With a pounding heart, Emily knocked on the door. Silence answered. Hesitantly, she fished the key from her handbag and turned the lock. Good Lord, how long had it been since she’d last stepped inside? Everything was just as she’d left it—untouched, frozen in time—yet the once-familiar home now felt cold and unwelcoming.

Nearly a year had passed since the falling-out with James. They’d quarreled before, of course. Emily would snatch up little Sophie, tears streaming, and flee to her mum’s. More often than not, James—lonely and remorseful—would come chasing after her by the next day. Life would right itself, the peace offering adding a strange sweetness to their bond. But this last time… this time was different.

Shaking off the memories, Emily marched to the wardrobe, determined to find the papers she needed. There they were, untouched, neatly filed away in the folder she’d prepared herself. For two months now, a man who’d long fancied her had been persistent in his courtship. Nothing had happened between them, but just a week ago, he’d formally proposed.

And all week, Emily hadn’t slept a wink. Something weighed on her, leaving her unable to decide.

At first, she’d expected the rift with James to mend. Any moment, he’d knock, pierce her soul with that intense gaze, and murmur, *”God, I’ve missed you.”*

But days bled into months, and nothing changed. Their encounters grew fleeting—James more distant, colder, as though a chasm had opened between them. He only came for Sophie, silently taking their daughter’s hand and whisking her away. Then, just as silently, he’d bring her back. Sophie would chatter excitedly, twirling in new dresses or shoes, bragging about Daddy’s gifts. Meanwhile, Emily’s heart ached, remembering how James’s eyes had once sparkled when he brought presents for *her*. Now? Now he barely glanced her way. Their shared space became unbearable, and she’d hurry off to her room. Even her mum, never James’s biggest fan, often said, *”What’s meant to be will be.”* Slowly, Emily had started to believe it.

Drawing a deep breath, she cast a final glance around the room—then startled. James lay asleep on the sofa. Back from shift, most likely. Her first instinct was to flee, but something pulled her back. Every line of his face was painfully familiar—now roughened by stubble, shadows bruising his eyes. She sank down beside him. What did she even know of this man she’d spent years beside? What thoughts lurked behind that furrowed brow?

Suddenly, a half-forgotten memory flashed before her—young James, that boyish devotion in his eyes, his smile so bright it could light up the world. She’d always thought that was what she’d fallen for—that grin that had turned her soul inside out. Was this weary, grim man really the same person? It hadn’t even been that long. The memory of that smile returned, vivid, almost accusing…

*God, where had it all gone?* Helplessly, she glanced around, as though searching for someone to blame for her shattered life. Her chest ached, her pulse fluttering under the weight of bitter recollections. Their once-cosy, storybook world had slowly filled with petty grievances, tears, and unspoken misunderstandings. James, forever exhausted, working three jobs just to keep her and Sophie comfortable, refusing to rely on anyone… She’d had time to think, to see where *she* had failed—where she’d lacked patience, grace, wisdom…

But they *had* been happy once. That wasn’t just some fever-dream. Abruptly, Emily stood, desperate to prove it to herself. Her gaze landed on James’s hand—resting atop their… wedding album. A photograph of them, radiant, dizzy with joy.

Her fingers trembled, and the pictures spilled to the floor with a whisper. She froze.

James was awake. Watching her.

*”Em… you came back?”* His eyes shone—bright, hopeful—and the thought that she might’ve left forever made her chest tighten unbearably.