Back to Her Again — Are you going back to her again? Marina asked, already knowing the answer. Dmi…

There he goes again.

Are you heading over there, again? Emily asked, but she already knew the answer. David nodded without looking up, tugging on his jacket and checking his pocketskeys, phone, wallet, all set. Time to leave.

Emily lingered, hoping for a word, a simple sorry or even Ill be back soon. But David just opened the door and slipped out. The lock clicked quietly, politely, as if it was apologising for its owner.

Emily wandered over to the window. The street outside was lit by faded streetlights, and it was easy to spot his familiar figure below. David walked briskly, with purpose, like a man who knew exactly where he was heading. Back to her. To Alice. To their seven-year-old daughter Sophie.

She pressed her forehead to the cold glass.

Shed always known. Right from the start, she understood what she was signing up for. When Emily and David first met, he was technically still married. He had the ring, the shared London flat, and the child. But he no longer lived with Alicehe rented a room, came back only for his daughter.

She cheated on me, David once told her. I couldnt forgive it. Ive filed for divorce.

And Emily believed himso easily. She wanted to believe. Shed fallenhopelessly, recklessly, like a lovesick teen. Coffee dates, late-night phone calls, that first rainy kiss outside her building. David looked at her as if she was the only woman on earth.

Then the divorce, the wedding, a new flat, plans for the future, conversations about building a life together. And then

It began.

At firstphone calls. Dave, please bring medicineSophies ill. Dave, the taps leaking, help! Dave, your daughters crying, she wants to see you, come now.

And every time, David would drop everything and go.

Emily tried to understand. Of course, the child came first. Sophie was blameless; she deserved a loving dad. He should be there, should help, should show up. Sometimes David listened to Emily, tried to draw boundaries with Alice. But Alice knew how to change tactics.

Dont come this weekend. Sophie doesnt want you.
Stop calling, its upsetting her.
She asked why Daddy left us. I didnt know what to say.

Thats when David would crumble. Every time Emily encouraged him to hold firm on a just this once request, Alice would hit where it hurt. Within days, Sophie would echo her mother: You dont love us. You chose another lady. I dont want to see you.

No seven-year-old dreamed that up alone.

David would come home after one of those visitsbroken, guilty, hollow-eyed. Always rushing back, desperate not to lose his daughters affection.

Emily truly understood. She did.

But she was exhausted.

Davids figure vanished round the corner. Emily pulled away from the glass, absently rubbing the mark it left on her skin. The empty flat pressed down on her.

It was nearly midnight when she heard his key in the lock. Emily sat in the kitchen with a mug of cold tea. She hadnt touched it, just watched the dark skin form on the surface. Three hours shed been waiting, ears tuned to every sound in the corridor.

David crept in, tossed his jacket on the hook. He moved carefully, hoping he wouldnt be noticed.

So, what happened this time?
Emily was surprised at how calm she sounded. Shed rehearsed this line for hours, and by now, all her feelings had burned out.

David hesitated.
The boiler packed up. Had to fix it.

Emily looked up slowly. He hovered in the kitchen doorway, not quite ready to come in, staring past her into the dark window.

But you dont know how to fix boilers.
Called a plumber.
And you had to wait? You couldnt just call from here?

He frowned, folded his arms. Silence thickened.

Do you still love her?

This time, he did look at hersharp, hurt, angry.

What are you on about? Everything I do, I do for my daughter. For Sophie! Alice isnt the point at all.

He stepped into the kitchen, and Emily shrank back on her chair.

You knew, didnt you? You knew Id have to keep going over there. You knew I had a child. So what, youre going to have a meltdown every time I see my daughter?

Her throat tightened. She wanted to answer sharply, with dignity, but tears pricked her eyes and one rolled down her cheek.

I just thought she hesitated, swallowing the lump. I thought youd at least pretend to love me. Pretend a little.

Em, please, enough
Im tired! Her voice cracked, startling even herself. Tired of not even coming second! But third! After your ex, after her whims, after a broken boiler at midnight!

David slammed his hand against the doorframe.

What do you want from me? To abandon my kid? Stop visiting her?

I want you to choose me, just once! Emily shot to her feet, the mug teetered, tea splashed the table. Just once, say nonot to me, but to her. To Alice!

I cant stand your scenes anymore!

David spun, yanked his coat off the hook.

Where are you going?

The only reply was the slam of the door.

Emily stood in the kitchen, tea dripping onto the linoleum, her ears ringing. She grabbed her phone, dialled his number. Ring, ring, ring. The person you are calling is unavailable.

Again. And again.

Silence.

Emily slumped into a chair, clutching her phone to her chest. Where was he? Back to her? Or just wandering through dark streets, furious and wounded? She had no idea, and that gnawing uncertainty made everything worse.

It was a long, bleak night.

Emily sat on the bed, phone in handwatching the screen light up, fade, light up again. Dial, wait for tone, hang up. Type a message: Where are you? Then another: Please reply. Then: Im scared. Hit send, watch the single grey tick appear below each message. Not delivered, or delivered but unread. What difference did it make?

By four in the morning, she stopped crying. Tears dried up somewhere inside, replaced by a ringing emptiness. She got up, flicked on the bedroom light, and opened the wardrobe.

Enough.

Shed had enough.

She found her suitcase gathering dust on the top shelf, with an old airport label barely hanging on. Emily threw it onto the bed and started packing. Jumpers, jeans, underwear, no sorting, no foldingjust cramming everything in within reach. If he didnt care, why should she? Let him come home to emptiness. Let him search for her, call, write messages shed never read.

Let him find out what it was like.

By six, Emily stood in the hallway. Two suitcases, bag slung over her shoulder, jacket buttoned skew-whiff. She stared at her keys in her hand. Need to remove hers, leave it on the side table.

But her fingers wouldnt work.

Emily fiddled with the ring, trying to pry it off with a nail, but the key wouldnt budge, her hands shook, and her eyes blurred with yet more tearshow could she still have tears?

Oh, damn it!

The keyring clattered to the floor. Emily stared at it for a moment, then sank onto her suitcase, hugged her knees, and broke down. Loud, ugly sobs, like a child whod smashed mums favourite vase and thought the world had ended.

She didnt hear the door open.

Emily

David knelt down in front of her, right on the chilly tiles. He smelt of cigarettes and the London night.

Em, Im sorry. Im so sorry.

She raised her head. Her face was wet, puffed up, mascara smeared in black streaks. David gently took her hands in his.

I was at my mums. All night. She gave me a proper talking to He managed a twisted smile. She knocked some sense into me, really.

Emily stayed quiet. She looked at him, unsure whether to believe or not.

Im taking Alice to court. Ill demand an official visitation schedule with Sophieproperly, through the solicitors. She wont be able to mess me around, turn Sophie against me anymore.

His fingers tightened around hers.

I choose you, Em. Hear me? You. Youre my family.

Something inside her stirred. Just a glimmer of hopea stubborn, foolish little seed shed spent all night trying to pull out.

Really?
Really.

Emily closed her eyes. Shed trust David. One last time. After that who knows?