The hallway still smelled of damp shoes and a jacket that hadnt quite dried after the rain, hanging on the lower hook where Sarah had left a space for her son. James slipped in almost silently, his shortcropped hair neat, his dark uniform crisp. Sarah noticed his eyes were different not angry, just wary. She fussed with the welcome mat, gave a small smile and said, Come in everythings ready. Ive aired the room and put fresh sheets on the bed.
James gave a halfnod, the kind that could be thankyou or just good manners it was hard to tell. He set his suitcase against the wall, lingered at the doorway, and stared at the familiar faded diamondpatterned wallpaper and the shelf of childhood books. It all seemed the same, except the air was cooler now; the central heating had been switched off a week ago.
In the kitchen Sarah laid out plates: his favourite cabbage soup, as hed asked, and potatoes with herbs from the market. She tried to keep her tone level as she said, You could have called earlier I was expecting you at the station.
James shrugged. I wanted to get there on my own.
A silence stretched, broken only by the clink of a spoon against a bowl. He ate slowly, almost wordlessly, answering briefly about the road and the unit All good, the commander was a decent bloke. Sarah caught herself looking for a chance to ask about the future, but she didnt dare bring up work or plans directly.
After dinner she busied herself with washing the dishes the familiar movements soothed her more than any conversation could. James retreated to his room, leaving the door ajar; the only things visible from the hallway were the back of a chair and the edge of his suitcase.
Later he fetched a glass of water and paused by the livingroom window, where a draft from the halfopen sash reminded him that summer was on its way: the sun set late, spilling a gentle light across the windowsill dotted with potted herbs.
The next morning Sarah woke before James, hearing his soft breaths through the thin bedroom wall and trying not to clatter dishes unnecessarily. The flat felt tighter now; Jamess belongings had reclaimed their old spots in the hallway and bathroom, and his toothbrush beside Sarahs chipped mug looked oddly bright.
James spent most of the day at his computer or scrolling his phone, only emerging for breakfast or lunch. Sarah made a point of chatting about the weather or the neighbours; he answered in snippets, then slipped back into his own world.
One afternoon she returned from the market with fresh dill and spring onions. Look! Your favourite herbs she announced. James glanced, distracted, Thanks maybe later? The greens wilted on the table as the flat grew warmer, and Sarah hesitated to open the windows James had always hated draughts.
Evenings became a series of awkward pauses at dinner, the silences stretching longer than the conversation. He rarely praised the food, usually just ate in silence or asked to keep his plate for tomorrow his appetite seemed to have taken a holiday. Occasionally hed forget to clear his cup or leave the breadbox open after a midnight snack.
Sarah noticed these small shifts; hed never needed a reminder to clear the table before. Now she felt uneasy scolding a grown man, so she quietly wiped crumbs herself. Little mishaps multiplied: a towel vanished from the bathroom James had taken it to his room; the postbox key ended up in the junk drawer, prompting a joint treasure hunt among bags and receipts.
One morning she opened an empty breadbox and said, We need to buy some bread James muttered something from his room, Fine She planned to pop out after work, but a queue at the pharmacy delayed her, and she returned home exhausted just as twilight fell.
Standing by the fridge, phone in hand, James looked up as Sarah opened the breadbox out of habit and found it empty. She sighed, You said youd get bread? James snapped, a little louder than usual, I forgot! Ive got my own things to do!
A flash of irritation broke through Sarahs fatigue. Of course you always forget! Their voices rose, the kitchen feeling suddenly suffocating. Both tried to prove a point, but underneath lay something else entirely: exhaustion, the fear of losing the easy closeness they once took for granted.
When the argument faded, the flat fell quiet, as if the angry energy had been sucked out into the night. The desk lamp cast a thin shadow over the empty breadbox. Sarah lay on her back, listening to the occasional click of a switch and the hum of water in the bathroom. James moved carefully, as if afraid to disturb the newly strange, familiar walls.
She recalled their talks before his service back then it was simple: you could ask straight, scold for a missed bin or a late dinner. Now every word seemed a minefield, a chance to upset the delicate balance. Behind the shouting lay sheer weariness hers from a long workday, his from weeks of confinement behind four walls.
The clock ticked close to two in the morning when she heard light footsteps in the corridor. The kitchen door creaked; James poured water from a jug. Sarah propped herself on an elbow, debating whether to stay in bed or go down. She slipped on a robe, barefoot on the cool floor.
The kitchen still smelled of damp cleaning cloth shed wiped the counter the night before. James stood by the window, his shoulders slightly slumped, a glass clenched in his hand. Cant sleep? she whispered. He flinched, then answered without turning, Cant either
A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by a droplet sliding down the glass of the jug. Sorry about tonight I overreacted, Sarah said. Youre tired so am I. James turned slowly, his voice hoarse from disuse, Im to blame everything feels odd now. He avoided her eyes.
Another pause, then the tension eased with those simple words. Sarah pulled a box of tea into reach a reflexive, soothing gesture. Youre an adult now, she said gently, I need to learn to let you go a bit Im scared Ill drop the ball or do the wrong thing.
James met her gaze, I still dont get how to be here Back in the unit it was: they said, we did. At home its a different game. It feels like the rules changed without me.
She smiled at the corners of her mouth, Were both learning to live together again maybe we should sort something out? He shrugged, We could try. The prospect of a compromise lifted a weight off her shoulders.
They agreed on the basics: James would buy bread every other day, Sarah would handle the dishes after dinner, and theyd each have a little evening alone without interrogation. It was only the start of a new routine, but saying it out loud felt honest and calm.
Sarah asked about his job prospects, You said you were looking? Do you still have your service record? James nodded, Yeah, the discharge papers are in my rucksack with my service certificate just not sure where to go next. She mentioned the local Jobcentre, the free advice, the programmes for exmilitary folk. Think youll give it a go? she asked. He hesitated, Maybe if youll come with me for company, or at least help sort the paperwork.
Lets try together first, he said after a pause. The kitchen seemed a shade warmer perhaps because the overhead light was off, leaving only the soft lamp glow, perhaps because they had finally spoken plainly. Outside, neighbours windows flickered with latespring lights; some apartments were still awake.
When the conversation wound down on its own, they cleared the cups and wiped the counter together. Morning slipped in through heavy curtains, bathing the flat in gentle light. The street below stirred slowly, schoolchildrens chatter and birdsong drifting through the slightly open kitchen window this time, opening the windows no longer felt like an invitation for a cold draft.
Sarah boiled the kettle and pulled out a packet of toasted oat biscuits for breakfast, a substitute for the missing loaf. She laid out Jamess documents on the table: the redcovered service card, the discharge certificate, his passport. She looked at them calmly they were now symbols of a fresh chapter, beginning right there in their flat.
James emerged from his room, still a little sleepy but without the old distance. He sat opposite his mother, gave a brief smile and said, Thanks, Mum. She returned the simplicity, Shall we head out together today? He nodded. That yes meant more to her than any grand promise.
