That hesitation hurts more than a no.
“I don’t want us to just coexist,” I whisper. “I miss you. I miss us. When it was easy. When you looked at me like I was your favourite person.”
Something shifts in his face; panic, maybe. Fear.
“I miss you too,” he says. “I just… I don’t know how to do this right.”
For once, he doesn’t try to fix it. He just sits there. His hand inches toward mine. Stops. Then, awkward, tentative, he takes it.
It’s small. But it’s real.
“We try,” he says. “Properly. Not just surviving.”
I nod, tears slipping free.
Behind us, the house hums with mess and noise and responsibility. The sink still full. The sofa still contested. The thinking still mine.
But out here, for a moment, it’s just us.
Two exhausted people, hands linked, choosing, at least tonight, not to let go.
And maybe that’s where love starts again.
CHAPTER TWO
DAN
The house is too loud.
It’s always loud now, but tonight it feels personal. The TV blares from the living room. Someone is shouting about a cushion. Ruby is crying upstairs, that sharp, furious cry that means she’s already decided I’m the wrong parent.
Emma stands at the sink, back to me, staring at a pile of dishes like they’ve personally betrayed her.
I hesitate.
This is the bit I always get wrong. Do I jump in? Do I wait? Do I say something helpful that somehow comes out sounding like criticism?
“Emma?” I try.
Nothing.
I rub my forehead. My head is pounding, work emails, missed deadlines, the constant low-level panic that I’m screwing everything up everywhere at once.
“She won’t go down,” I say, gesturing vaguely upstairs.
Still nothing.
“She wants you,” I add, because that’s usually true. Because it explains things. Because it makes it not my fault.
Emma turns then, eyes sharp, exhausted. She brushes past me without a word.
I know I’ve already lost.
I stand in the kitchen, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. The dishes loom. The bins are out. I did that earlier. I remember thinking good, that’s one thing done, like I was ticking off a list only I could see.
From upstairs, Ruby’s crying stops almost instantly.
Of course it does.
