The morning light barely crept through the curtains as Emily shook her husbands shoulder. “Youre going to be late! What time are you leaving, Edward? Edward” He groaned, waving her off as if sleep were more important than the clock ticking toward his departure. She glanced at her phoneonly seven on a Saturday.
*Why did I wake up so early? Ive already packed his bag last night* She considered slipping back under the warm duvet, but then
That feeling seized her again. The tightness in her chest, the quiet dread that had haunted her lately. On paper, everything was perfect: a loving husband, a sleek London flat with designer furniture, top-tier appliances. They had two cars, a house in a gated Surrey estate. They wanted for nothing.
Others could only dream of such comfort. Try scraping by on rent, cramming into the Tube every morning, juggling kids homework, cooking dinner, drowning in mortgage payments. *You think youve got problems? What nonsense is this?!*
But there it wasthe same hollow unease, sharp as a blade between her ribs. A premonition of disaster, whispering that something vital was slipping through her fingers. It came without warning, vanished just as fast, only to return when she least expected it.
This morning, it struck again. Emily threw off the covers, studied Edwards sleeping face, and marched to the kitchen. Another business trip. Lately, they never ended. A new boss had taken over eighteen months agobigger salary, bigger company, Edward rising fast as department head. But at what cost? Now even weekends werent safe.
She scrambled eggs, toasted bread, then returned to wake him properly. “Edward, up. Now. Youll miss your train. Didnt you say you were leaving this afternoon?”
“Yeah. Later” His voice was thick with sleep, but he finally dragged himself upright.
“Breakfasts ready.”
“Mmm.” He stumbled after her, still half-drowned in dreams.
At the table, he buried himself in his phone. Lately, their conversations had withered to nothing. No arguments, just distance. He still brought flowers sometimes. They still went to restaurants, walks in Hyde Park, dinners with friends. But nothing felt *right* anymore.
“Take me with you,” Emily blurted.
Edward didnt look up. “Mmm.”
“Seriously. Whats the harm? Youll be at a hotel. Days with colleagues, evenings with me.”
His head snapped up. “What? No! Evenings with me? Dont be ridiculous!”
“Why not? Youre driving, arent you?”
“Yes, butwhat would you even *do* there? Stay home. Relax. Ill be back Monday.”
“Its just some dull little town, isnt it? I could shop, see the sights”
“For Gods sake, Emily! Its a backwater. Weve got shops here on every corner!”
She bit her lip. “Im *bored* here. I wont get in your way”
“If you want a holiday, book a trip! Go alone!”
“*Alone?* Were married, remember?”
His jaw tightened. “Ive told you a hundred timesworks insane right now. The boss is a nightmare. You think I *want* to go?”
“Funny how its always *you* they send. Last week, I saw James from your office at the mall with his wife and kids. But *you* were working.” She hadnt meant to argue, not before he left, but the words tumbled out.
“Right, lets start comparing diaries. Thanks for breakfast.” He shoved back his chair and stalked off to the shower.
She cleaned up in silence while he flicked through the telly. Packed sandwiches, filled a thermos with tea.
“Emilywheres my bag?” His voice carried from the hall.
“By the dresser.”
“Right. Off then. Dont be crosstheres honestly nothing for you there.”
“Fine. Safe trip.”
The door clicked shut.
Saturday stretched ahead. She could call someonedinner, wine, laughter.
But who? Charlotte had a husband and two toddlersno chance. Amelia had moved to a cottage in the Cotswoldsnever in the city anymore. Sophie was off “conquering” Edinburghradio silence for months. Everyone had their own battles, their own chaos.
Emily was thirty-eight. No children. A mistake in her youtha botched procedure, back when they were fresh graduates scraping by in a rented studio.
Years later, she and Edward celebrated their anniversary, and little Beatricenow a teenagerraised her glass with shimmering eyes. “Thank you, Mum, for coming into our lives and making us whole again.”
