28October2025
Dear Diary,
I never imagined the day Id have to choose between my career and the woman I love. Emma slammed her mug off the kitchen table, the porcelain shattering against the wall and spraying cold coffee over the floor. The splinters scattered like confetti, staining the tiles.
Stop whining, love, youre acting like a child, I said, keeping my voice even, though my blood boiled. She glared at me, every nerve in her body screaming. I cant cancel this overseas assignment, you know that. Its tied to my promotion.
A promotion? she snapped, her cheeks flushing. Your promotion always comes before us! Remember you missed Michaels school play, didnt even call on my birthday despite my reminders? And now youre being sent off to Manchester for a project, while Michael needs an operation in two days!
London, I blurted instinctively before biting my tongue.
Even to the moon! Emma flailed her arms. You wont be there when the anaesthetic is given, when my son is terrified, when Im clinging to the walls in panicall because of some meaningless piece of paper with your signature!
I exhaled sharply, brushed the coffee from my cheek. My eyes were rimmed with dark circles, my beard unkempt, but my resolve remained stubborn as ever.
This contract is absurd, Emma. Its a stepping stone to the chief financial officer chair Ive been working toward for twenty years, maybe my whole life. Michaels operation is routinejust tonsils, not a brain tumour. Why are you so worked up?
Because what if something goes wrong? she pressed, nails digging into her palms. What will we do then?
Nothing will go wrong, I waved her off. Ive spoken to the surgeon personally.
What if something does go wrong? she demanded, her voice rising.
Sit down, love, I said, shrugging my shoulders. If anything happens, Ill catch the next flight and be there, just like when Kats appendix burst and you only called eight hours after the surgery was over.
She laughed bitterly. You crawled back when the operation was over, the doctors had already gone home, and you arrived like a hero at the last minute!
I shook my head. Im not rubber, Emma. I cant snap in half. I work like a man possessed to provide for us. Did you forget how you nagged me about the new house? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the garden is a mess, the tube is too far
Maybe we should have stayed in that council flat! she retorted, tears bristling. At least wed have had a decent husband and father who actually sees his children sometimes, not just on Sunday afternoons.
I collapsed onto the chair, my ninety kilograms slumping onto the seat. We agreed, didnt we? You stay at home with the kids, keep the house cosy. I grind at work, bring home the money. Whats changed? When did this become a problem?
She opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door burst openchildrens voices, backpacks thudding onto the floor.
Fine, well talk later, she muttered, slipping out of the kitchen with a forced smile that stretched her cheeks.
I opened my laptop. I had to finish the presentation before nightfall, but my mind was a foggy swamp, devoid of clear thoughts.
Later, after the children were asleep, Emma sat at the kitchen table scrolling through her phone, eyes vacant. Twentytwo years of marriage felt more like a spreadsheet: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When had it all become so complicated?
I entered the kitchen silently and took a seat opposite her.
Coffee? Emma asked without looking up.
Yes, thanks. Emma, we need to talk.
What about? she asked, clicking the kettle. Its obvious. Youre leaving in two days. Michael and I will go to the hospital alone.
I understand its hard for you, I said, placing my hands gently on her shoulders. But this is crucial for me.
Crucial for us? she replied, her eyes showing fatigue rather than anger.
Its all for you, I whispered. Everything I do is for you.
No, James, she said, shaking her head. Its all for youyour ego, your career. Were already on the back burner.
Its not true, I tried to argue.
It is, she snapped. When Michael talked about his operation he said, Good thing Dads away on business, otherwise Id be worried about his work. Hes eleven and already adjusting his life to my husbands schedule.
She reminded me of Katherines graduation, how Id promised to attend but never showed up, and of the miscarriage ten years ago when I flew back two days after she was discharged because a deal in China demanded my presence.
You never mentioned that, I said quietly.
What would that change? she shrugged. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and then do the same thing.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Maybe you should see a therapist.
Thats the problem, isnt it? Im the one whos dramatic? she retorted, standing abruptly. When was the last time you went to a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know Michaels form teacher? What about Katherines dissertation?
Silence fell. I poured a cup of teafar too strong, as always when shes upset.
I could take a summer holiday, I offered. We could go away as a family.
Kate is heading to Brighton with friends, and Michaels signed up for a football camp, Emma reminded me.
You could have told me before planning this! I snapped, for the first time feeling a hint of irritation.
You warned me twice. I said okay, plan it, well see later. We did plan.
I rubbed my eyes. Sorry, I cant remember.
What scares me most, Emma said, looking over my shoulder, is that Im starting to realise life is easier without you. When youre home I keep hoping youll be present in spirit, not just in body, and Im always disappointed.
What do you want from me? I asked. To quit my promotion? To quit my job?
I want a father, not a financial provider. I want a husband, not a roommate who occasionally sleeps over.
I cant abandon my career at fifty, I said firmly. Its too late to start over.
No one is asking you to quit, Emma replied. Just find balance.
Im trying! I raised my voice, then softened, remembering the sleeping children. I truly am, James. But you have to understand the responsibilities of my role
My role, my salary, my responsibilitiesyes, I know that song by heart, she interrupted. But the kids are growing, and youre missing them, and me too.
Its not fair, I said. Ive always tried to spend weekends with you.
When was the last time work wasnt urgent? she asked. Maybe once a month.
We fell silent. Outside, traffic rumbled, the house filled only with the ticking clock and the hum of the fridge.
I cant cancel the trip, I finally said. But Ill ask to move it a day later so I can drive Michael to the hospital.
You already bought the tickets, Emma reminded me.
Ill change them, I said resolutely. And Ill call every hour until they confirm the operation went well.
You think that will fix everything? she asked dryly.
No, I admitted. But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Emma. I truly dont.
Youre already close to losing us, she whispered. I dont know if it can be mended.
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and hurried footsteps. Emma sat in a hard chair outside the operating theatre, gripping the strap of her bag. Michael had been inside for over an hour, though the surgeon promised it would be a fortyminute procedure.
Katherine, glued to her phone, kept glancing anxiously at the doors.
Wheres dad? she asked suddenly.
You know hes on a business trip, Emma replied.
Right, but he promised to call.
Emma checked her watch. He must be in an important meeting, maybe he forgot.
Typical, Katherine muttered.
Just then the surgeon emerged, mask pulled down, smiling. All went well. The boy is in recovery, and well move him to a ward shortly. You can visit in an hour.
Relief washed over Emma; tears welled up. Katherine squeezed her mothers hand.
Should I call dad? she asked.
Yes, but his line goes to voicemail, Emma said, dialing. Ill text him.
She typed quickly: *Operation successful. Michael in recovery, doctors say hes fine.*
Five minutes passed, then half an hour, and still no reply. They sat in the cafeteria with tea and biscuits.
Are you and dad getting a divorce? Katherine asked, looking down at her mug.
Why would you think that? Emma asked, surprised.
We argue all the time, you both think the other cant hear, Katherine shrugged. And dad is never home. You always look sad when he leaves.
Emma stared at her daughter, amazed at how perceptive shed become. Were going through a rough patch, she said gently. But that doesnt mean we dont love each other.
Vicky from next class says the same, Katherine added. Her parents split up.
Emma didnt know how to answer. How do you feel about that? she asked.
Its weird. Id be sad if dad left, but hes hardly ever home anyway, so maybe not much would change, Katherine replied.
No ones leaving, Emma insisted, though she wasnt entirely sure.
The phone buzzed a message from me: *Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Michael? When can we visit?*
Dad wrote? Katherine asked, and Emma nodded.
He wants to know about Michael, she replied, sending back: *Can visit in thirty minutes. Video call?*
Sure, came the quick reply. As soon as Im free.
Emma set the phone down and sighed. Hes busy, isnt he? Katherine observed.
Hell call when he can, Emma said. You know your dad.
I know, Katherine whispered. Remember our trip to Cornwall when I was nine and Michael was three?
Of course, Emma smiled. You ate icecream every day and swam until you were blueskied.
And dad was with us the whole week, Katherine recalled. We went to the aquarium, took a boat ride, even hiked. Why cant that happen now?
I dont know, love, Emma admitted. Things have changed, probably for the worse.
Its gotten worse, Katherine sighed. Dad is always busy now.
Emma wanted to argue that James loved them and tried his best, but she held back. The truth was, things really had deteriorated.
When I finally got home, I found Emma alone, shoes off, bag on the nightstand. She poured herself a glass of water and stared out the window. My phone rang; I jumped.
Yes? I answered, weary.
Hey, my voice sounded hoarse. Hows Michael?
Fine, Emma replied. His temperatures a bit up, but the doctor says its normal. Katherines looking after him.
Thats good, I said. Hes lucky to have such a caring sister.
Indeed, Emma agreed. Lucky someones there.
A pause lingered.
Emma, you know Id fly over if I could, I began. But this deal
I get it, she interrupted. You dont need to explain further.
Its necessary, I insisted. You think I chose work over you, but that isnt true.
How then? she asked. Explain.
I I dont know how to put it into words, I stammered. It just happened. I got used to working so much it became part of me. I dont know any other way.
What about the family?
Youre everything to me, I whispered. Somewhere along the road I lost my balance, gave work too much of my time. I see that now, Emma, and I want to fix it.
What do you propose? she asked. Whats your plan?
Ive spoken to the board, I said. If I get the promotion, Ill have more people to delegate to, more free time.
If again, Emma said dryly. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill consider a different job or cut my hours, I replied firmly. Youre rightI’ve missed too much. I dont want to miss any more.
Emma stayed silent. Shed heard similar promises too often to trust them blindly.
I love you, I said, and I love the kids. I want us to be a family, not just four people sharing a roof.
I want that too, Emma answered, though uncertainty lingered. Im not sure its possible.
Lets at least try, I suggested. Ill genuinely try.
Emma looked at the framed photo on the tableour four of us on a sunny beach, laughing, five years ago. It felt like a different life.
Alright, she said finally. Lets try.
Thank you, I exhaled with relief. Ill call Michael before bed and fly over as soon as the paperworks done.
Okay, Emma nodded, though I could see the doubt in her eyes. I hung up and sat there, the photograph still burning in my mind. Would we make it? Could I truly change, or would I slip back into the old rhythmme at work, Emma with the kids, and endless waiting for a better tomorrow?
Michael later drew a picture of an airplanelarge, silver, with blue wings and black windows.
Look, thats Dads plane, he said, showing it to me. Hell fly back on that.
Beautiful, I replied. Hows your throat?
A bit sore, Michael admitted. But the doctor said I can have icecream.
For healing, right? I teased. Then lets get you some icecream. Dont tell Dad Im spoiling you.
I wont, he promised. Will Dad really come?
Of course he will, I assured him. He promised.
Michael thought for a moment. Im actually glad I had the operation. Now Dad will be with us.
I patted his head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. Yes, love, hell be here.
I dont know if Ill keep my promise. I dont know if our family will ever be as it once was. But for the first time in ages, I heard genuine intent in my own voicea desire to change. Perhaps thats enough for a beginning.
**Lesson:**Success means nothing if it costs you the people who matter most; the true measure of a life welllived is the balance you strike between ambition and love.
