His words settle over me, heavy and warm all at once. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m carrying it all alone.
I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of everything I've been carrying. I look at Dan, his eyes still full of hope and worry, and I know he means well. But I have to be honest.
"Dan, I do want you to help," I say, my voice quiet but steady. "It’s just that, I'm exhausted. I don’t have the energy to tell you what needs to be done every time. I don’t want to write out a list or explain how to cook a casserole and then answer a million questions. I just need you to use your initiative sometimes."
I pause, searching his face for understanding. "Every day, there’s a new thing; the clutter in the corner, the endless emails from school, the meal planning. And if I have to spell out each little detail, it just becomes too much. I take on everything because the alternative is even more exhausting. I need you to step in without me having to break it all down for you."
My words hang in the air, and I can feel the tension easing just a little as Dan listens. I want him to know that it isn’t aboutnot trusting him, but about the constant strain of managing everything on my own. "I need you to see what I see, Dan. Not every little mess is just a mess to you, it’s my mountain. And if you could help carry that, even without all the instructions, it would mean the world to me."
Dan sighs, rubbing his hands over his face before looking at me again. There’s no anger in his expression, just this deep, tired kind of frustration like he’s trying to piece everything together, trying to make sense of how we got here.
"Emma, I ask so many questions because I don’t want to get it wrong," he says. "So many times, I have done things, and you’ve moaned that I did it the wrong way or not how you would have done it. And I get it, I do. You have a system, a way of doing things. But after a while, it just made me second-guess everything."
He shakes his head. "I don’t want to mess up, so I ask. And then when I ask, it annoys you. So I just… end up feeling like I can’t win either way."
I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going, his voice softer now. "It just seems like this has all come down to a lack of communication for far too long. You’ve been feeling like you have to do everything, and I’ve been feeling like whatever I do isn’t right. And instead of talking about it, we’ve just let it build. You’ve thrown passive-aggressive digs my way, and I’ve probably done the same without even realising it. And now here we are."
He lets out a breath, shaking his head. "I’m glad it’s all out now. I really am. But I just wish instead of snide comments or eye rolls, we could’ve just talked about it all along."
His words land heavily, and I feel something shift in my chest. Because he’s right. We should have talked about it sooner. But we’re talking now. And maybe that’s what matters most.
I nod slowly, feeling the truth of his words settle deep in my chest. "You’re right," I say, my voice quiet but certain. "We should have talked about this a long time ago."
Dan watches me, waiting, listening.
"The point scoring has to stop," I continue. "The little digs, the keeping track of who’s done what, the constant competition over who’s more tired, who’s done more, who has it worse; it’s exhausting, Dan. And it’s not helping either of us."
He exhales, nodding.
"We need to be a team going forward," I say, and I feel a lump rise in my throat because I mean it, so deeply. "If something is bothering one of us, we need to say it. Not with accusations, not with defensiveness, but just say it. We have to actually listen to each other instead of assuming the worst. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to keep feeling like we’re on opposite sides."
Dan reaches for my hand again, his grip warm and steady. "Neither do I," he says. And for the first time in a long time, I believe him.
A weight I didn’t even realise I was carrying seems to lift from my shoulders. Suddenly, everything feels lighter. Like the struggles of our marriage, the unspoken resentment, the exhaustion of feeling alone in this, all of it has been halved. It’s no longer just mine to carry.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel like I’m fighting against Dan. I feel like we’re in this together. Like we’re finally a team.
I glance at him, and there’s something different in his expression. A softness, a warmth I’ve missed so much. Without thinking, I lean in, pressing a small, grateful peck against his lips. It’s brief, barely a second, but as I start to pull away, his hand moves to the side of my neck, his fingers curling gently against my skin.
And then he kisses me.
Not a quick kiss, not a habitual kiss, but a real kiss. A deep, slow, hungry kiss that steals the breath right out of my lungs. It’s so sudden, so unexpected, that my whole body melts into him before I can even think.
A warmth spreads through me, head to toe, and my stomach flips with a rush of butterflies I haven’t felt in so long. It’s like being nineteen again, like being caught up in the whirlwind of him, the pull of him.
When we finally break apart, I realise my cheeks are burning. I’m actually blushing. Because God, when was the last time he kissed me like that?
Dan smirks slightly, his thumb brushing over my skin, like he knows exactly what he’s done to me. And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel like just Mum or the household manager or the invisible force holding everything together.
I feel like Emma. And I feel wanted.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DAN
I don’t think Emma realises how quiet the house feels after a conversation like that.
Not peaceful but quiet in the way everything settles after a storm has torn through. The air still heavy, the damage still visible, but the thunder finally gone. I sit at the dining table long after she’s left the room, replaying every word she said, every crack in her voice, every tear I didn’t know she’d been holding back.
