Dear Diary,
For the first time in eight years of marriage, Andrew met me after work in a way that felt almost cinematic. He was waiting outside the office, smiling, as I stepped out with two colleagues. Whos this? one of them asked. Thats my husband, girls, I replied, and he took my hand.
It was the last warm days of October. We strolled slowly through a small park, the leaves turning gold. Andrew nudged the fallen leaves with his shoe and talked endlessly, sometimes darting ahead, then turning back to walk beside me, his laughter filling the air. I barely heard the words; my mind drifted back to a time long ago when wed been alone in the city at dusk, a sweet anticipation swelling in my throat.
Later we collected Tommy from nursery. In the weeks that followed, Andrew began doing it himself. He didnt do it often, but for him it meant a lot, because he had never been the one to pick him up before.
A few weeks later, on a grey Thursday in November, I returned home from work to find three large red roses in the vase on the kitchen table. A warm glow spread through my chest, and I lingered at the doorway, my heart pounding, waiting for Andrew. Andrew, thank you, I whispered, my voice trembling.
Our intimate life had changed over the years. In our youth we had explored each others boundaries, and I had wanted more, but Andrew seemed content with what we had. We never spoke much about it; love, after all, isnt always discussed in detail.
In recent weeks, however, Andrew crossed those old, unspoken limits as if they had never existed. I was pleasantly surprised, yet I kept my composure, accepting it as if it had always been there.
A month slipped by. The story ends on a Saturday in December, which began in the night. I awoke to feel Andrews hand brushing my hair. It lasted barely a minute; he didnt notice I was awake, turned away, and fell asleep again. I lay there, eyes on the dark ceiling until the patterns on the wallpaper began to pale. As sleep finally claimed me, I admitted to myself how exhausted I felt after two months of newness, when I should have felt the opposite. I drifted off with a heavy heart.
Morning erupted with Tommys cries: Mum, Dad, snow! Overnight a thick blanket of snow had covered the street, turning everything a blinding white, even the roadways. Mum, can we go out with the sleds? he pleaded. I hurriedly made sandwiches and tea, and the three of us ate.
While tying Tommys scarf, I heard him shout, You have no idea how much I love you! Andrew stood by the window, looking at us, his gaze distant, then met my eyes with a mixture of fear and pleading. It reminded me of a summer after rain, when the sun is still hidden behind clouds but everything becomes suddenly clear and crisp, each detail falling into place.
I turned away, my hands trembling. I didnt look at Andrew, but I knew I had to say something. Are you with us? I asked. He seemed startled, his face registering confusion, then he laughed and answered, Of course! and went to get dressed.
I wanted nothing more. We spent the day outside. The frost was gentle, the sun bright enough to make us squint. We slid down a small hillAndrew and Tommy on the sled, while I watched. Later the boys frolicked, throwing snowballs, shouting and laughing, chasing each other. Andrew tossed a weak snowball at me, inviting me to catch it; I did, and he never tried again.
At one point I walked a little way off and watched a flock of crows screaming overhead. Suddenly the sky swirled, the sun was blotted out, and I stumbled, falling onto the snow. Andrew was there in an instant, helping me up and shaking the snow from his coat. Are you alright? he asked. Our eyes met for a few seconds before he leaned in, almost kissing me. I pushed his hand away firmly.
If this had happened three months earlier, Andrew would have been furious, but now he just gave a crooked smile, shrugged, and ran back to Tommy for another snowball fight. I fled in the opposite direction, tears streaming, vision blurred. I ran home, wiping my nose on my sleeve, falling a few times, getting up, and running again.
Andrew, without even fixing Tommys hat, shoved him into the sled and chased after me. Tommys hat slid over his eyes, the snowcaked gloves too big to adjust. We caught up with him just outside the front door. Whats wrong with you? I shouted.
The rest of the day was spent building Lego castles and watching cartoons. Somehow Andrew had the patience to sit with Tommy for hours. I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, listening to their laughter drifting from the living room. At one point I stepped out to the neighbours flat for a cigarette; Im not a regular smoker, but the stress made me reach for one.
After dinner, while I was washing dishes, Andrew perched on a stool behind me, chatting away. I turned to him, looked straight into his eyes, and asked calmly, Andrew, who are you?
