A Longing for Freedom
“Mum, someones at the doorcould you get it? My hands are full,” called the voice from the kitchen.
“Of course,” Natalie answered, smiling faintly to herself.
She opened the door without checking the peephole. On Christmas Eve, it was always children caroling, so she expected another bright-eyed boy or girl on the doorstep.
But when she swung the door wide, she froze. There stood David, her ex-husband, staring at her with the pitiful eyes of a kicked dog. At his feet was a duffel bagprobably stuffed with his things.
“Natalie,” she managed, voice hoarse, “what are you doing here?”
David gave her an overly cheerful grin, then ducked his head, staring at his shoes. “Hello, love. I missed you. Thought Id spend the holidays with my family.”
He moved to step inside, but she raised a hand, stopping him. “David, I didnt invite you in.”
“Here we go. Natalie, Im back! Isnt this what you wanted?” He spread his arms wide, as if expecting celebration.
“Back? Just like that? What about the last year and a halfdid you forget all of it?”
David scowled, and Natalie remembered the way her heart had shatteredinto jagged, irreparable pieces.
…Fifteen years ago, theyd married. A young couple in a rented flat, happy as could be. Both working, money never an issue. A year later, twinsOliver and Ethanbundles of energy who wore her out but filled her days with laughter.
Thirteen years slipped by unnoticed. The boys grew tall, nearly her height, but still her little rascals. David, thoughhe changed. More late nights, more business trips. She chalked it up to work stress.
Then, one day, in the supermarket, she saw him. He was supposed to be in Birmingham. A young woman kissed his cheek and dropped something into his basket. Natalie held her breath, watching from behind a display. David draped an arm around the womans waist, whispered in her ear. She laughed, tilting her head back, clinging to him. Then they paidwith *his* cardand drove off in *his* car.
Natalie stood, numb, as her life crumbled.
She called him later, voice steady. “Hello, love. How was the trip?”
“Ah, Nat, hi. Busy. Swamped with workIll call you back.”
She waited a week. No call.
The day before he was due home, she sent the boys to her mothers. When David walked in, she sat at the kitchen table.
“No welcome home?” he joked, voice light.
“Who is she, David?”
He stiffened. “Who?”
“I saw you at Tesco last week. Who is she?”
He slumped into a chair. “Jessica. A colleague.”
“How long?”
“A year. But Nat, you have to understandhomes chaos. The kids, the noise. No room for me. You never see *me*. Jessicashe *gets* me. She doesnt demand things.”
“And what have I demanded? The impossible?”
“Wash this, fix thatIm *tired* of chores! Im in my prime, Natalie! I need someone who *appreciates* me. Youre justa mum now. I dont love you anymore.”
The words hung between them.
“Fine. Youre bored with me. What about the boys?”
“Loads of families split. Ill pay child support, see them weekends. But I need *freedom*, Nat. I need air.”
She begged. “Dont go. For *them*.”
“Im *done*.”
And just like that, he packed a bag and left.
…Now, seeing him on her doorstep with that same duffel, Natalie almost laughed. He had no idea what the last eighteen months had been likethe boys crying, calling, unanswered. His “child support” a joke, his salary mysteriously halved on paper. Shed taken extra shifts, made it work.
“You said we were dull,” she reminded him.
He brightened, stepping forward. “I was *wrong*, darling. Forgive me.” He reached for her hand; she pulled away. “You were my rock. Jessicait was nothing. A fling.”
Footsteps. Oliver peered into the hall. “Whos here, Mum?”
Then Ethan. “Dad?”
“Boys! Im back! Brought presentslets celebrate!” He moved to enter, but a firm hand gripped his shoulder.
“Maybe next time,” Natalie said sweetly. “Christmas is for *family*, isnt it, boys?”
Behind her stood Charlestall, steady. The boys rushed to hug *him*, not David.
“Stay?” Charles murmured.
She shook her head, smiling.
David finally found his voice. “So *this* is it? You replaced me with some brute?”
“Not replaced. *Chose* himwhen I was free. No ring on my finger then.” She waved her left handthe gold band gleaming.
His face twisted. “You *begged* me to come back!”
“Eighteen months ago, David. My lifes different now. Merry Christmas.”
She shut the door, locked it, exhaled. Then she turned toward the warmth of the flatwhere her sons and the man who *chose* them waited.
