**”I Thought You Wouldn’t Come Back…” – A Story of Return**
When Andrew walked through the door after work, he dropped his bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight to the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked out of habit.
Penelope didn’t even turn around.
“Nothing. Not that it matters. I spoke to the landlord today. Told her we’re moving out by the end of the month.”
Andrew froze.
“What? We haven’t even found another place yet.”
“Why bother?” She turned to him with a smile. “We’re moving in… with your ex-wife, Emily.”
He sank into a chair, stunned.
“Penny, have you lost your mind?”
“Not at all. You’ve said yourself that half the flat is still yours. We’ll save money, I’ve already found a nursery for Oliver nearby, and the shops are just round the corner.”
Andrew felt the air leave his lungs. He hadn’t felt in control of his life for months. His job paid less now, the construction project he’d pinned his hopes on had been delayed, and money was running painfully thin.
Things with Penelope had been rocky for a while. She was younger, demanding, and used to luxury. Once, it had been thrilling. Now, it was exhausting.
He hesitated for days, but eventually, he called Emily.
“We’re in a tight spot. Need somewhere to stay for a couple of months.”
“It’s your flat too, Andrew. Of course, come over,” she replied calmly.
When they arrived, Penelope glanced around and wrinkled her nose.
“Bit gloomy,” she muttered, walking through the rooms in her shoes. “It’ll do.”
Emily said nothing. But when it came to the kitchen, she laid down the rules.
“We take turns with cleaning. Cook our own meals. Fridge is shared but with separate shelves.”
Penelope scoffed.
“We didn’t sign up for house rules!”
“And we didn’t sign up to run a boarding house,” Emily answered evenly.
The next month was hell. Penelope needled Emily at every turn, hinting she should leave. But Emily held her ground. Andrew stayed silent—he knew this mess was his fault.
One evening, Emily announced, “I’m going to my parents’ for a break. Just… please don’t wreck the place.”
Penelope barely hid her triumph. The next day, she started in again.
“I’ve ordered a designer scheme, picked the tiles—need to pay the deposit.”
Andrew snapped.
“Have you gone mad? We never discussed this! I’m not paying a penny!”
“And who are you to decide?” she shot back. “You’re not much of a husband—just a wallet, and an empty one at that.”
That night, she packed her bags.
“Oliver and I are going to Bristol. If you want us back, come get us. And bring money.”
Silently, Andrew pulled out his card and tossed it into her bag.
“I’ll see my son on Sundays.”
When the door closed behind them, he felt free for the first time in years. He stood by the window, watching the river for a long time.
A week later, Emily returned. Quietly, as always. He heard the bath running and rushed in, forgetting there was anyone else in the flat now.
“Sorry…” he mumbled when he saw her.
She moved past him to the kitchen. Without turning, he said, “I think… I still love you.”
“And I, Andrew. But we can’t go back. Only start over.”
“I’m willing,” he whispered.
“Willing, he says,” she smirked. “Feels like I’ll be supporting you all over again. Go on then, hungry?”
“Starving. Haven’t eaten all day.”
“Then peel the potatoes. Around here, we do things ourselves, you know.”
