The air in the hallway was thick with unspoken words as Eleanor Whitmore removed the wedding photo from the wall.
“Emily, darling, could you help your old gran find my keys? Ive turned the place upside down!” Margarets voice trembled with agitation.
Emily glanced up from her phone, watching her grandmother fumble by the doorframe. The older woman stood in the corridor, fingers gripping the wood, her eyes searching.
“Gran, theyre right therein your hand!” Emily laughed.
“Oh, goodness me! My minds gone to pot,” Margaret chuckled, though the sound was strained. “Emily, wheres your mother?”
“She took little Jack to nursery. Said shed be back soon.” The girl returned to her screen.
Margaret nodded absently, drifting into the sitting room. She paused before the wall of framed memories, her gaze settling on oneOlivia in a white dress, radiant, beside William in his crisp suit. Their wedding portrait, hung there for eight years.
Her fingers brushed the frame before she lifted it from the wall. She turned it over in her hands, sighed, and carried it to her room.
“Gran, whyd you take the photo down?” Emily called after her.
“Just dusting, love. Its filthy.” But her voice wavered.
Alone on her bed, Margaret laid the picture across her lap. How beautiful Olivia had been that day. William, so young, so in love. And now now everything was different.
The front door clickedOlivia was home. Margaret shoved the frame into her dresser drawer and hurried to the kitchen.
“Margaret, how are you? Jacks been an absolute terror this morning,” Olivia said, shrugging off her coat. “Wheres our wedding photo? It was just here.”
“What photo?” Margaret feigned innocence, filling the kettle.
“Ours. The one in the sitting room. Did you take it?”
Margaret set the kettle on the hob and turned. Olivia stood stiff, arms crossed.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because, Olivia dear, its time you faced the truth. Youre not his wife anymore.”
Olivia paled, sinking onto a stool.
“What on earth are you saying?”
“Eight years, Olivia. Eight! And you still cling to that wedding day. The dress hangs in your cupboardI saw it yesterday when I put the laundry away. You polish that photo like its holy. But life moves on, dear.”
Olivias hands clenched.
“I dont understand what youre getting at.”
“William rang this morning. Early, while you were asleep. Said we needed to talk. All of us.”
“Talk about what?” Olivias voice was barely a whisper.
Margaret took her hands. “Olivia, I love you like my own. You know that. Emily thinks of you as her mum. Jack adores you. But William hes only thirty-two. Do you truly believe hell stay alone forever?”
Olivia wrenched her hands free.
“Were married! We have children! What do you mean, not his wife?”
“Married on paper, strangers in practice. When was the last time he came homenot to see the children, but to you? A month ago? Two?”
“He works so much. Always travelling”
“Oh, Olivia.” Margaret shook her head. “He works, yes. But not where you think. I saw him last week near that new shopping centre. With a womanyoung, pretty. Arm in arm, laughing. When he spotted me, he went scarlet, stammered something about a colleague. But a mans eyes dont lie, dear. Not when hes in love.”
Olivia moved to the window. Rain tapped against the glass, the sky heavy over the rooftops.
“So youre saying I should just step aside? Let him go?”
“Im saying you must ask yourselfare you happy? Truly? Do you want to live like this forever?”
“And the children? Emily starts school next year. Jacks still so little. How do I explain their fathers gone?”
“How do you explain him sleeping in the guest room? Visiting once a month? The silence between you?”
Margaret put an arm around her.
“Emily already knows. Yesterday she asked why you and William dont hug like her friend Sophies parents. What should I have told her? That its all a game?”
Olivia pressed her palms to her face.
“I dont know what to do.”
“Love, dear, is either there or it isnt. You cant pretend it. You and William are good peoplejust not for each other. These things happen.”
Four-year-old Jack burst in, cheeks flushed, hair wild.
“Mum, Mum! Gran Maggie said Dads coming today! Is it true? Is he?” He tugged at her sleeve.
“Yes, darling. Hes coming.” She scooped him up.
“Will he stay? Forever?”
Olivia looked at Margaret, who turned away.
“I dont know, Jack. Hell tell us.”
The boy wriggled free, dashing off to share the news with his sister.
“See?” Margaret murmured. “Children live on hope. And hope that never comes hurts worse than the truth.”
Olivia sat heavily at the table. Eight years ago, shed been certain of their happiness.
“Remember how he courted me? Flowers every day, poetry. Said he couldnt live without me.”
“Oh, I remember. He worshipped you.”
“What changed? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, dear. Life isnt a fairy tale. William married a bright, laughing girl. Now he shares a home with a tired woman, bills, and nappies. You were both so young.”
“Then its too late?”
Margaret poured the tea. “Do you even want him back? Truly?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then why havent you called him in three months? Why no kisses when he visits? Why just shopping lists and complaints?”
Olivia met her gazenot accusation there, but sorrow.
“Im afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That if I try and he still leaves, itll hurt more.”
“Nonsense! Hes your husband. If you wont fight for him, who will?”
Emily appeared in the doorway, far too wise for her years.
“Mum, is Dad really leaving us?”
Olivia and Margaret exchanged glances.
“Where did you hear that, love?”
“Im not deaf! I hear you arguing. Hear him tossing in the spare room. Jack cried last night, said Dad doesnt love him.”
Olivia pulled her close. “Emily, your father adores you both. But grown-ups sometimes we struggle.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
“I dont know yet.”
“And if you dodo we live with you or Dad?”
“With me, of course! But well decide together.”
Emily nodded solemnly. “Okay. Can I tell Jack? He keeps asking when Dads moving back.”
As the girl left, Olivia exhaled.
“So grown-up. And Jack feels it too.”
“Children always do. They need honestynot a performance.”
Olivia stared into her tea. “What if I try to be who I was? Could we fix this?”
“Start with yourself, dear. When was your last haircut?”
Olivia touched her frayed ends. “Months ago.”
“Go today. Wear something nice. Show William the woman he fell for.”
That evening, Olivia looked transformedhair styled, a dress from the back of her wardrobe, even a touch of lipstick. The children gasped.
“Mum, you look like a princess!” Jack exclaimed.
William arrived at eight. He froze in the doorway, taking her in.
“You look beautiful.”
After dinner, with the children occupied and Margaret discreetly retired, they sat at the kitchen table.
“Your mother said you wanted to talk,” Olivia began.
William ran a hand through his hair. “Olivia, I Theres someone else. Her names Laura.”
“I know.”
His head snapped up. “You do?”
“No shouting, no tears. Just tell medo you want this to end?”
“I dont know. The children, you, this house But Ive remembered what happiness feels like.”
“Could you find it with me again?”
He reached across the table. “Lets try. Properly this time.”
The next morning, Margaret returned the photo to its place on the wall.
Olivia, coffee in hand, watched from the doorway.
“Putting it back?”
“For now,” Margaret said. “Well see.”
