Julia flew a day earlier than everyone else for her mother-in-law’s anniversary, and just as she settled into her plane seat, she froze – someone out of nowhere called her name…

Tracy had flown a day earlier than everyone else for her mother-in-law’s birthday. The moment she dropped into the aeroplane seat, she flinched—someone had called her name out of nowhere.

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 Tracy had taken the early flight on purpose. She knew James, as always, would leave everything until the last minute—he would probably fly the next morning. Three years had passed since the divorce, and in all that time they had managed to live in London without once crossing paths. Now Tracy wanted that fragile balance disturbed less than ever.

Seat 12A, she read on the boarding pass. By the window, the way she liked it. On the plane, she reached for her book as usual—a new novel she had started yesterday and could not put down. A story about love, betrayal and forgiveness. She used to avoid such stories, but time healed.

“Tracy?” A familiar voice made her freeze. “What a coincidence.”

Slowly she raised her eyes. James stood in the aisle, holding the handle of his case. As immaculate as ever in his favourite grey jacket. Only at the temples a little grey had crept in, something she had never noticed before.

“And you’re always late,” came out of her mouth instead of a greeting.

“And you always plan everything in advance,” he replied with a smile, pulling out his boarding pass. “Hmm. 12B.”

Tracy felt her cheeks flush. Three hours of flight next to the man she had carefully avoided for all these years. Fate seemed to be having a laugh at their expense.

“I could swap seats with someone,” James began.

“Don’t bother,” Tracy cut him off. “We’re adults.”

James nodded and sat down beside her. His familiar aftershave drifted over, and the scent hit her like a stab straight to the heart. How many mornings had she woken up with that smell in her nose?

“How’s work?” he asked after take-off, once the silence had become unbearable.

“Good. I’ve opened my own yoga studio,” she answered, her voice steady. “And you? Still there?”

“No, I moved into consulting. Do you remember I always dreamed of that?”

Of course she remembered. And she remembered the endless arguments about it, too. She had been afraid of change; he had longed for it. Now, years later, they both had what they wanted. So why did her heart hurt so much?

“Mum will be delighted to see you,” James said after a pause. “She still keeps the ceramic vase you gave her for her last birthday.”

“Wendy was always…” Tracy hesitated, 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.”

Tracy’s eyes stung. She reached for her book to hide how moved she was.

“What are you reading?” James glanced at the cover.

“The Time of Forgiveness,” she answered, and they both fell silent as the irony of the title sank in.

The rest of the flight passed in silence, but it was a different silence—not stretched taut like a wire, but almost comfortable, the way it used to be. When the plane touched down in Manchester, James helped her get her bag down from the overhead locker.

“Shall we share a taxi?” he suggested. “We’re going the same way anyway.”

Tracy hesitated. Three years ago they had split up, convinced they would never stand side by side again. And yet here they were, and the world hadn’t ended.

“All right,” she nodded. “But I’m keeping an eye on the satnav—you and technology were always at war.”

James laughed, and that familiar laugh made something inside her tremble. Perhaps you sometimes had to let go of the past so the present could shine a little brighter.

As they left the airport, she realised it was the first time in a long while she hadn’t regretted an accidental meeting. Ahead of them lay the birthday, a festively laid table and the uncertain looks of relatives. But now she knew they would manage. They always had.

The taxi wound through the evening streets of Manchester. Tracy, as promised, kept an eye on the route, while James sat beside her, a bag on the middle seat between them.

“Turn right here,” Tracy said, and James couldn’t help smiling. She knew the way to his parents’ house better than he did.

“Do you remember the first time we drove to Mum’s?” he asked suddenly. “You were so nervous the whole way.”

“Of course!” Tracy snorted. “I changed my clothes three times beforehand. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“And then you poured soup all over yourself.”

They both laughed, and for a moment time seemed frozen. Then the taxi stopped in front of the familiar house, and the moment faded into the dusk.

Wendy met them at the door and lifted her hands in surprise.

“You came together? What a surprise!”

“We ran into each other on the plane,” Tracy explained quickly, catching the flicker of hope in her ex-mother-in-law’s eyes.

“Come in, come in! Tracy, I’ve made up your room—the same one as always.”

Tracy went still. Her room—the bedroom on the first floor, where she and James 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, perhaps I’d better take the guest room?” James tried.

“No arguments!” Wendy interrupted. “That’s where the guests are sleeping tomorrow. Tracy stays in the bedroom, you in your old room. Just like old times.”

Just like old times—the words echoed in Tracy’s head. In truth nothing was like old times, but neither of them dared argue with Wendy.

The evening was spent preparing for the celebration. Tracy helped in the kitchen while James sorted through old boxes in the loft, a job his mother had wanted done for ages. They deliberately avoided being alone together, but under one roof that wasn’t easy.

Tracy couldn’t sleep that night. The bed felt too big, too empty. Behind the wall, in the children’s room, the floorboards creaked—James couldn’t sleep either. She recognised the sound: three steps to the window, four back. That was how he always walked when he was thinking.

Then it went quiet. Tracy turned on her side and looked out of the window. The apple tree rustled in the wind, and for a moment it seemed as if the last three years had never happened.