**The Shadow of Yesterday in an Empty House**
One damp evening in the quiet town of Pinebridge, where streetlamps cast dull reflections on the wet pavement, Oliver sat alone in his flat, clutching his phone. The recording his wife had sent echoed in his mind like a shattered life laid bare:
*”Oliver, please keep this for the children. Tell them I love them. That I’ll always love them. My darlings, my family… It hurts so much right now—unbearably so. I feel like the loneliest woman in the world. No one knows what’s happening in my soul, no one sees the fear or the emptiness gnawing at me. My heart is breaking, but I hold it all inside so you, my loves, won’t see my despair. Every morning I wake with a stone in my chest, and every night the weight grows heavier. I keep asking myself how to find joy again, how to be who I once was. But every day brings new trials, and I can’t see a way out. Why do I betray you, Oliver? That question haunts me. I search for answers in books, conversations, even prayer, but nothing eases it. I’m drowning in doubt. You deserve better, Oliver. You’ve been a wonderful husband and father—you gave us everything. But I can’t be the wife you want. There’s a hollowness in me no words can fill. My children, you’re my whole world. I love you with all my heart, but it doesn’t dull this pain. Every glance you give me, every word, reminds me how undeserving I am as your mother. Sometimes I think I should just leave. Let your father find someone who can love him as he deserves. Let you grow up without lies. But the thought of losing you terrifies me. What do I do? Where do I turn? I’d give anything to find peace again. I hope you’ll understand. Goodbye.”*
—
Just yesterday, Oliver had stood by the window, watching Pinebridge asleep under the rain. The lamplight shimmered in puddles, painting an illusion of a calmer world. Inside, silence hung thick with grief.
Oliver had always done things right—work, family, home—all built like a fortress. Yet life kept tearing his plans apart. Three years ago, he’d learned of his wife Emily’s infidelity. Crushed, he’d forgiven her for their children: eight-year-old William and four-year-old Charlotte. Emily swore it wouldn’t happen again, and he believed her—not out of naivety, but because family was sacred to him. He’d fight for it to the end.
Now the pain was back, an old wound freshly split. Should he send Emily away? Leave himself? How could he explain to the children why Mummy was gone? Divorce broke even grown adults; what would it do to little hearts where home meant Mum and Dad?
He wouldn’t let emotion rule. He had to think ahead—how to salvage the family or at least spare the children. He asked Emily to meet at a small pub on Pinebridge’s outskirts, where they’d once laughed over wine in better days. Away from toys and chores, he hoped to find the truth.
*”Emily, I can’t stay silent,”* he began, meeting her eyes. *”Why? Why do this again?”*
She looked down. She’d known this talk would come, but the words burned.
*”Oliver, I didn’t mean to—sometimes I feel lost. Like I’m living someone else’s life. The children, the house, it all matters, but I… I don’t know who I am anymore. I need to find out.”*
*”What d’you mean?”* Oliver frowned. *”You’re a mother, a wife—you chose this. What’s changed?”*
*”I have!”* Her voice wavered. *”And you don’t see it.”*
*”Let’s try again,”* he pleaded. *”For the children. I’ll do anything to make you happy—just try.”*
They agreed to start anew. That night, they returned home almost hopeful. The children slept, and as they watched them, Oliver felt it: for those little hearts, they had to fight. He went to bed thinking there was still a chance.
—
But by morning, the house was empty. Emily was gone. His phone held one last recording—her voice, raw with sorrow. He called, but the line was dead. Standing in the silent flat, he felt the world collapse around him. Her words rang like a verdict; the quiet screamed louder than any shout.
What now? How could he tell William and Charlotte Mummy wasn’t coming back? How to live with a heart torn between love and betrayal? Oliver didn’t have answers, but he knew this: for his children, he’d find the strength. Even if it meant starting over—without her.
**Lesson:** Some griefs carve paths we’d never choose to walk. But for love, we learn to walk them anyway.
