Lucy flew out a day before everyone else for her mother-in-law’s birthday. She’d barely dropped into her plane seat when she flinched—someone had unexpectedly called her name.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag as she stood in the check-in queue. There was still a day to go until her ex-mother-in-law’s birthday, but Lucy had deliberately chosen the early flight. She knew Jack, as always, would put everything off until the last minute—he’d probably fly out the following morning. Three years had passed since the divorce, and in all that time they’d managed to live in the same city without ever bumping into each other. Now Lucy wanted to upset that delicate balance less than ever.
Seat 12A, she read from her boarding pass. By the window, the way she liked it. On the plane, she reached for her book as usual—a new novel she’d started the day before and couldn’t put down. A story about love, betrayal and forgiveness. She used to steer clear of such stories, but time heals.
“Lucy?” A familiar voice made her shudder. What a coincidence.
Slowly, she looked up. Jack was standing in the aisle, hand on the handle of his suitcase. Just as well-groomed as ever, in his favourite grey jacket. Only at his temples had a touch of grey crept in—something she’d never noticed before.
“You’re always late,” slipped out instead of a greeting.
“And you always plan everything in advance,” he replied with a smile, pulling out his boarding pass. “Hm. 12B.”
Lucy felt her cheeks burn. Three hours on a plane next to the man she’d carefully avoided all these years. Fate seemed to be having a laugh at their expense.
“I could swap seats with someone,” Jack began.
“Don’t bother,” Lucy cut in. “We’re adults.”
Jack nodded and sat down beside her. His familiar aftershave drifted over, and the scent hit her like a stab to the heart. How many mornings had she woken up with that smell in her nose?
“How’s work?” he asked after take-off, when the silence became unbearable.
“Good. I’ve opened my own yoga studio,” she replied in a steady voice. “And you? Still there?”
“No, I moved into consulting. Remember how I always dreamt of that?”
Of course she remembered. She also remembered the endless arguments about it. She had been afraid of change; he had longed for it. Now, years later, each of them had got what they wanted. So why did her heart still hurt so much?
“Mum will be over the moon to see you,” Jack said after a pause. “She still keeps that ceramic vase you gave her for her last birthday.”
“Helen was always…” Lucy paused, searching for the right words. “…so good to me.”
“Even after the divorce, she said you were the best daughter-in-law anyone could wish for.”
Lucy felt her eyes well up. She reached for her book to hide her emotion.
“What are you reading?” Jack glanced at the cover.
“A Time for Forgiveness,” she replied, and they both fell silent as the irony of the title sank in.
They spent the rest of the flight in silence, but it was a different kind of silence—not tense like a stretched string, but almost cosy, like old times. When the plane landed in London, Jack helped her take her bag down from the overhead locker.
“Shall we share a taxi?” he suggested. “We’re heading in the same direction anyway.”
Lucy hesitated. Three years ago they had split up, convinced they’d never stand side by side again. And yet here they were, and the world hadn’t ended.
“Fine,” she nodded. “But I’m keeping an eye on the sat nav—you always argued with technology.”
Jack laughed, and that familiar laugh made something tremble inside her. Perhaps sometimes you had to let go of the past so the present could shine brighter?
As they left the plane, she realised it was the first time in a long while that she didn’t regret a chance encounter. Ahead lay the birthday, a festively set table and the uncertain looks of relatives. But now she knew—they’d manage. After all, they always had.
The taxi weaved through the evening streets of London. Lucy, as promised, kept an eye on the route while Jack sat beside her, separated only by a bag on the middle seat.
“Right here,” said Lucy, and Jack smiled: she knew the way to his parents’ house better than he did.
“Remember the first time we drove to Mum’s?” he asked suddenly. “You were so nervous.”
“Of course!” Lucy snorted. “I was so nervous I changed outfits three times before we left. I wanted to make a good impression.”
“And then you spilled soup all over yourself.”
They both laughed, and for a moment time seemed to stand still. But then the taxi stopped in front of the familiar house, and the moment vanished into the twilight.
Helen greeted them at the door and raised her hands in surprise.
“You came together? What a surprise!”
“Met by chance on the plane,” Lucy explained hastily, catching a glimmer of hope in her ex-mother-in-law’s eyes.
“Come in, come in! Lucy, I’ve prepared your room—the same one as always.”
Lucy froze. Her room—the upstairs bedroom where she and Jack had always stayed when they visited. Where the morning sun painted playful patterns on the wallpaper, and the old apple tree could be seen from the window.
“Mum, maybe I’d better take the spare room?” Jack tried.
“No arguments!” Helen interrupted. “The guests are sleeping there tomorrow. Lucy stays in the bedroom, you in your old room. Just like the old days.”
Just like the old days—the words echoed in Lucy’s mind. In truth, nothing was like the old days, but neither of them dared argue with Helen.
The evening passed with preparations for the party. Lucy helped in the kitchen while Jack sorted through old boxes in the attic—a task his mother had been asking him to do for ages. They deliberately avoided being alone together, but under one roof that wasn’t easy.
That night, Lucy lay awake for a long time. The bed felt too big, too empty. Behind the wall, in the old room, the floorboards creaked—apparently Jack couldn’t sleep either. She recognised the sounds: three steps to the window, four back. That was how he always walked when he was thinking something over.
Suddenly it went quiet. Lucy turned onto her side and looked out of the window. The apple tree rustled in the wind, and for a moment it felt as if the last three years had never happened.
