– You’re not going to be late, are you? What time are you leaving, Jim?! Jim… — Chloe tugged at her husband’s shoulder, but he brushed her off, his whole demeanor making it clear he had no intention of waking up just yet and wouldn’t be late.
Chloe glanced at her phone screen—only seven in the morning.
*Why did I get up so early on a Saturday?! There’s nothing to do, and I packed his bag yesterday…* she thought, even considering crawling back under the cozy duvet. But then…
Then that same nagging sense of unease washed over her again—the one she’d been feeling more and more lately. On the surface, there was no reason to worry: her husband was right there, they had a flat in the city center, a modern refurb, designer furniture, expensive appliances. Jim had his own car, and Chloe—hers. They’d even bought a countryside cottage recently. Everything was perfect, really.
Plenty of people would kill for a life like this. *Try living in a rented flat, commuting by bus, juggling work with kids’ homework, cooking for the whole family, paying off loans, school fees… By the time you hit the pillow, the alarm’s already ringing, and it’s all the same cycle again. You think you’ve got problems? What problems? Some silly gut feeling? Ha!*
But this wasn’t just any feeling. Chloe had learned to recognize it. A deep, pointless dread, a hollow ache, a premonition of disaster, the crushing sense that something vital was slipping away. It came without warning and left just as suddenly, vanishing for a while before creeping back.
Now, on this quiet morning, the unsettling feeling barged into her heart uninvited. Chloe got out of bed, gave her sleeping husband one last look, and headed to the kitchen. Jim was off on another business trip today. Lately, they’d become endless. A new boss had joined his firm about a year and a half ago—decent raise, big company, plenty of prospects. Jim was a department head now, one of the top employees. But the job ate up all his time, and worse, they’d started sending him away on weekends.
After making breakfast, Chloe returned to the bedroom to wake him.
– Jim, are you getting up or what?! Come on, or you’ll miss your train. You said you were leaving after lunch, right?
– Yeah, after…—Jim mumbled, half-asleep, before finally dragging himself upright.
– Come on, breakfast’s ready.
– Mm-hmm. — Still groggy, he followed her to the kitchen.
Over breakfast, Jim immediately buried himself in his phone. Chloe noticed that lately, they barely spoke—like strangers under the same roof. Not that they argued. On paper, everything was fine—he still brought her flowers sometimes, agreed when she suggested dinner out. They went for walks, visited friends, caught films. But it wasn’t the same.
– Jim, why don’t you take me with you this time? — Chloe blurted.
– Mm-hmm. — Eyes glued to his screen, Jim barely registered her words.
– Seriously, what’s the big deal? You’ll be in a hotel, right? You’ll work during the day, but evenings we can spend together.
– What?! No, absolutely not! — He snapped to attention, finally processing what she’d said.
– Why not? You’re driving, aren’t you?
– Yeah, but what’re you going to do there? It’s the weekend—just relax at home. I’ll be back Monday or Tuesday.
– Explore! I’ve never been to that town. I could shop, visit museums…
– Oh, come off it! It’s a dump, nothing to see. Don’t we have enough shops here? They’re on every corner!
– Jim, I’m *bored* here. I won’t get in your way… — she whined.
– Chloe, no! If you want a holiday, book yourself a trip! — he snapped.
– Alone? I actually want to spend time with *you*. Or have you forgotten we’re married?
– Here we go again! I’ve told you a hundred times—work’s insane right now! The boss is riding us hard! You think I *want* to work weekends?!
– Funny, seems like he only ever asks *you*! Last Saturday, I saw your colleague Robinson with his wife and kids at the mall. But *you* were working! — She hadn’t meant to pick a fight, especially before a trip, but the words tumbled out.
– Oh, so now we’re keeping score? Thanks for breakfast! — Jim shoved his chair back and stormed to the bathroom.
Chloe tidied up while Jim lounged in front of the telly. Then she packed him sandwiches and tea for the road.
– Chloe, where’s my bag? — Jim called from the hallway.
– On the dresser. — Her voice was flat.
– Right. I’m off. Don’t be mad—there’s honestly nothing there for you.
– Fine. Wasn’t planning on it. Bye.
Jim left. Chloe stayed. Saturday—she could call a friend, meet up, grab dinner somewhere cozy.
But who? Julie was married with two kids—no chance. Marie and her husband had bought a cottage and were practically living there—no way she’d come back just for a night out. Lexi had moved to London ages ago—radio silence since. Everyone had their own lives, responsibilities, families…
Chloe was nearly thirty-eight. No kids. One youthful mistake—a termination. Back then, she and Jim had just moved in together, scraping by in a rented flat on graduate salaries.
She got pregnant. Told Jim. He said it wasn’t the right time. Against her instincts, she agreed—they were drowning as it was. What kind of life could they give a child? Now, though? Different story. A baby would’ve given her purpose, filled the loneliness, maybe even saved her marriage.
Their child would’ve been fourteen by now.
– Wonder what they’d be like… — Chloe whispered aloud, then burst into tears.
She splashed water on her face in the bathroom, studying her reflection.
– No. This ends now. I’m calling Vicky! — She forced a smile at the mirror.
Back in the kitchen, she dialed.
– Vicks, hi! — she chirped.
– Oh… Chloe, hey. What’s up? — Vicky’s voice was oddly stiff.
– Fancy a coffee or some shopping? You free?
– Uh… Can’t. Bit under the weather.
– Oh. Cold?
– Yeah, something like that…
Chloe went shopping alone. Dull. Then, a brilliant idea—visit sick Vicky. No husband, parents out of town.
She bought pastries, groceries, medicine, hailed a cab.
*She’ll be thrilled! A surprise visit’ll perk her right up. Might even stay over!*
She rang the bell.
The door swung open.
Jim stood there.
For a second, Chloe froze.
– Jim… what are you doing here? — Her voice cracked.
He didn’t answer. Just stared, paralyzed.
– Jimmy, who is it? — Vicky’s voice floated in. Then she appeared.
Silence.
– Right. Courier. Here’s your stuff. Get well! — Chloe thrust the bags at Jim, turned on her heel.
She called another cab, waited outside. Minutes later, Jim emerged.
– Let’s go home. We need to talk. — He marched toward his car.
– Why? What’s left to say? Go back upstairs—she’s waiting! That strict boss of yours… How long’s this *business trip* been going on? — She wiped her cheeks.
A cab pulled up.
– Just so you know—I don’t want to see you at our flat again.
Chloe left. Jim stayed.
– Drop me by the promenade, please.
The driver obliged. Chloe walked along the dimly lit waterfront.
*This. This was it. The thing gnawing at her, finally out in the open.* She’d *known*—something was wrong. But she’d ignored it.
No tears now. Just the distant glow of streetlights.
– Oh, sorry! — A man’s voice. A brush against her shoulder.
– *Leo?!*
– Chloe? Can’t believe it!
Leo—her childhood friend. Same nursery, same school. Then he’d joined the army. They’d written letters. Then she met Jim. Leo settled where he’d been posted. Married, she’d heard. Lost touch.
– How long’s it been?
– Ages! Is this your daughter? — A girl, about nine, stood beside him.
– Yeah—this is Katie. Say hello, love.
– Hi.
– I’m Auntie Chloe.
– I’m Katie.
– Nice to meet you, sweetheart.
– Listen, we’re heading to that café—just over there. Join us?
– Love to!
As years passed, Chloe often thought about how that chance meeting by the promenade had given her the family she’d always longed for.
