“Us. I mean us.” She raised her voice, which she never did, as if there were a problem with his hearing, when in fact the problem lay with her lack of clarity. Because he still didn’t get it. What was she trying to say?
“I don’t think it’s working. I don’t feel as if ... I don’t want this.”
“What don’t you want? We’re married!”
“I don’t want to be married to you anymore.” Her shoulders appeared slumped, as if she had been carrying a heavy burden.
“But ... I love you,” he said feebly, hearing how pathetic he sounded. “Where has this come from?” He still couldn’t take in what she had just said. “Don’t you love me anymore? Or ... I don’t understand.”
Lovisa said nothing. She simply shook her head. It was impossible for Didrik to work out whether she was confirming that she no longer loved him, or if it was a sign of resignation. But he could see it in her eyes.
“Can’t we talk about this? What is it you think isn’t working?”
Lovisa sank back down onto the sofa. “You and me. We ... I don’t know. We don’t have anything in common anymore.”
“But we’re ...” Didrik sat down beside her. “Children. We’re trying for a baby.”
Lovisa gazed at him in silence.
“For God’s sake, I love you! How can you throw this in my face?” He was the one who raised his voice now. Lovisa looked shocked; they didn’t behave like this. Until now, their marriage had always maintained a calm, low-key equilibrium that was based on mutual respect.
“I’m moving out tomorrow.” She stood up again and headed for the bedroom.
Moving out? Where to? How long for? For good?
“I need to think,” she added.
No problem, he could give her time to think. Give her a few days to sort out her thoughts. Of course he could.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she called from the bedroom.
“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Didrik said wearily.
The following morning had been dreadful. Lovisa didn’t want to talk; she was distant and silent as she picked up her suitcase and slammed the door when she set off for work. Didrik had somehow made his way to his office at Gärdet to prepare for the TV show. Lovisa hadn’t been in touch all day, and by Tuesday morning he couldn’t bear it any longer. He had to know.
When are you coming back?
He closed his eyes. A message with absolutely no dignity. The reply had pinged back almost immediately:
I need time.
Didrik hurried along the corridor, greeting those he passed but avoiding meeting anyone’s eye. He needed to get to the changing room, and fast.
“Didrik. Hi.”
Shit.It was one of the directors from the morning show, a guy Didrik had lunch with occasionally. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t mind chatting to him at all.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you—I wanted to get your input about ...”
“Yes, absolutely, give me a call tomorrow when I’m in the office.” Didrik forced a smile and kept walking. His phone vibrated—was it Lovisa? Was she ready to see him? Perhaps she would tell him that it had all been a mistake, she’d changed her mind, she didn’t know what had come over her, these things happen. Their relationship was definitely working. They were fine. They loved each other, after all.
How could she think anything else?
Thirteen years. They had been a couple for thirteen years, married for eight. They had been trying to have a baby for six years. He had believed their efforts and failures had brought them closer together. What had he missed?
He practically ran along the corridor to the dressing room, then opened the door, sank down on the bench, loosened his bow tie, and took it off. Undid a few shirt buttons. Shrugged off his jacket and took a deep breath. With shaking hands, he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the table, unscrewed the cap, and knocked it back so fast that the bubbles went up his nose, making him snort and cough. He put it down and took another deep breath.
When he checked his phone, his shoulders slumped. It was only a message from Elnaz, the features editor from the production company that was working on new program ideas. She wanted to confirm that they were meeting for drinks this evening.
