Thomas slammed the door of the flat hed shared with Emily for ten years and inhaled sharply. The divorce had stretched on, aching and inevitable. They were exhausted by the endless rows of arguments, the growing misunderstandings, by a love that had dwindled into a weary habit.
Right, Im finally free, he muttered under his breath as he descended the stairwell.
Emily stood at the window, watching his silhouette vanish into the courtyard. Her heart throbbed, but she clenched her jaw. Its for the best, she whispered to herself.
Ten years earlier everything had been different.
The first year felt like a fairytale. They roamed the streets until dawn, words spilling out faster than they could speak, laughing at the silliest things. Thomas slipped love notes into the pockets of Emilys coat. She woke him with breakfast, rising an hour before him just to do it. They were convinced it would last forever.
Then the ordinary life set inwork, chores, fatigue. Thomas, once a romantic dreamer, grew quieter, his chatter shrinking. Emily, who used to sit for hours listening to his musings about existence, now snapped, Not another philosophical rant?
Fights crept up unnoticed. First the small stuff: forgotten rubbish, a missed anniversary, music turned up too loud. Then the big thingsmoney, miscommunication, unfulfilled dreams.
Youve stopped listening to me! Emily shouted.
And you ever hear me? Thomas retorted.
Even on the darkest days, moments flickered: We still love each other, they thought. Late at night, when sleep refused them, they would talkno longer angry, just as they used to. It seemed there was still hope.
But weariness won.
Now Thomas walked down the stairs, Emily watched him go, and both thought the same hollow question: Did this really happen to us?
Three months later.
Thomas rented a tiny flat on the outskirts of Manchester. It seemed he finally had everything hed craved: quiet, freedom, no more fights. Yet each morning he still rose at six and, out of habit, reached across the bed for Emilys side.
Emily stayed in their original flat. She tossed his old toothbrush, rearranged the furniture, and promised herself a fresh start. Still, as night fell, she found herself waiting for the click of a key in the lock.
An unexpected encounter
They collided in a supermarket. Thomas, turning at the cereal aisle, accidentally nudged a trolley.
Excuse me he began, looking up, then fell silent.
In front of him stood Emily. No makeup, a stretchedout sweater, a box of his favourite ginger biscuits in hand.
You used to hate those, Thomas said, halfjoking.
And you still buy that cheap pasta? she replied, nodding toward his basket.
A heavy silence settled. Both knew they should simply say goodbye and walk away, yet their feet refused.
How are you? Thomas finally forced out.
Fine, Emily replied, the lie barely masking her strain.
They lingered for a minute, then an elderly lady behind them muttered, Young lovers, are you planning to stay forever? Youre blocking the aisle!
Thomas stepped aside.
Alright take care.
You too.
Back at his flat, Thomas grabbed his phone.
Remember our first trip to Brighton? You were so mad I forgot the towels
He hesitated, then hit send.
Two minutes later, a reply blinked: I remember. And I also remember what we used instead.
Thomas chuckled. Theyd spent a night on the beach wrapped in his old Tshirts.
Tomorrow at seven. Our café. Youll be there? he typed.
The screen lingered, typing.
Ill be there, she answered.
A fresh start.
The café was the same place, but everything felt altered. Same walls, same scent of freshly brewed coffee, but the table by the window now held two wary people with old scars on their hearts.
Thomas arrived fifteen minutes early, drumming his fingers anxiously on the tabletop. The door swung open and a crisp autumn wind rushed in alongside Emily, her hair tousled by the gust, the sweater hed given her for her birthday still hugging her shoulders.
Youre early, she said, settling opposite him.
And you, as usual, are late, he replied, his voice stripped of its former sharp edge, now softened by tired warmth.
They sat in silence. The space between them thrummed with all the unsaid apologies, the grudges, the whispered sorry.
Why did you buy those biscuits? Thomas asked suddenly. Youve never liked them.
Emilys eyes dropped, her finger tracing the rim of her mug.
I got used to them. Ten years I slipped them into the basket for you I didnt even realise Id taken them.
Thomas exhaled deeply.
I still wake at six, reaching for you out of habit. And youre not there
Their gazes locked, and the realization hit them boththeyd been living as ghosts of each other.
We were foolish, Emily whispered. Thought wed fallen out of love.
We didnt fall out, Thomas corrected. We just forgot how to love.
He extended his hand across the table. She hesitated a heartbeat before placing her palm over his.
Lets try again, he murmured. Only this time we know what not to do.
From scratch? she asked.
No, Thomas shook his head. Not from scratch. With all our baggage, our mistakes, our story. Just differently.
What does differently look like? she pressed.
Thomas thought, a new resolve flickering in his eyesno longer youthful exuberance but seasoned certainty.
It means Ill stop pretending your medical drama is terrible, he said with a faint smile. And youll stop getting annoyed when I fall asleep at the third episode.
It means youll take out the rubbish without me having to remind you, she shot back, a teasing glint in her tone. And youll let me leave my socks under the bed.
Never! Emily laughed, then grew serious. But Ill work on not shouting about them.
Silence fell as rain pattered against the window, the same rain that had drummed the day they first met.
Differently also means we argue, but we wont end up in separate rooms, Thomas said quietly. It means you stop hoarding grievances, and I stop retreating into myself.
He brushed his other hand over hers.
It means remembering that no one else has ever made us laugh as we do with each other.
Emily intertwined her fingers with his.
Its terrifying.
Very, Thomas agreed. But Id rather wake up in a world without you than face another night alone.
The waiter brought the bill. They stepped outside. The rain had stopped. In the distance a faint, muted rainbow arced across the skysoft, imperfect, real. Their love, too, was not a fairytale but a reason to rise each morning.
Shall we go home? Thomas asked.
Lets, Emily replied.
Their steps fell into a single rhythmuneven, hardwon, but theirs. This time, it felt like forever.
