Dear Diary,
I cant believe what I just heard. It feels like my brain is being torn apart. All those endless meetings, the urgent phone calls, the relentless business tripshow could he let them continue? Emma knocked her coffee mug off the table, and it smashed against the wall, splattering cold brew everywhere. The shards scattered across the floor like cheap confetti.
Stop being such a drama queen, Simon said calmly, his voice flat, which irritated me even more. My stomach was churning while he stood there like a statue. I cant cancel this assignment, you have to understand. Its tied to the promotion.
The promotion? I snarled, hot with anger. Your promotion always seems to outweigh us! Remember, you missed Katies graduation, didnt even bother to call on my birthday after I reminded you a week in advance! And now thisMilos operation is in two days, and youre being shipped off to York!
London, Simon blurted out reflexively, then bit his tongue.
Even to the Moon! Emma flailed her arms like a windmill. You wont be there when the anaesthetic is administered to our son, when hes terrified, when Im shaking against the walls out of fearall because of some pointless piece of paper you signed!
Simon let out a sigh, ran a hand over his face, the bags under his eyes deepening, his stubble uneven, but his stare remained stubborn as ever.
Its not a silly contract, he said. Its a chance to become finance director. Ive been working toward that forwhattwenty years, maybe more. Milos operation is routine, just tonsils. Its not a brain tumour.
Sure, sure, I snapped, claws digging into my palms. What if something goes wrong? What if there are complications?
It wont, he shrugged. I spoke to the surgeon personally.
And if it does? I pressed, already on the ultrasound of my worries.
Then Ill be on the next flight back, right away. Remember when Katies appendix burst? I got her to the operation just in time.
Yes, I remember, I retorted with a bitter smile. You showed up eight hours after the surgery was over. Doctors had already gone home, and you were just descending the stairs like a hero.
Simons head bobbed. Im not made of rubber, you know. I cant snap in half. Im working my backside off for us. You forgot how you nagged me about the new flat? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the courtyards a mess, the tubes far
Maybe we should have stayed in that old council house! Emma shouted. At least wed have a proper husband and father who actually sees his kids sometimes, not just on Sunday afternoons after lunch!
Simon flopped onto the chair, his ninety kilos collapsing onto the cushion.
We agreed, didnt we? You stay home, children, the household, the cosy life. Im the one grinding at work, bringing home the money. What changed? When did this become a problem?
I opened my mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door burst openkids shouting, backpacks thudding onto the floor.
Fine, well talk later, I muttered, slipping a forced smile onto my face, the kind that pulls at the corners of your mouth.
Simon booted up his laptop; I still had to finish a presentation before evening, but my mind was a fog of dead ends.
Later, after the kids were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table scrolling through my phone, feeling numb. Twentytwo years of marriage, and each year our relationship feels more like an accounting ledger: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When did everything get so complicated?
Simon came in quietly and sat opposite me.
Coffee? I asked without looking up.
Sure, he replied. Emma, we need to talk.
What about? I stood, flicking the electric kettle on. Everythings already obvious. Youre flying out the day after tomorrow. Milo and I will go to the hospital alone.
He reached for my shoulders gently. I know its hard for you. It really matters to me.
More important than us? I turned to him, seeing not anger but fatigue and disappointment in his eyes.
Its all for you, he whispered. Everything I do is for you.
No, Simon, I shook my head. Its all for you. For your ego, your career. Weve been pushed to the back for far too long.
Its not true, he tried to argue.
It is. When Milo talked about his operation, he said, Good thing its during dads business trip, otherwise hed be nervous about missing work. Hes eleven and already adapting his schedule to yours.
Simon stayed silent, speechless.
And Katie asked yesterday if youd come to her university graduation next year. Not because she wants to see you, but because she fears youll be busy with something important again.
Ill try to make it, he mumbled.
Trythats your standard response, I said, the echo of his promises ringing in my ears. Do you remember when you chose work over me? When I had a miscarriage ten years ago? You flew out two days later, after a meeting in Shanghai, while I was still in the hospital.
He started to explain, I had negotiations in China
You had negotiations, I nodded. And I lost a child, alone.
I turned to the coffee grinder, measuring out beans methodically.
You never talked about that, Simon said softly.
What would that change? I shrugged. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and then choose work once more.
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe you should see a therapist.
Of course, I smiled cynically. The problem is me, not that youve become a salarycushion for the family, but that Im not positive about it?
Thats not what I meant, he shook his head. Youre dramatising everything.
Dramatising? I snapped, turning sharply. When was the last time you actually attended a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know who Milos class teacher is? Whats Katie working on for her dissertation?
Simon stayed mute.
Its the same thing, I placed a fresh mug of coffee in front of him and sat down. Youve missed our life, Simon. And you keep missing it.
He sipped the coffee, grimacing at the bitternessexactly how I feel when hes upset.
I could take a summer holiday, he offered. We could go somewhere as a family.
Katie is heading to Brighton with friends, I reminded him. And Milo is signed up for a football camp.
You could have told me before you made plans! His voice finally rose with a hint of irritation.
I warned you, twice. You said fine, plan it, well see later. We did.
He rubbed his eyes. Sorry, I dont remember.
Whats scarier? I asked, looking over his shoulder. That Im beginning to realise Im better off without you. When youre home I keep hoping youll finally be presentnot just physically, but in spirit. And Im always let down.
What do you want from me? he asked. To give up the promotion? To quit?
I want our children to have a father, not just a paycheque provider. I want a husband, not a flatmate who only sleeps over occasionally.
I cant walk away from my career at fifty, he said firmly. Its too late to start over.
No ones asking you to quit. Just find a balance.
Im trying! He raised his voice, then lowered it, remembering the sleeping kids. I really am, Emma. But my role
My role, my salary, my responsibilitiesI know that song by heart. The kids are growing and you dont see them, and I dont see myself either.
Youre being unfair, Simon said, shaking his head. Ive always tried to spend weekends with the family.
When there wasnt an urgent deadline, I replied. Which, come to think of it, was about once a month.
We fell silent. Outside, traffic rumbled, while inside only the ticking clock and the hum of the fridge filled the room.
I cant cancel the assignment, Simon finally said. But Ill ask to push it back a day so I can take Milo to the hospital.
You already booked the tickets, I reminded him.
Ill change them, he declared. Ill call every hour until they confirm the operation went well.
I gave a dry chuckle. Do you really think that will solve everything?
No, he admitted. But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Emma. I truly dont.
The problem is youve already almost lost us, I whispered. I dont know if we can fix it.
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and shuffling feet. Emma sat on a hard chair outside the operating theatre, fidgeting with the strap on her bag. Milo had been inside for over an hour, though the surgeon promised it would be no longer than forty minutes.
Kat, glued to her phone, kept stealing worried glances at the theatre doors.
Wheres dad? she asked suddenly.
You know hes on a business trip, I replied.
He promised to call.
I glanced at my watch. He probably has an important meeting now, forgot.
Typical, Kat muttered.
I wanted to answer, but the theatre doors swung open and a surgeon in a green mask emerged, his chin shadowed.
It went well, he said, smiling. The boy is in recovery, should be moved to a ward soon. You can visit in an hour.
Thank you, doctor, I breathed, feeling a wave of relief and tears welling up.
Kat squeezed my hand tightly.
We should call dad, she said.
I fished out my phone, dialed, and hit voicemail. Hes not answering. Ill text him.
I typed quickly: Operation successful. Milos in recovery, doctor says hes fine.
No reply came in the next five minutes, nor in the half hour that followed while Kat and I sat in the staff kitchen sipping tea and nibbling sandwiches.
Mom, are you and dad getting a divorce? Kat asked suddenly, staring into her cup.
Why would you think that? I asked, startled.
Youre always fighting, as if we dont hear, she shrugged. And dads never home. You always look sad when he leaves.
I looked at my daughter, wondering when shed become so observant.
Were going through a rough patch, I said gently. It doesnt mean we dont love each other.
My friend Vicky from next year said the same, then her parents split, Kat replied.
I didnt know how to answer, so I asked, How do you feel about that?
I dont know. Its weird. Id be sad if dad left, but hes hardly ever home anyway, so maybe nothing changes.
No one is leaving, I said firmly, though deep down I wasnt so sure.
The phone buzzeda message from Simon: Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Milo? When can we visit?
Dad wrote? Kat asked, and I nodded. What does he say?
He asks about Milo, I typed back, We can visit in half an hour. Will you videocall?
Sure, came the reply. As soon as Im free.
I set the phone down and sighed. Hes busy, huh? Kat asked.
Hell call back when he can, I answered. You know dad.
I know, she said quietly. Do you remember our trip to the seaside when I was nine and Milo was three?
How could I forget? I smiled. You ate icecream every day and swam until you were bluelegged.
And dad was with us all week, Kat continued. We went to the aquarium, took a boat ride, even hiked in the hills. Why cant that happen now?
I dont know, love, I replied honestly. Things have changed, I guess.
Worse, Kat sighed. Now dads always busy.
I wanted to argue that Simon loves us and tries his best, but Kats words cut deep. It really had gotten worse.
When I finally got home, after leaving Kat to watch Milo, the flat was quiet. I slipped off my shoes, set my bag down on the nightstand, and made my way to the kitchen. I poured a glass of water and sat at the table, staring out the window.
The phone rang and I flinched. The display showed Simons name.
Hello? I answered.
Hey, his voice sounded weary. Hows Milo?
Okay, I said. His temperatures a bit up, but the doctor says thats normal. Kats staying with him.
Thats good. Hes lucky to have a caring sister, he replied.
Yes, its a relief he has someone there, I agreed. At least someone.
There was an awkward pause.
Emma, you know Id come if I could, he began. But this deal
I get it, I interrupted. You dont need to explain.
You do, he said firmly. You think I chose work over you, but thats not it.
So what then? I asked. Explain.
I He faltered. I dont know how to put it. It just happened. I got used to working so much that it became part of who I am. I dont know any other way.
What about the family?
Youre everything to me, he said quietly. Somewhere along the road I lost my balance. I spend too much time at work, too little with you. I understand that now, Emma, and I want to fix it.
How? I asked. What are you proposing?
Ive spoken to senior management, he said. If I get the new role, Ill be able to delegate more, have more free time.
If, I repeated. Always if. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill look for a different job, or cut my hours, he replied resolutely. Youre right. Ive missed too much. I dont want to miss any more.
I fell silent. Ive heard such promises too often to take them at face value.
I love you, Simon said. And the kids. I want us to be a family, not just people sharing a roof.
I want that too, I answered. But I dont know if its possible.
Lets at least try, he suggested. I promise Ill really try.
I glanced at the photo on the table: the four of us on a sunny beach, laughing, five years ago. It felt like a different life.
Alright, I said finally. Lets try.
Thank you, he exhaled with relief. Ill call Milo before I go to sleep, and Ill be there first thing after the paperwork is done.
Okay, I nodded, though he couldnt see me. Ill tell Milo.
After hanging up, I sat at the kitchen table for a long while, staring at that picture. Could they really turn things around? Would Simon actually change, or would the old pattern resumehim at work, me with the kids, endless waiting for a day when things might finally improve?
Milo drew a picture of an airplanebig, silver, with blue wings and black windows.
Look, thats dads plane, he said, showing it to me. Hell fly back on it.
Its beautiful, I smiled. How does your throat feel?
A little sore, he admitted. But the doctor said I can have icecream to help.
For healing, you mean? I teased. Then lets go to the cafe and get you some.
I wont tell dad Im spoiling you, Milo promised. Will dad really come?
Of course he will, I assured him. He promised.
He 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, I said. Dad will be with us.
I dont know if Simon will keep his promise. I dont know if our family can return to what it once was. But for the first time in ages I feel a flicker of hope.
Maybe people can change. Maybe work and family can coexist without one swallowing the other.
Maybe this time hell choose us, not his job.
Milo added a tiny figure to the drawing.
Thats dad, waving at us from the window, he said.
I smiled. Yes, thats dad. Hes coming home.
