting over without her.
