With a trembling heart, Emily knocked on the door. Silence answered her. Hesitantly, she fished the key from her handbag and turned it in the lock. Good Lord, how long had it been since she’d last stepped inside? Everything remained just as it was—unchanged in this once-beloved home—yet now it felt cold and unfamiliar.

Nearly a year had passed since the falling-out with James. They’d quarreled before, of course. Emily would snatch up little Sophie, tears streaking her cheeks, and flee to her mother’s house. More often than not, James, aching with loneliness, would come chasing after her the very next day. Life would right itself again; their reconciliations even added a strange spark to their marriage. But this last time… this last time was different.

Shaking off the memories, Emily strode purposefully toward the cabinet to retrieve the documents she needed. The papers lay untouched, neatly filed away in a folder by her own hand. For two months now, a man—long smitten with her—had been persistent in his courting. Nothing had happened between them yet, but a week ago, he’d formally proposed.

And for seven sleepless nights, Emily had wrestled with indecision, something heavy gnawing at her.

At first, she’d believed the rift with James would mend itself. He’d knock on the door, pierce her soul with that intense gaze of his, and murmur, *”Christ, I’ve missed you.”*

But the days dragged into months, and nothing changed. Their encounters were fleeting—James growing colder, more distant, an unbridgeable chasm widening between them. He came only for Sophie, silently taking their daughter’s hand and leading her away. Later, he’d return her just as wordlessly. Sophie would prattle excitedly, twirling in a new dress or shoes, boasting of Daddy’s gifts. Meanwhile, Emily would ache, remembering how James’s eyes had once sparkled when he brought presents for *her*. Now… now he scarcely looked at her. Their rare moments alone were stiff, unbearable, sending her retreating to her room. Her mother, who’d never warmed to James, often said, *”What God takes, He takes for the best.”* Gradually, Emily had come to believe it.

Drawing a shaky breath, she cast a final glance around the room—then froze. James lay asleep on the sofa, clearly just home from his shift. Her first instinct was to flee, but something pulled her back. Every line of his face was painfully familiar—roughened with stubble, shadows bruising his eyes. She sank down beside him. What did she truly know of this man she’d shared her life with? What thoughts lurked beneath that furrowed brow? Suddenly, the half-forgotten face of a younger James flickered in her mind—his boyish loyalty, that radiant, sunlit grin. She’d always believed it was *that* smile that had turned her world upside down.

Was that bright-eyed boy and this weary, hardened man really the same person? And yet, so little time had passed. The memory of his smile burned so vividly it felt like a rebuke.

*God, where had it all gone?* She glanced around helplessly, as though searching for someone to blame for the ruins of her life. Her chest ached, her heart thrashing against the weight of despair. Their once-cosy fairytale world had slowly filled with petty grievances, tears, echoing loneliness. James—always exhausted, juggling three jobs just to keep them afloat, too proud to ask for help—while she… She’d had time to think, to realize she’d lacked patience, grace, the quiet strength to endure.

But they *had* been happy once. It wasn’t just her imagination. Surging to her feet, Emily needed to prove it to herself. Her gaze landed on James’s hand resting atop… their wedding album. A photo of them, dazzlingly in love, stared back.

Her fingers trembled; the pictures spilled to the floor with a whisper. She turned—then stilled.

James was watching her.

“Em… you came back?” His eyes burned with hope, and the thought that she might have left for good crushed her.