“Leave the keys on the table,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Emily froze for a second, clutching the keyring to her chest as if it meant more than just a way out of the flat. At first, she hadnt even registered his wordsnor had he, really. Hed just blurted out the first thing that kept his anger in check.
“I dont understand,” she said calmly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he snapped, turning away to stare out the window.
Outside, rain drizzlednot quite a downpour, just a fine mist hanging in the air. The kind of autumn dampness that seeped into your shoes and left streaks on the windowsill. Not the best morning for a breakup, but not the worst either.
Emily walked silently into the kitchen. The keys clattered onto the table as she sat on a stool, staring at themnot at him. Just the keys. Yesterday, shed come home with them, and everything had been if not good, then at least familiar.
“So what now?” she asked flatly.
“Dunno,” he still didnt turn. “Just its for the best.”
“For who?”
He shrugged.
“Everyone.” But the way he said it made it clearfor himself.
Emily stood slowly and walked through the flather flat, really. Every corner held traces of her. The curtains shed picked out after three hours of shopping with her best mate. The pots, the dinner set, even the knivesall bought with her wages. He used to contribute, but then came the debts, the loans, his mum fell ill, and somehow it all landed on her. She never complained. Just waited, believing hed sort himself out, that things would turn around.
And now he stood by the window, asking her to leave the keys.
“Is there someone else?” she asked, passing by.
“Its not about that,” he mumbled.
“I didnt ask what its about. I askedis there someone else?”
He spun around, glancing at her briefly, caught between thought and action.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Theres a woman. Were just talking for now.”
“Just?” Emily scoffed. “You always say that when youre lying. Just talking, dont overthink it, its nothing. I remember this script.”
He sighed like shed scolded him for something trivial, something not worth arguing over.
“Em, dont make a scene. Im not a kid.”
“No, youre not. But youre acting like some bloke whos desperate for the next thrill. Burning everything down just to try something new. And then what? Crawl back later?”
“No.”
“So thats it, then? Dead serious?”
“I didnt say serious. I said done. Were tired of each other. You know it.”
“I know people dont get tired of each other. They get tired of lies. And I wasnt tired. I was waiting. But turns out youd already decided.”
He shrugged.
“Just go. Dont drag it out.”
She nodded. Wordlessly, she went to the bedroom, pulled out her old suitcasethe one shed taken to her mate Charlottes in Manchester years ago. Kept it in the loft, never thinking shed need it. Turned out she did.
Not much to packwork clothes, a couple of dresses, a hairbrush, an unfinished book. And a photo. The one of them on a park bench, grinning like fools back when they still believed “forever” was real.
He hovered in the doorway, not crossing the threshold.
“If you want, I can help”
“Dont. Youve helped enough. Thanks for saying it to my face, at least. Couldve been a coward and texted.”
He scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, you know me. I always face things.”
“Yeah. Doesnt make you better. Just more honest. And honesty without kindness isnt worth a penny.”
He looked down, realising there was no arguing here. Nothing left to fix.
“Where will you go?”
“Charlottes,” she said shortly. “The one you couldnt stand. The one who got on your nerves, your bloody know-it-all mate. She told me two years ago you werent the one.”
“And you didnt listen?”
“Course not. I loved you. Thought she was just jealous.”
“And now?”
“Now I think she was right.”
He edged closer, sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the suitcase like it was a coffin.
“Em Maybe stay? Just tonight. Leave in the morning.”
“Why?”
“Just feels wrong. You walking out in the rain with a suitcase. Peoplell stare.”
“Peoplell stare,” she repeated softly, smiling. “Did you think about me even once this morning?”
He stayed silent. And that silence said more than any answer.
“Im not proud,” she continued. “Or stupid. I knew you were pulling away. Knew you werent really at Daves from work. Saw the hairs in the sink that werent mine. I just waited. Wanted you to decide. Didnt want to kick you outwanted you to leave.”
“So you shouldve thrown me out sooner?”
“Doesnt matter. What matters is its clear now. And dont hold me back, yeah? Its not even anger. Just tired. Deep as the sea.”
He stood, turned away. Back to the window, watching raindrops slide down the glass.
She grabbed her coat from the hook, slipped on her shoes. With a bag in one hand and the suitcase in the other, she paused at the door.
“Goodbye, James.”
“Good luck, Em.”
“Dont forget to change the locks. Just in case I change my mind.”
No reply.
When the door shut behind her, he sank onto the stool shed just vacated, staring at the keys. Her fingers had left an imprint on the wooda faint dent from her ring. He traced it with his thumb. Not painful. Just hollow.
Emily stepped outside. The drizzle lingered, but she didnt bother with an umbrella. Only a short walka few blocksbut her legs trembled, and not from the cold. She stopped by a chemist, set the suitcase down, and slumped onto a bench.
An old woman with a shopping bag sat beside her.
“Alright, love?” she asked, eyeing Emily.
Emily nodded, forcing a smile.
“Better now. Just hard to breathe. But itll pass.”
The old woman nodded knowingly.
“Had the same with my husband. Thirty years together. Then he left. For some young thing. Started over from scratch. And you know what? No regrets. Got my son, my granddaughter now. That one? Dropped dead of a stroke before five years were up with her.”
“Sad.”
“Lifes like autumn. Looks like everythings dying, really its just making room for new.”
Emily glanced up. The rain had eased. A sliver of light broke through the cloudslike a sign. You did the right thing.
She stood, thanked the woman, and walked on. The suitcase rattled over the pavement, but now the noise felt less like a burden and more like the rhythm of a new beginning.
Back in the flatnow too quiet without her voiceJames poured himself strong tea and sat at the table, fingers brushing the keys.
How long would it take to realise? He hadnt just let go of a woman. Hed let go of the only real thing hed ever had.
She reached Charlottes by noon. The stairwell smelled of boiled potatoes, fried onions, and something homely shed almost forgotten. Charlotte opened the door in a dressing gown, hands dusted with flourmidway through baking. At the sight of Emilys suitcase, she just clicked her tongue. No questions.
“Come in.”
Emily stepped inside, dropped her bag, shrugged off her coat.
“You making pies?”
“Mm. Cheese and onion. Still time for a hot one,” Charlotte said, vanishing back into the kitchen, adding under her breath, “And a shot of whiskey if you need it.”
Emily sank onto the sofa. The room hadnt changed in ten yearssame dresser, same telly with a fuzzy screen, same crystal vase of dried roses. Even Charlotte was the same, just shorter hair and a rounder face.
“He left?” Charlotte finally asked.
“Not exactly. I did.”
“Oh.” Charlotte sat beside her, wiping flour off her hands. “On your own, or did he push?”
“Said, leave the keys on the table.”
“Classy. Proper bloke,” Charlotte sneered. “Bet he found some big-chested airhead?”
“Found someone. Dunno if shes an airhead. Might even have a spine. Not my problem now.”
“All that matters is its honest. Look you in the eye, no lies. Butyou
