Antonia stands rooted to the pavement, unable to step forward, unable to retreat. The man from the Range Rover says her name againsoftly, with a trembling note, like someone afraid a dream might fade away.
Antonia is it really you?
Her throat is dry; the words stick. She peers into his facesharper now, more rugged, yet familiar. The same features, the same steady gaze that once could calm her worst fears with a single blink.
She hasnt seen him in twenty years.
Shed never believed shed see him again.
Least of all, right outside their front door, on a night when her husband has shouted that at forty-five, no one would ever want her.
Simon? she whispers. The name slips out, as though it has been waiting at the tip of her tongue her entire life.
Simon nods. His bashful, warm, slightly awkward smile is exactly the same; the smile that once made her knees buckle.
Changed, but still him.
Sorry for just showing up like this, he says, rubbing the back of his necka gesture she remembers painfully well. I found your address last week by chance, really. Was rummaging through some old boxes. Came across a photo. The one you in that white shirt, by the lake. Remember?
Antonia closes her eyes. For a second, she can almost feel the breeze from that daythe damp scent of water, the reckless promise that youth would never end.
She remembers every bit of it.
You were my first Simon says quietly. And I think maybe the only one I could really just be myself with. I always thought Id run into you again But then you left. And
Antonia glances away. The cold nips at her skin, but theres a different sting in her eyes.
I got married after that, she whispers, as if placing a heavy stone into its place.
I know, he replies gently. Thought about contacting you so many times. But I had no right to upend your life.
Antonia gives him a short, bitter smile.
And now you do?
Simon doesnt step back. His gaze is honest, soft, unwavering.
Its too late for silence now.
Her stomach tightens.
What did you want to say, Simon?
He takes a deep breath, like someone about to jump into cold water.
I came to tell you that he stops, the words weighing heavy. That I still think about you. After twenty years. That I never found anyone who could fill the gap you left. That I just wanted to see you, just once. To see if you were happy. Or at least if you werent alone.
Suddenlyjust as if someone pulled back a curtainAntonia hears the clatter of the front door.
She turns sharply.
George stands in the doorway, wearing his worn sweatpants, annoyance etched in every line of his facea look of empty aggression shes seen far too often.
Antonia? What are you doing out here? he growls. Then he spots Simon. His face tightens. And whos this?
Simon turns, his expression calm and composed.
Antonia feels something rising inside herNot anger, not fear, but strength. Old, neglected, yes, but real.
George comes down a step. Then another.
Mate, who do you think you are? Eh? What dyou want? Thats my wife, you hear? he hisses.
Antonia looks at himreally looks at him. Not as she always has, with hunched shoulders and wary eyes. But levelly. Clear. Unflinching.
And she doesnt look away.
Simon she says quietly, Will you tell him why youre here?
Simon doesnt blink.
Im here, he says softly, because she matters to me. Because I havent stopped thinking about her.
Georges face goes white.
Are you mad?! he shouts at Antonia. You come down to flirt with some stranger?! Get back inside, now!
Antonia shakes her head.
No.
George freezes.
No? What do you mean?
It means Im not going back upstairs, she says, firm and clear. Not to a place where Im treated with no respect. Tonight you told me no one would want me at forty-five. She glances at Simon. You were wrong.
George staggers back, as if the words have slapped him.
Antonia steps towards Simon.
Will you take me? she asks, quiet but sure.
Of course, he answers, without hesitation.
George lunges forward:
I wont let you! Youre MY wife!
Antonia raises her handa small gesture, but it stops him cold.
I was your wife, as long as there was respect, she says steadily. Tonight, you destroyed it. And with it, were finished.
She opens the car door. Simon helps her in, closing it gently behind her.
George remains on the pavementconfused, small, helpless.
For the first time, he is the one no one wants.
The car pulls away slowly.
Antonia looks out as the streets of Oxford shimmer through the window in the night. The warmth of the car wraps around her like new skin.
She is not going home.
Not to that home.
She is heading towards something she thought shed lost:
herself.
And after twenty years, after forty-five, after a whole lifetime for the first time, she knows not everything is over.
Its only just beginning.
