The snowflakes drift gently towards her. After twenty years of marriage, many couples face strained moments, and Kate and Robert are no exception.
“Two decades with Rob, we’ve been through so much, raised our son Oliver, who’s now at university. I should call him, see how he’s getting on—wanted his independence, and there he is in student halls. Never complains,” Kate muses, curled up in an armchair, wrapped in a thick throw.
Oliver, stubborn like her, has always been easy to understand—a mirror of herself. They’d once considered a second child, but life’s challenges made her grateful they hadn’t.
She and Robert met at university, married in their third year, and she had Oliver in their fourth. Her mother’s help spared her an academic break, and somehow, they graduated together.
Money was tight at first, but slowly, as they say, *”it all melted away like frost in the morning sun.”*
Robert hustled his way into a prestigious firm, climbing steadily to become deputy CEO. Kate, content as a manager elsewhere, never chased the same heights.
“I could get you a job here,” Robert once said, “but I don’t want us working together. Look at Liam—his wife’s always accusing him of flirting with the cleaner.”
“I get it, Rob. Work’s work, home’s home,” Kate agreed, and he appreciated her pragmatism.
Robert was a serious man—hardly one to chase women. Though, like any man, he noticed beauty, maybe even entertained *thoughts*. But he stayed faithful—flirting at most. Some women just couldn’t resist.
Kate, though, often let jealousy win, erupting into arguments. Now, snow falls outside as she stares at her phone, his familiar, stubbled smile lighting up the screen.
The flat is silent, his grin still mocking her. *”He smiles, but it hurts. Why hasn’t he called? I’ve felt so alone, all because I couldn’t swallow my pride when he suggested time apart. I could’ve fixed this.”*
Six months ago, Robert announced: “Office party for the company’s anniversary. Boss insists everyone brings their spouse.”
“Oh, Rob! I need a new dress. I want to look stunning.”
“Of course. When shall we go?”
“Let’s hit the shops this weekend,” she decided.
The dress was exquisite—elegant, striking. Robert nearly gaped when she paired it with new heels.
“Bloody hell, Kate, you’re gorgeous!”
“Took you long enough to notice,” she laughed, tossing her head.
Now, remembering that night, Kate’s stomach twists. Robert, charming as ever, danced with colleagues—especially Sarah from Accounts, in her figure-hugging red dress, whispering in his ear, both laughing.
Liam, divorced and alone, kept Kate company, though Robert did ask her to dance. She nodded along, pretending to enjoy Liam’s endless Thailand stories, all while her heart clawed at her ribs.
Back home, Robert noted her mood but stayed quiet, waiting for the storm.
After removing her makeup, Kate finally spoke. “I hated how you acted tonight. Leaving me with Liam all evening—do you think I care about his holiday rambles?”
“So I should’ve clung to you all night? The women asked *me* to dance—you saw that.”
“Yes,” she snapped, unable to stop. “Better that than ignoring me for Sarah.”
“Kate,” Robert sighed, sinking into a chair, “I’m exhausted by your jealousy. The accusations, the scenes—it’s suffocating.”
“Better paranoid than a philanderer.”
“Right. Then we need space.”
Tears burned, but pride locked them away. She couldn’t admit she feared losing him.
“Fine,” she said.
Outside, thunder growled, lightning splitting the sky.
The next day, Robert left with a bag. Kate ached.
Alone at night, she wondered: *”Should I have told him I loved him more? Trusted him more? Deep down, I never believed he’d cheat. And I never should’ve agreed to this. It’s not a break—it’s the beginning of the end.”*
The realisation came too late. She hadn’t even glanced at another man.
Now, snow blankets the city, softening edges. Her phone buzzes—Mum calling.
“Sweetheart, how are you?”
“Fine,” Kate lies.
“Your father and I expect you and Rob for New Year’s—Oliver too. No excuses!”
She loves their tradition—her parents’ cottage at the foot of the hills, skiing, tea by the fire on Dad’s old bearskin rug, classic films, and Mum’s pies.
Hanging up, guilt gnaws. They don’t know Robert moved out.
*”Should I call him?”*
Finally, she dials.
“Hi, Rob.”
“Hi,” he answers warmly, and her heart leaps.
“Mum invited us for New Year’s. I didn’t tell her.”
“I’ll go,” he says slowly. “But… what do we say about *us*?”
“Nothing. I won’t ruin their holiday. Pretend you still love me?” Her voice wavers.
“Alright.”
“We’ll meet in two days—gifts to buy.”
“I’ll help,” he offers.
Her heart pounds—she hasn’t seen him since he left.
When they meet, their eyes linger, smiles tentative.
“How’ve you been?” Robert asks.
“How do you think?”
They shop for her parents, sister, and Oliver. Laughing, chatting, Kate feels joy for the first time in months.
He drops her home, unloading bags.
“Thanks for the lift.”
“Anytime.” His gaze holds something she can’t place.
“Fancy a cuppa?”
“God, yes,” he breathes, pulling her into an embrace. “More than anything.”
She looks up, snowflakes meeting the sky. For the first time in forever, she’s happy—and so is he. The rest can wait.
