*Nothing Left to Fix*
Life, as it often does, had split Simon Carters existence into two uneven halves: before Emily and after. But now, standing before the locked door of his own home, he realised there was a third chapterthe “after the after.” And it was empty.
At thirty-seven, Simon was a well-known name in the beauty industry, owned a house and a flat in London, and hadnt worried about money in years. None of it had saved his marriage.
Theyd met when he was twenty-two. Sarahjust seventeen, fresh out of school, with timid dreams of universitywas stunning, and hed fancied her instantly. But when, a year later, she announced she was pregnant, his first reaction was fear.
“Maybe not yet?” hed asked carefully, avoiding her gaze. “Youve only just started studying”
“Ill think about it,” shed replied softly.
Turns out, there was no time left to thinkwhether from inexperience or intent, Sarah had missed every deadline. Her parents came to meet the father of their grandchild, polite but distant, demanding nothing. Only as they left did her father mutter through gritted teeth, “Dont worry, well manage.”
Guilt and a dormant sense of responsibility pushed Simon to propose. He married without joy, only a vague feeling he was doing the right thing.
The first years were a struggle. He was still finishing his degree; she was at home with the baby. Money was tight, grandparents helped out, and Sarah never complained. She even picked up part-time work before graduating.
“Why bother?” Simon had asked, genuinely baffled. “That pocket change wont even cover mascara! Our daughters two and already in nursery or with your parentsshe barely sees you!”
“Then earn more!” Sarah shot back, steel in her voice for the first time. “Get a job at a private clinic!”
“With my experience? They wouldnt even hire me to mop floors!” he snapped.
Sarah never asked for anything for herself, but the criticisms piled up: Simon didnt help at home, didnt spend time with their daughter, didnt pull his financial weight. Classic young-family-in-London survival mode.
After graduating, she landed a full-time job and rocketed up the career ladderlate nights, business trips, office parties. The house grew quiet. Simon, meanwhile, spent more time with their daughter, telling himself, “Its fine, this work frenzy will pass.” It didnt. Sarah seemed to avoid home on purpose.
One evening, as she cooked dinner, he hugged her from behind and whispered, “Lets have another. A son.”
Sarah stilled, then gently pulled away. “Start earning properly first. Then well talk.”
Thats when Emily appearedyoung, cheerful, undemanding, an assistant from another department. She adored him, laughed at his jokes, was light and warm. His escape. He seriously considered leaving, held back only by thoughts of his daughter.
Years later, once Simon was earning well, the unthinkable happened: Sarah brought up a second child herself.
“On one condition,” he said, confident in his money and influence. “Family comes first. Work second. Ill provide.”
Sarah agreed. She got pregnant almost immediately and transformed. The house smelled of baking again; she softened, warmed. Simon was pleasedbut still snuck off to Spain with Emily, pretending it was a work trip. Emily knew nothing of the pregnancy. Classic move: Simon had convinced her he and Sarah slept in separate rooms.
Then Emily started acting oddtoo much perfume, sudden tears, side-eyeing his phone.
“Hows home?” she asked once, faux-casual.
“Same as ever,” he brushed off.
Then came *the visit*. Sarah turned up at his office for the first time in yearsto drop off forgotten documents. Emily saw the bump. The moment Sarah left, she erupted.
“You knew! You knew and said nothing!” she shrieked, loud enough for three floors.
“What? Calm down!”
“I wrote to your wife! A month ago! I told her everything!”
Simon demanded proof. She refused, but he wrestled her phone free. The message read: *”Simon and I love each other He deserves real love Dont stand in our way”*
Sarahs reply? Two words: *”Alright, Emily.”*
That was it.
Now he understood Emilys recent strangenessshed expected fireworks. Instead, Sarah had lived with him for a month, betraying nothing. No hint, no reproach.
Shaken, Simon dumped Emily on the spot and suggested she find another jobhe hadnt expected such treachery. She begged, wept, but he wouldnt lose his family.
That evening, he confessed. Sarah sat drinking tea in the kitchen.
“You knew?” he asked, heart hammering.
Sarah looked up, puzzled. “Knew what? About that girl? You were actually with her? I thought it was a joke or a crush. Didnt realise it was serious. If so, youre free to leave.”
She asked him to move out. He refused”Were having a baby!”swore it was over, and camped in the guest room. Sarah asked no questions but offered no forgiveness, speaking only when necessary. The baby came early, complications followed. Simon took leave, doted on his son, showered them all with gifts.
A year and a half later, convinced the nightmare was over, Sarah announced she was returning to work.
“We agreed!” he exploded. “Family first! James is barely walkingwait till hes three! Weve got the money!”
“That agreement,” she said coolly, “was in the past life. Before Emily.”
Simon surrendered. A nanny arrived. Life became a blur of calls, squabbles, brief truces.
Then, last year, he bumped into Emily. Memories flooded back; they grabbed coffee. Still single, still sweet. Guilt and foolish pride made him offer her a joba mate needed an assistant. She accepted.
A week later, they were at it again.
The end came six months later at a birthday party. Simons mate, tipsy, raved about his new hire:
“Emilys brilliant! Golden touch, easygoing, sharpwhereve you been hiding her, Si?”
Clueless about their history, he sang her praises in front of Sarah, who smiled, nodded, and said nothing. A week later, she handed Simon a stack of printoutstexts, screenshots, photos.
“Move out,” she said simply. “If you wont, the kids and I will.”
He left. Within a week, he wanted back. He brought toys, lavish bouquets. Sarah accepted gifts for the kids with frosty politeness; the flowers went by the door like a forgotten umbrella.
One night, he caught her alone.
“Just tell me what to do to fix this. Ill make it right. I dont want anyone but you. Emilys gone.”
Sarah eyed him blankly. “You still dont get it, do you? Emilys irrelevant. You broke us years ago, when you asked if Id consider an abortion. You married me out of guilt, tolerated me, while I kept trying to be enoughpretty enough, successful enough, domestic enough. But you, Simon, always just wanted someone easy. Im done trying. Go.”
He stepped outside, and it hit him. Sarah hadnt been stewing in resentment all these years. Shed just stopped loving him long ago. Her silence after Emilys letter wasnt forgiveness. It was a verdict, delivered quietly, and shed been waiting for him to read it ever since.
