The dim streets of Manchester guide Andrew home after a long day at work. He walks, lost in thought, but unease grips his heart. The windows of their fourth-floor flat are dark. “Where is she this time?” flashes through his mind. Andrew steps into the empty house, and the silence gnaws at his nerves. Before he can even kick off his shoes, the doorbell rings. Their neighbour, her face tight with worry, delivers the words that shatter his world: “Emma’s been taken by an ambulance.” Andrew freezes, refusing to believe what he’s heard. His life, full of mistakes and missed chances, collapses in an instant, leaving only pain and regret.
The thought strikes Andrew like thunder while he’s still outside. He stops, feeling the ground slip beneath him. “How could I have been so blind?” he thinks, bitter laughter catching in his throat. It had all been so obvious, yet he’d seen nothing. At home, Emma waited—the woman he once loved but long ceased to cherish. He pictures their usual exchange: her cool “You’re back?” as she turns away, not even glancing at him. “Eating in tonight?” she’ll ask, her voice stripped of warmth.
Emma used to cook with love—baking pies, collecting recipes, filling jars with homemade preserves. But in recent years, everything changed. For the kids when they visited, she still made an effort, but for Andrew? Not a trace of care. Her meals turned bland, as if made out of duty. When he couldn’t stomach it, he’d fry eggs or microwave a ready meal, biting back complaints. Emma would eat in silence, never thanking him. Her indifference cut deep, but he stayed quiet to avoid fights.
There was a time when Emma was different. Her tenderness, her quiet care, the way she’d press against him, sharing warmth like a gift. But those moments were long gone. Now her affection felt mechanical, a chore she resented. When had it started? Maybe when Andrew stayed out with mates while she waited alone at home? Or when he skipped picking her up from hospital after their youngest was born because he was “celebrating with the lads”? Back then, he’d shrugged it off—”It’s just a night out!”—but her wounded stare haunted him still.
Emma grew distant. She withdrew, stung by his sharp words, shutting herself away like a stranger. Andrew fumed—”I’ve got a right to speak my mind!”—but her silence hurt worse than shouting. When the kids visited, she lit up—bustling, cooking, smiling. With him? A wall. “Who’s she fooling?” he’d think. Life slipped by, their marriage an empty shell.
Andrew stopped going out years ago. Worked as an engineer, earned well, never eyed other women. But Emma didn’t seem to care. She earned just as much, stood on her own feet, took risks. Why stay? For the kids? They were grown. Andrew didn’t understand her. Once, he tried—then gave up. “If this is how she wants it, fine.” But deep down, he ached for a real marriage, for a wife who missed him when he left and smiled when he returned. For love that had long since faded.
And now, the crushing truth: she never loved him. Maybe never had. Andrew remembers wondering why a woman so clever, so capable, ever chose him. Maybe he was just convenient—tall, decent-looking, a safe bet. “Knew the kids would be handsome,” he thinks bitterly.
He steps into the dark flat, the stillness deafening. “Where is she?” Panic rises. The doorbell rings. The neighbour won’t meet his eyes.
“Andrew… the ambulance took Emma an hour ago—”
He runs through the streets, choking on tears. For the first time in his life, he prays:
“Please, don’t take her. What’ll I do without her? Just let her live—I’ll fix everything, I swear! I’ll go to church, I’ll change—just save her!”
But Emma is already gone. The hospital tells him her heart stopped in the ambulance. His world crumbles. Days blur. His children, friends, family speak, but their words don’t reach him. One thought pounds in his skull: “I never said sorry.”
Now Andrew lives alone. The kids begged him to move in, but he refused. He visits the small chapel nearby often. There, in the hush and scent of candle wax, he almost feels Emma beside him. The stone walls seem to cradle his grief. He gazes at the stained glass and whispers, “Forgive me for not seeing you.” But there’s no answer—only silence, his constant companion now.
