Snowflakes Drifting Towards Each Other
After twenty years of marriage, many couples face strained moments. Kate and James were no exception.
“Twenty years with Jimmy—we’ve been through so much, raised our son Oliver, who’s now at university. I should call him, see how he’s managing on his own in that student flat. He never complains,” thought Kate, curled up in her armchair, wrapped in a blanket.
Their son had always been as stubborn as she was. They understood each other effortlessly—he was a reflection of her. She and James had never dared to have another child, though she’d once dreamed of two. Life had been too complicated, and now she was sure they’d made the right choice.
They’d met as students, married in their third year, and she’d had Oliver in their fourth. Thank goodness her mother had helped—she hadn’t needed to take a break from studies. Somehow, they’d managed to graduate together.
Money had been tight at first, but things improved over time. As the saying goes, “it all faded like smoke from a bonfire.”
James hustled his way into a top job at a prestigious firm, climbing the ranks steadily. Now he was deputy CEO. Kate hadn’t been as career-driven—she was happy as a manager in another office.
James had made his stance clear early on: “I could get you a job here, but I don’t want us working together. Look at Liam—his wife works with him, and now they fight constantly. She’s jealous of every woman who so much as glances at him.”
“Jimmy, I get it. Work is work, family is family. I feel the same,” Kate had replied, and he’d been relieved she understood.
James was a serious man—not one to chase other women. Still, like any man, he wasn’t immune to temptation. He’d never crossed the line, though—just harmless flirting now and then. Women sometimes threw themselves at him.
Kate couldn’t help her jealousy, and it sometimes exploded into arguments. Now she sat gripping her phone, staring at his slightly scruffy, familiar face on the screen as snow drifted silently outside.
The flat was quiet, his photo still smiling back at her. “Smiling, and yet it hurts,” she thought. “If only he’d call. I’ve felt out of place ever since I swallowed my pride and agreed to this trial separation. Now what? I could’ve smoothed things over, but no…”
Six months ago, James had told her: “The office is throwing a party for the company anniversary. The boss insists everyone brings their better half—so, my dear wife, get ready.”
“Oh, Jimmy, I’ll need a new dress. I want to look perfect.”
“Of course. When shall we go?”
“Let’s hit the shops this weekend,” she’d decided.
She’d chosen an elegant gown—so stunning James had been speechless when she tried it on with new heels.
“Blimey, Kate, you’re still a knockout!” he’d gasped.
“Well, what did you expect?” she’d laughed, tossing her hair.
Now, curled in her chair, Kate remembered that night, replaying one image: James charmingly dancing with female colleagues—especially the accountant, Sophie, in that clingy red dress, whispering in his ear, both of them laughing.
Kate had been left with his mate Liam, who’d recently divorced and wouldn’t stop rambling about his holiday in Thailand. She’d pretended to be fascinated. Later, at home, James noticed her mood but didn’t ask—she’d spill it soon enough.
Finally, after removing her makeup, she’d snapped: “I hated how you acted tonight. Why leave me with Liam all evening? Do you think I cared about his stories?”
“And did you expect me to stick to you like glue, ignoring everyone else? They asked me to dance—it wasn’t just me!”
“Yes,” she’d shot back, knowing she was being unfair but unable to stop. “Better that than ignoring your wife, schmoozing your boss, and twirling that accountant, Sophie.”
“Kate,” James sighed, slumping into a chair, “I’m exhausted by your jealousy. This isn’t the first time. Your accusations, your fits—it’s too much. You act like some paranoid, jealous lunatic.”
“Better paranoid than a womaniser,” she’d retorted.
“Fine. Maybe we need a break—some time apart.”
Tears burned, but Kate turned to the window. Pride stopped her from admitting she didn’t want this—that she loved him too much to lose him.
“I think so too,” she’d said.
Outside, thunder rumbled, lightning streaking the sky.
The next day, James packed a bag and left. Kate wanted to howl.
Often, alone at night, she wondered: “Should I have told Jimmy I loved him more? Should I have trusted him? Deep down, I never believed he’d cheat. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Now I see—it’s not a break. It’s the beginning of the end.”
Now, too late, she understood her mistakes. Funny how clarity only comes in hindsight.
Kate hadn’t even considered other men. To her, no one existed but James.
A soft white blanket of snow covered everything as New Year’s approached. Kate watched the flakes fall—rare for London, where wind usually blew them sideways. She loved winter’s pure white covering streets, rooftops, the whole city.
Her phone buzzed—her mum calling.
“Katie, love! How are you?”
“Hi, Mum. All good,” she lied.
“Your dad and I expect you and James for New Year’s—hopefully Ollie too. No excuses this time! We won’t break tradition,” her mum said cheerfully. Kate couldn’t bear to spoil the mood and agreed.
She cherished their New Year’s trips to her parents’ village in the Cotswolds. She and James would ski, then drink spiced tea by the fireplace, sprawled on a bearskin rug her dad had somehow acquired. They’d watch old films and stuff themselves with her mum’s mince pies.
After hanging up, guilt twisted her stomach. Her parents didn’t know about the separation—James was renting a flat nearby. She couldn’t ruin their holidays with the truth.
“Maybe I should call Jimmy,” she hesitated.
Finally, she dialled.
“Hi, James,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he replied, sounding bright. She ached at the sound of his voice.
“Mum called. They’re expecting us for New Year’s. I didn’t know what to say.”
“I don’t mind going,” he said cautiously. “But… what do we tell them about us?”
“We don’t,” she said firmly. “I won’t ruin their holidays. We’ll pretend everything’s fine. I’ll tell them later. Just… pretend you love me.” Her voice wavered.
“Alright,” James agreed. “We can do that.”
“Good,” Kate said, relieved. “I need to buy presents.”
“If you like, I’ll help,” he offered unexpectedly.
“Meet me at the shopping centre in two days,” she said, then hung up.
Her heart pounded. She hadn’t seen him since he left six months ago—no calls, no messages.
When they met, they drank in each other’s faces, eyes locking, smiles flickering.
“How’ve you been?” James asked.
“How do you think? Fine, I suppose.”
They shopped for gifts—her parents, her sister, Oliver. Kate laughed, chattered, happier than she’d been in months.
James drove her home, helped unload the bags. As she stepped out, she murmured, “Thanks for the lift.”
“Happy to help,” he said, watching her oddly.
What she wanted most was for him to follow her inside.
“Fancy a cuppa?”
“God, yes,” he exhaled, suddenly pulling her into a tight hug. “Yes. Very much.”
Kate looked up at the sky, smiling as snowflakes swirled towards her. She was happy—and so was James. He felt like he was soaring. Nothing else mattered.
