Forgotten Promises
The autumn wind lazily twirled the fallen leaves outside the window, weaving peculiar patterns in the air. Laura stood with her forehead pressed against the cool glass, gazing with quiet sorrow at the mournful dance of nature. Her mood matched the weatherdreary and grey.
In the next room, Andrew was getting ready for work. He checked twice to make sure he had everything: memory sticks, slipped his laptop into his satchel, and grabbed a folder full of documents. Right. Seemed like he had it all.
Are you going to be late again tonight? Lauras voice, though steady, trembled within her. She was doing her utmost to hide what she was truly feeling.
Most likely, Andrew replied curtly, not bothering to turn. Big project on today. Got to finish the presentation.
Laura tightened her grip on her mug of tea, her knuckles whitening from the strain. Seven years ago, everything was different. Hed needed her help for his dissertation presentation back then. They sat cross-legged on the floor of their first rented flat, laptop perched on a battered coffee table. They laughed as they fixed his awkward slides together
Now, there seemed to be an invisible wall between them. The warm memories of the past felt like a distant dream, and the present seemed cold and uninviting.
Perhaps I can help? Laura offered, the hope in her voice fragile. She so rarely saw her husband these days that she would have given up her day off just to be near him.
Andrew finally raised his eyes, but only brieflya quick glance at her face, then away. He did up his suit jacket with a sense of haste, as if eager to escape.
Its alright, its pretty straightforward. The team will sort it, he replied, dismissive, almost indifferent. Theyre being paid well enough for it.
His words sliced deep. The team. One word, but it held such distance and indifference. Once, hed spoken with excitement about each of his colleagues, sharing stories of how talented and interesting they were. Now, they were just the team, a faceless blur, as if they meant nothing to him.
The front door slammed; Andrew had gone. Laura sank into a chair, her gaze aimlessly skirting the table. Amid the scattered papers and cold cups, she spotted a white rectanglea restaurant receipt for two hundred and fifty pounds. Work expense, hed told her.
Funny, when she suggested they go there together, Andrew had been dead against it.
Rubbish food, hed scoffed. Just somewhere flashy, makes the right impression on clients, thats all.
Laura closed her eyes, forcing back tears. When had they last gone out together? She couldnt remember. Maybe three years ago, their anniversary, but she couldnt say for sure.
*********************
She perched on the sofa, knees hugged to her chest, mindlessly swiping through old photos on her phone. Each image was a doorway to another time, when things seemed unshakeable, their love everlasting.
There they were on the beachcarefree, happy. Andrew in those ridiculous striped trunks shed picked just to wind him up, holding her hand. She was laughing with her head thrown back, because hed just dropped an ice cream down his own shirt. Another picture, in the parkhe was feeding the ducks, and shed pretended to pout, feigning jealousy at his fowl audience.
Flick. Their old flatAndrew balanced precariously on a stool, trying to hang a shelf, while she handed him tools with an encouraging grin. Their mates had insisted on capturing the magic of the early days.
In all these photos, they looked impossibly happy. So what changed? Why could they barely talk now?
The phone buzzed in her hands. A message from her friend:
How are you? Fancy meeting up?
Laura stared at the words a long while before typing back, fingers trembling ever so slightly:
Im alright. Sorry, exhausted. Need a decent nights sleep.
She pressed send, set the phone down and closed her eyes, no strength or will to face anyone. More questions. More advice she hadnt asked for.
The next morning greeted Laura with a flat grey sky and a strange determination to change something. She headed for the wardrobe and began sorting through their things. At the very bottom, dust collecting on the lid, lay an old box. With shaking hands she lifted the top and paused.
Inside were the treasures of their past: yellowed cinema tickets from when theyd first started dating, pressed wildflowers Andrew had picked for her on their anniversary, and even his old university shirtthe one hed been so fond of. Laura lifted it to her face, hoping for the faintest trace of his aftershave. All she found was detergent and time.
Sifting further, she found a battered notebook. Her own handwriting, faded but insistent: Andrew said Im his greatest stroke of luck. Beside it, his hurried scrawl: Laura + Andy = always.
She ran a finger over the words, as if touching them would transport her to when those hopes were not just scribbles, but alive with meaning.
That evening, the hush was broken by the front door opening earlier than usual. Andrew was back. Laura held herself still in the kitchen, listening to his footsteps. He passed through to the bathroom, then into the lounge. The gentle ring of his mobile followed, and his voice, softer than usual.
Yes, Im home. No, not tired. Maybe tomorrow, then…
Laura froze before the hob, staring into a pot of soup slowly cooling on the stove. Her heart thudded as she caught words spoken in whispers, with a careful gentleness that had become rare between them.
Who was that? she asked as he finally appeared.
Work, Andrew replied, not bothering to look up from his phone. We were sorting out tomorrows meeting.
She nodded, hiding the pain behind a neutral mask. Work. How many times had she heard that excuse lately? Too many to believe it anymore.
The clock crept towards midnight. Laura lay in bed, eyes wide in the dark. Next to her, Andrew slept soundlysleep seemed to elude him less than anything else these days.
And she lay awake, thinking how strange life was. Seven years ago, theyd been skint, renting a poky flat, but genuinely happylaughing at daft things, content in simple pleasures, sharing everything from the last chocolate to their secret hopes.
Now they had everything: a posh flat in Brighton, a solid income, holidays when they liked. Yet a chasm had grown between them, one no expensive gadget or getaway could mend. Husband and wife on paper, but as distant as strangers.
***********************
Early sunlight filtered timidly through the curtains as Laura opened her eyes. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the flatunusual for a weekday. Laura propped herself up, listening. The gentle clatter from the kitchen: crockery, the whir of the coffee machine.
Thought Id make you a treat, Andrew announced, his smile stiff and mechanical, like he was ticking a box. Sleep well?
Fine, Laura replied quietly, settling at the table and watching him set her coffee down, all calm efficiency.
Youre up early, she remarked, trying to gauge his mood.
Yeah, got a few things to finish before the meeting. He was already scrolling through his phone, fingers moving with barely disguised tension.
Actually, are you alright if I head off to the work do on Friday? he asked suddenly, still glued to the screen. Supposed to be something special.
Inside, Lauras heart twisted. Friday. Their anniversary. Seven years.
You didnt mention before… Her voice cracked against her will.
Only found out yesterday myself, he replied, sipping his coffee, still unable to meet her eyes. Its really important for my career, you know?
She simply nodded. Of course, she understood. Career was everything. More important than their anniversary, than her, than all those vows, all those forevers inked into a battered notebook.
His phone vibrated again, and Andrew was lost in messages, drifting even further from the reality where his wife sat crying into her cold coffee.
Once the front door closed, Laura sat at the kitchen table for ages, clutching her mug. Her gaze was hollow, locked on a single stain in the wood, thoughts spinning like lonely autumn leaves outside the window.
Eventually, she stood. Her movements were robotic now, as though she was a spectator at her own life. She packed a bag, shrugged on her coat, and stepped out. She needed air, needed to find proof of life outside these suffocating walls.
She wandered through the familiar rhythm of the city. Footsteps carried her past the off-license where theyd once bought cheap prosecco for an impromptu datedelighting in their thrift. She found herself in the small park where Andrew had confessed he loved her once: red-faced, stumbling over words. And that old bus stoptheyd shivered in the cold, no money for a cab, not caring, because they were together.
Eventually Laura found herself on an old park bench. Across from her sat a couple; the girl whispered something, and the boy blushed, grinning with that wild adoration Andrew once reserved for her. Laura watched and realised, with a sudden ache, that once theyd been just the sameso long ago.
Hands shaking, she rang her friend.
Hi, Emma… Yes, lets meet.
The café was warm and bustling, background music meandering between the clusters of conversation. Emma spotted Laura instantly and saw something was wrongthe dull eyes, pale cheeks, lips fixed in a thin determined line.
Whats happened? Emma asked, her way not burdened by pleasantries.
Laura drew in a long, careful breath. She knew she had to say it. Out loud.
Hes changed. I dont know when it started, but now… he feels like a stranger. Theres this wall I cant climb over.
Emmas eyes showed empathy, and she waited. After a pause, she asked gently but firmly,
Have you tried talking to him? Actually talkingnot just Im fine, but properly, to get to the bottom of it?
Laura sighed, shoulders slumped under invisible weight.
I have. He shrugs it off. Says Im making something out of nothing. Says everythings fine. Like he doesnt see what I see.
Emma frowned, considering.
Dont you think so as well? she pressed quietly.
Laura glanced at the rain streaking down the window, turning the city into a blur of grey. Each drop traced a slow path, like tears.
I think weve lost something important, she said softly. What made me say yes in the registry office. What made us an us.
Emma reached over, covering Lauras hand with her own.
People change, Laura. Sometimes for better, sometimes not. But you cant lose sight of yourself. Remember what you loved about him. Dont let life put out that fire between you.
Laura nodded, her head swirling with a hundred thoughts.
Maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe this is a rough patch. All couples go through it…
But deep down she knew it was more than thata sense she was living someone elses life, perfect on the outside, lost inside.
When she returned to the flat, the familiar smell of coffee greeted her. Andrew was sunk into the sofa, eyes glued to the laptop screen.
Laura perched nearby, searching for the right words.
I was thinking she began, voice striving for calm confidence, Maybe we should go away for a weekend. Just us. Like we used to.
Andrew barely looked up, the request a distraction.
Cant right now. Too much on at work.
But maybe just a few days, to
Laura, he said impatiently. Theres a big deadline. Its important for us. Dont you understand?
She bit back tears. Why did she expect anything else?
Fine, she managed. I understand.
She got up and walked to the bedroom, feeling the gap between them stretch with each step. He was already tapping away, work swallowing him whole.
Laura sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her legs, lost in thought.
Behind that wall was someone she had once loved with her whole heart. The man shed shared laughter and secrets with. But now he felt so farmarooned in a world she couldnt reach.
Minutes stretched, her thoughts chasing themselves in circles. Unable to sleep, she wandered to the window. Rain drummed along the sill, the world awash with silver specks against the night.
Laura pulled out her phone, automatically searching for that one photosunlit sea, silly grins, laughter echoing in the breeze. Happy. In love.
She pressed the phone to her chest, as if it could transport her back.
Where are you, Andrew? she whispered. Wheres the man I loved?
The screen went dark, but she kept watching, quietly hoping tomorrow he would look at her the way he once had.
When did it all change? She asked again and again. There was no single answer. Just a gradual drift, almost imperceptible.
The next morning, Laura called in sick. Without telling Andrew, she packed an overnight bag and went to her mothers in Kingston. Her mum saw the sadness in her face instantly. With the gentle wisdom only mothers possess, she put the kettle on and fetched Lauras childhood favouritehomemade raspberry jam.
Go on, tell me everything, her mother said as tea steamed in their mugs.
And Laura did. All of it. The growing distance, the mysterious numbers in his phone, the endless work parties, how now the only thing they talked about was his jobnot their life. How every evening was lonelier than the last.
Her mother listened quietly, sometimes shaking her head. When Laura finished, her mum handed her a spoonful of jam.
When did he last ask about you? Not whats for dinner, but how are you? What do you dream about?
Laura paused, searching her memory for any recent instance, but she came up empty. No sincere questions about her feelings, her hopes, her day. Just work talk and dwindling affection.
And that terrified her.
Evening fell, painting the sky in muted lilac; Laura let herself into the flat, quietly. The warm glow of a lamp lit up the sitting room, Andrew hunched in his favourite chair, working. Next to him, an untouched plate and a used mug.
Andrew, can we talk? Laura asked softly, settling on the sofa.
He exhaled heavily, closing the laptop as if it caused him pain.
Again? Alrightwhats it now?
Us. She twisted her hands together to still the trembling. Were lost. Youve changed.
Changed? He almost scoffed. Im just working. Im trying so we have everything you deserve.
I dont need everything, she said, swallowing hard. I need you. The man who brought wildflowers home, who laughed with me at silly things, who fell asleep holding me close as if scared hed lose me.
A heavy silence settled between them, clock ticking out the seconds of their old and new life.
Andrews face flickered with something unreadable. He rubbed his eyes.
You really miss that, dont you? His voice was rough, unexpectedly vulnerable.
Yes, Laura replied, looking him in the eye. It made you happy, and knowing that made me happy. Now it feels like were following a script that isnt ours.
Andrew leaned back, closing his eyes, fighting for words. When he spoke, his voice sounded frayed at the edges.
I thought if I earned more, bought us a flat, a car, made everything comfortableyoud be happy. I thought that was loveproviding. But youre talking about flowers and ducks…
Its not about flowers, she said, coming closer, heart pounding. Its about attention. About being seen, heard, valuednot just the wife, but a person you love.
I feel lost, Andrew confessed, almost whispering. At work theres always talk of pushing forward. I kept running ahead. Then I looked backand suddenly you werent by my side anymore.
Im here, she replied, touching his hand gently. You just stopped noticing. Stopped seeing whats real.
He took her hand, pressing it to his cheek, searching for reassurance.
Im sorry, he whispered. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.
They sat side by side, woven fingers passing warmth between them, reclaiming what had so nearly slipped away. Streetlights flickered on behind rain-streaked glass, but inside, only the gentle glow of the table lamp lit their faces.
Remember when we talked about getting away? Laura asked softly. To the Peaks, a little cottage, no hurry, just us?
Andrews smile was slow, genuinethe one shed missed so dearly.
I remember. Shall we? Next weekend, just go?
Even if it means missing work? she asked, not daring to hope.
Even work, he said firmly, squeezing her hand. If my jobs taking away the best bits of my life, somethings wrong.
The next morning, Laura woke to the glorious smell of good coffee. Andrew was at the hob, stirring something in a saucepan, movements calm and familiarthe young man shed fallen for.
What are you making? she asked, hugging him from behind.
Breakfast, he replied, turning. In his eyes was the warmth shed longed for. And yes, I cancelled all Friday plans. Were going to that lakeside cottage.
She held him tighter, breathing in the scent of himno aftershave, just the comfort of home, of them.
Thank you, she murmured, tears prickling with happiness.
For what? he asked, gently teasing.
For coming back, Laura said quietly.
He kissed her forehead, voice as true as his embrace.
I didnt even realise Id left. But Im here now.
Outside, rain still fell, but it sounded bright, hopeful, as though it could finally wash away old hurts and misunderstandings. In that kitchen, the air was thick with coffee, breakfast, and something preciousthe scent of a happiness theyd nearly lost, but just managed to reclaim.
