“I’ve got another woman, younger and sweeter,” the man declared. “Already filed for divorce…”
The suitcase with his things had sat by the door for days. One evening, returning from work, Emily noticed her husband darting between rooms, stuffing clothes into another bag. The night before, theyd quarrelled again, and she had demanded he be gone before she got home.
She was tiredtired of his endless job searches that always led nowhere.
“Em, just lend me a bit of cashI swear Ill land something tomorrow,” hed repeat, like a broken record. But hed slink back well past midnight, reeking of whiskey and strange perfumes.
Tom was eight years younger than Emily, yet somehow hed slipped into her heart, pushing out the man whod lived there before. Hed even convinced her to marry him at the registry office. Deep down, shed known it wouldnt last, but loneliness had gnawed at her, and the one shed truly waited for had vanished years ago, back in their school days.
Finding him still in the flat that evening, Emily told him she was filing for divorce and gave him five minutes to leave.
Tom glared at her and hissed, “Fine. Divorce it is.” He bolted to the bedroom, flung the rest of his things into the bag, and rushed into the hallwayonly to stop short when his phone rang.
His voice rose in agitation. Then, flustered, he grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack, shrugged it on mid-stride, and vanished down the stairsleaving the bag behind.
Emily stared at it. Hed done this on purpose, she thought. Left it as an excuse to return, to beg forgiveness again. But not this time. Her patience had run dry.
Yet days passed, and he didnt come back.
Unable to bear the sight of that garish reminder of wasted time, she finally called him. “Come get your things. Now.”
“Dont need that rubbish,” he snapped. “My new girl wont let me near your doorstep. And Ive already filed for divorce myself, so dont fret. Im marrying hershes carrying my child. Understood? Did you really think I needed you? You paid my waythanks for that. But Ive got someone younger, sweeter now. Toss the lot if you want. Or give it to some other poor sod willing to shack up with you for your money. And dont call again. Ever!”
Each word stung like a slap. Shed known better than to tie herself to a man so much younger, but shed fallen for his sweet talk, his vows.
Seething, she grabbed the bag, threw on her coat, and marched into the courtyard. With a furious heave, she launched it into the bin.
Enough. Wiping her tears, she returned home, showered, and put on a comedy.
“Better,” she murmured aloud. From now on, shed live for herself. The past could stay where it belonged.
Days later, Emily prepared for a company galaher first as owner. Shed ordered a speech, collected her new tailored dress from the seamstress, and opened her jewellery box to select pieces for the evening.
Her heart lurched.
The box was empty. Even her passport, tucked inside weeks ago, was gone.
She staggered to the kitchen, gulped down two glasses of water, and dialed Toms number. He hung up. When she tried again, his phone was dead.
Without hesitation, she reported the theft to the police, certain who the thief was.
Days later, they summoned her to the station. There sat Tom, shrugging as he confessed. Yes, hed emptied the box into his bagwanted to “teach her a lesson” for nagging about his unemployment. Hed left the suitcase behind when his mistress called, announcing her pregnancy.
Emily raced to the bins. Too late. The lorries had come and gone.
Desperate, she phoned the waste disposal service and got the landfills address. The operator warned herhomeless folk picked through the rubbish the moment it arrived. “If it was valuable, love, its long gone.”
Her heart sank. That bag wouldnt have been overlooked.
She considered tracking down the rough sleepers, offering a rewardjust for her passport, her heirlooms. As she sat brooding by the window, the doorbell rang.
Her young neighbour stood there, holding the very same suitcase.
“Afternoon, Miss Emily! A bloke asked me to give you this!” he chirped.
“Who?” she whispered.
“Some homeless chap,” the boy said, shrugging before darting off.
Trembling, she carried the bag inside and dumped its contents onto the floor. Amidst Toms crumpled shirts lay every missing treasureher jewellery, her passport. All untouched.
Relief flooded her. She made hot cocoa and curled up by the window, wondering how to thank the stranger whod returned it all without taking a thing.
The next day, she asked the boy where to find him. “Lives near the old uni, in a shack,” he said.
Emily didnt hesitate. She stood outside the ramshackle door for a long moment before knocking.
It opened at once. A man in worn but clean clothes stood there. His home, though sparse, was tidya cot with a faded quilt, a table covered in oilcloth, a stove humming softly in the corner.
“Tea?” he rasped.
She almost refusedthen nodded.
He poured strong brew into clean cups, set out biscuits, and watched her carefully.
She studied his face. “You… look familiar.”
His eyes held hers. “We went to school together, Emily.”
Her breath caught. “James?”
He nodded. “Still recognise me?”
She nearly spilled her tea. “James… I waited years for you.”
“Circumstances kept me away. But I never forgot you.”
She reached for his hand. “Come home with me.”
That night, in her flat, Jamesclean-shaven, hair still damp from the showertold his story between her quiet tears.
“How did you endure it all?” she asked.
“Because it led me back to you.”
They talked until dawn, their lives stitching together again.
Months later, Emilys divorce was final. James sorted his papers, found work. They married quietly at the registry officejust as they should have, years ago.
And when their son was born the following year, he was lovedlong awaited by both.