Traffic Jam
The cars were completely gridlocked, packed in tight rows. No movement in either direction for the past half hour. Everyone had their windows rolled up, air conditioning blasting. Outside, the heat was unbearable—over 30 degrees, just like the Met Office had warned on the radio.
The air above the sun-baked tarmac shimmered like a mirage. Inside the Ford, it was cool, but sitting there, staring at the frozen scene outside, was getting exhausting.
Laura unscrewed the cap of her plastic water bottle and took a few sips. Daniel noticed there was barely a third left. She kept drinking without offering him any. Not that he would’ve taken it—he’d have given her the last drop—but it was like she didn’t even remember he was there.
“How long is this going to last?” Laura snapped.
Those were her first words since they’d left the countryside cottage. Her silence was worse than shouting. At least shouting would’ve been something. They didn’t argue much, but when they did, Laura would shut down for hours, sometimes days, making it painfully clear Daniel was in the wrong. He’d apologise, listen to her monotone lecture, and eventually, they’d make up.
“Why are you just sitting there? Do something,” Laura lashed out again, as if the standstill on the M25 was somehow his fault.
This time, he stayed quiet. What could he even say?
“And why did we even go to that stupid cottage? Fine for you, but me? Just so I could sit on the other side of the fence while you fawn over your daughter? I could’ve been shopping. Or out with Nina, having ice cream.” She sniffled.
“Great, now my nose is blocked. Like I needed to catch a cold from this bloody AC,” she complained.
Daniel turned the air con off.
“Are you joking? The car’s going to be an oven in minutes. Do you want us to suffocate?” Laura glared at him.
He didn’t remember her ever talking this much. It unsettled him. But he said nothing and turned the AC back on.
A man was weaving between the cars ahead. He didn’t reach Daniel’s Ford—just climbed into a car a few rows over.
“Did you see that? He came from up ahead. Maybe he knows what’s going on,” Laura said.
“Maybe,” Daniel agreed.
“Well? Go ask,” she muttered, not looking at him.
“Ask what? This jam could stretch for miles. You think he walked the whole thing in half an hour? Doubt it.” Daniel glanced at her and immediately felt guilty again.
“Come on, we can’t sit here forever. It’ll clear eventually. Everyone else is just waiting. This is the M25, not some backroad. Half of London’s stuck here.” He trailed off. Laura stayed silent, staring ahead.
“Fine.” Daniel got out of the car.
Looking back, the rows of cars stretched endlessly, just like ahead. The man had climbed into a red Nissan. Daniel tapped on the window, and it rolled halfway down.
“Sorry—you went up ahead? Any idea what’s happening?”
“Feels like the whole M25’s stuck. No one knows. Maybe an accident or a terror threat.”
Nothing new. Daniel had figured as much. The heat outside was suffocating, like a sauna. His shirt was already clinging to his back with sweat by the time he got back to the car. The radio was playing news—nothing about the jam.
“Well? Any luck?” Laura demanded.
“Nothing. The whole motorway’s at a standstill. Someone mentioned a terror threat.”
“I knew it. Why did I even listen to you and come along?” Laura groaned.
Daniel agreed silently. He shouldn’t have talked her into this. He’d have stayed at the cottage with his daughter, left in the cooler evening. The jam would’ve cleared by then.
And it had all started so well…
***
Daniel’s phone buzzed him awake. Half-asleep, he answered without checking the screen.
“Dad, are you coming?” Emily’s voice.
“Hello? You forgot your daughter’s birthday, didn’t you?” His ex-wife now. “Bet you haven’t even got a present yet.” The accusation was clear.
“No, I didn’t forget—I’m on my way, just leaving now,” he lied, blinking at the sunlight. It was already half nine.
He had remembered until last night. But then he and Laura had gone out with his mates, had a few too many, and it slipped his mind.
“Dad, I don’t need a present, just come! I miss you!” Emily shouted in the background before the line went dead.
They’d married thirteen years ago. Ten of those were spent fighting like cats and dogs. He hadn’t been in love—just a uni lad who woke up next to a vaguely familiar girl after a party. A month later, she tracked him down and said she was pregnant. “She’s alright,” he’d thought, and agreed to marry her. His parents were horrified, begged him to reconsider. His mum even doubted the baby was his.
He did a test—after Emily was born. No question, she was his. The moment he held her in the hospital, he fell in love. Never knew that was possible. That’s why he put up with the rows, the jealousy. Might’ve stayed forever if he hadn’t met Laura.
Cold, confident, stunning like a goddess, she didn’t scream like his ex. She punished him with silence. That was her only flaw. She’d strut around the flat in tiny shorts, teasing him. He’d apologise even when he wasn’t wrong.
Sometimes he couldn’t believe she was with him.
After Emily’s call, Laura asked what was wrong. He admitted he’d forgotten his daughter’s birthday—that he’d promised to visit their country cottage.
“You’re leaving? Now? So I’m just stuck here alone all day?” Laura pouted, standing up—naked—and heading to the bathroom. The sight short-circuited his brain. He followed.
“Come with me.” He looked at her hopefully.
“You’re inviting me to your ex’s cottage?”
“Yeah. So what? We’re divorced.” He braced for refusal. “It’s lovely—river, woods, we could swim…”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Just hurry up.”
They bought Emily a present and drove to the cottage. Just as he expected, Laura chickened out at the last second, waiting in the car.
Emily threw her arms around him, and Daniel realised how much he’d missed her. The afternoon flew by. When he said he had to leave, Emily clung to him, crying.
His ex stood nearby, hearing him make flimsy excuses about traffic, work tomorrow…
“Dad has to go. Someone’s waiting in the car. Too scared to come in, was she?” His ex smirked.
Daniel didn’t even look at her.
“I’ll come next Sunday,” he promised Emily, peeling her arms away. His heart broke—love for her, guilt over Laura waiting outside.
It felt like minutes, but he’d spent forty with Emily. Laura gave him a sharp look when he got back but said nothing. As he drove off, he glanced back. Through the fence, he saw his ex and Emily. He swore his ex was smirking, though he couldn’t be sure.
He apologised to Laura the whole drive. He couldn’t just leave—Emily was crying… Laura stayed silent, even when they hit the jam.
Stuck. Why had he dragged her into this?
***
“Why did you talk me into coming?” Laura asked again.
“I thought—how was I supposed to know we’d hit a jam?” he finally snapped. “I’m not bloody Mystic Meg.”
Laura blinked, startled by his outburst.
“Don’t shout at me,” she hissed.
“Sorry. Let’s just wait it out.”
“No.”
“No?” He looked at her, unnerved by her calm.
“You still don’t get it. I don’t love you. Haven’t for ages. I can’t do this anymore. You can’t make a single decision.”
She got out, turning to face him, one hand on the door. She didn’t see the cars behind her lurch forward.
“I don’t love you!” she repeated, stepping back—
“Laura, wait—” Daniel yelled, too late.
A van was speeding up. She disappeared under its wheels.
Then their row of cars started moving. Drivers honked, desperate to get home after the standstill.
Laura lay unconscious, though there were no visible injuries.
“Not my fault—you saw, she just—” the van driver stammered.
“Help me get her in the car,” Daniel said.
No telling when an ambulance would arrive. Daniel drove her to the nearest hospital himself. The van driver followed.
A young doctor checked her, confirmed no broken bones, and asked Daniel to come back tomorrow.
The next day, he brought flowers and fruit.
Inside the ward, the same doctor was holding Laura’s hand. She smiled at him. Daniel left the giftsHe walked away, finally free, and for the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter.
