The Shadow of the Past in an Empty House
On a damp evening in the quiet town of Willowbrook, where lamplight cast faint reflections on the wet pavement, Arthur sat in the silence of his flat, clutching his phone. The recording his wife had sent echoed in his mind like the shattered remnants of a life once whole:
“Arthur, please keep this for the children. Tell them I love them. I always will.
My darlings, my precious ones…
The pain I feel now is unbearable. I’ve never been so alone. No one knows the torment in my soul, no one sees the fear and emptiness tearing me apart. I hold it all inside so you, my loves, never witness my despair.
Each morning, I wake with a weight upon my chest, and each night, it only grows heavier. I long to find joy again, to be the woman I once was, but every day brings new trials, and I see no escape.
Why do I betray you, Arthur? This question haunts me. I search for answers in books, in prayers, in conversations—yet nothing eases the doubt swallowing me whole.
You deserve better, Arthur. You’ve been a devoted husband and father, giving us everything. But I cannot be the wife you need. There’s a void in me no words can fill.
My children, you are my everything. I love you beyond measure, but that love can’t silence this pain. Every glance from you, every word, reminds me how unworthy I am as a mother. The shame consumes me.
Sometimes I think it would be better to leave. Perhaps your father should find a woman who loves him as he deserves. Perhaps you should grow up in a home without deceit. But the thought of losing you terrifies me.
What do I do? How do I escape this labyrinth of sorrow? Where do I find salvation? These questions torment me. I would do anything to find peace again.
I hope you’ll understand. Goodbye.”
—
Just yesterday, Arthur had stood by the window, gazing at the sleeping town of Willowbrook. The streetlamps shimmered in the puddles, painting the illusion of another world—calm, orderly. But inside his home, silence reigned, thick with dread and grief.
Arthur had always tried to live rightly. Work, family, home—all built like a fortress. Yet life had shattered his plans time and again. Three years ago, he’d first discovered his wife’s infidelity. Margaret had sworn it would never happen again, and for the sake of their children—eight-year-old Oliver and four-year-old Emily—he forgave her. Not out of naivety, but because he needed to believe. Family was sacred to him, and he would fight for it to the end.
Now the pain returned like an old foe. The same wound, the same blow. Arthur didn’t know what to do. Throw Margaret out? Leave himself? How could he explain to the children why their mother was gone? He knew divorce shattered even adults—what would it do to little ones whose world was Mum and Dad?
He couldn’t let emotion rule him. He had to think of the future, of shielding the children. Arthur resolved to speak with her. He invited Margaret to a small pub on the outskirts of Willowbrook, where they’d once shared wine and laughter in better days. Away from the children and daily burdens, he hoped to find the truth.
“Margaret, I can’t keep silent anymore,” he began, meeting her eyes. “Why? Why did you do this again?”
She lowered her head. She’d known this talk would come, but the words burned her throat.
“Arthur, I never meant to,” she whispered. “Sometimes I feel I’ve lost myself. This life—children, home, duty—it’s all important, but I… I don’t know who I am anymore. I need to find out.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur frowned. “You’re a mother, a wife. You chose this. 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 whatever it takes to make you happy. Let’s start over.”
They agreed to try. That evening, they returned home almost hopeful. The children slept, and as their parents watched them, tenderness swelled—a reminder that these little hearts were worth fighting for. Arthur went to bed believing all was not lost.
—
But by morning, the house was empty. Margaret was gone. His phone held another recording—her voice, raw with anguish. Arthur called, but her number was dead. Standing in the silent room, phone gripped tight, he felt the world collapse around him. The recording played in his head like a verdict, and the hollowness of the house screamed louder than words ever could.
What now? How could he explain to Oliver and Emily that their mother had left? How could he live when his heart was torn between love and betrayal? Arthur had no answers, but he knew one thing: for his son and daughter, he would find the strength. Even if it meant starting anew—without her.
