You chose your job over me, Anne shouted, her voice trembling with disbelief. I cant wrap my head around ityour damned work, the endless urgent calls, the constant trips! She swiped a coffee mug off the table; it slammed into the wall, spilling the halfdrunk brew everywhere. Coffee droplets scattered across the floor like confetti.
Stop losing it, youre being childish, Stephen said evenly, his calm only feeding Annes fury. Inside her, a storm roared, while he stood as still as a statue. I cant cancel this assignment, you have to understand. Its tied to a promotion.
A promotion? Annes anger made her choke. Your promotion always trumps us! Remember you missed Katies graduation, didnt even call on my anniversary after I reminded you a week ahead! And now thisMikes operation is in two days, and youre being whisked off to Manchester!
London, Stephen blurted automatically, then bit his tongue.
And to the moon if you like! Anne gestured wildly. You wont be there when our son goes under anaesthesia! When hes terrified, when Im pacing the walls in panicall because of some meaningless piece of paper with your signature!
Stephen exhaled sharply, brushed his hand across his face. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his beard was uneven, but his gaze remained stubborn as ever.
This contract isnt stupid its a chance to become chief financial officer. Ive been working toward it forwhattwenty years, maybe my whole life. Mikes surgery is routine, why are you shaking? Its just his tonsils, not a brain tumour.
What if something goes wrong? What if there are complications? Anne dug her nails into her palm. What then?
Nothing will happen, he waved off. I spoke to the surgeon personally.
What if it does? she pressed, already on the edge of a panic attack.
Sit down! he shrugged. If anything happens, Ill fly back on the next plane. Remember when Katie needed an appendectomy? You showed up hours after everyone else left, just as the surgeon was pulling the patient out.
Exactly! Anne laughed bitterly. You arrived when the operation was already over. The doctors had gone home, and you were the hero of the hour.
Stephen shook his head. Im not made of rubber, Anne. I cant split in two. Im working like a man possessed so you all have what you need. Didnt you hear my constant nagging about a new house? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the yard is filthy, the tube is far
Maybe we should have stayed in that cramped council flat! Anne snapped. At least wed have a decent husband and a father who actually sees his kids sometimes, not only on Sunday afternoons.
Stephen plopped onto a chair, his ninetykilogram frame crushing it.
We agreed, didnt we? You stay home with the children, run the household, keep things cosy. Ill grind at work, bring home the money. What changed? When did this become a problem?
Anne opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door burst open. Voices of the children flooded the hallway, schoolbags thumped onto the floor.
Fine, well talk later, she muttered, slipping out of the kitchen with a forced smile that tightened her cheeks.
Stephen opened his laptop. He still had to finish a presentation before evening, but his mind was a fog of useless thoughts.
Later, after the kids were asleep, Anne sat at the kitchen table scrolling through her phone, numb. Twentytwo years of marriage felt like an endless spreadsheet: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When had it all become so complicated?
Stephen entered silently and sat opposite her.
Coffee? Anne asked without looking up.
Yes, and we need to talk, he replied.
What about? she asked, flicking the kettles switch. Everythings already clear. Youre leaving in two days. Michael and I will go to the hospital alone.
Listen, Stephen placed his hands on her shoulders. I know its hard, but this matters to me.
More important than us? Anne turned, seeing fatigue rather than anger in his eyes.
Its all for you, he whispered. Everything I do is for you.
No, Stephen, Anne shook her head. Its all for youyour ego, your career. Were the ones on the back burner.
Its not true, he tried to protest.
It is. When Michael mentioned his operation, he said, Good thing its during dads business trip, otherwise Id be nervous about missing work. Hes eleven and already adapting to your schedule.
Stephen stood mute, words failing him.
And Katie asked yesterday if youd come to her university graduation next year. Not because she wants to see you, but because she fears youll be busy with important work again.
Ill try to be there, Stephen muttered.
Try, Anne echoed. Always try. Do you remember when you chose work over me after my miscarriage ten years ago? You flew back two days later, after a meeting in China, when I was still in the hospital.
My negotiations in China, Stephen began.
Yes, you had negotiations, Anne said. Meanwhile, I lost a child and was left alone.
She turned to grind coffee beans, the ritual soothing her.
You never talked about that, Stephen said softly.
What would that change? Anne shrugged. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and then do the same thing.
Stephen pressed his fingers to his nose. Maybe you should see a therapist.
Of course, Anne replied with a dry laugh. The problem is me, right? Not that youve become a cashmachine for the family, but that Im not positive about it?
Thats not what I meant, Stephen said, shaking his head. You dramatise everything.
Dramatising? Anne snapped, swivelling. When was the last time you attended a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know Michaels homeroom teacher? Whats Katie working on for her dissertation?
Stephen fell silent.
Thats what Im saying, Anne placed a cup of coffee before him and sat down. Youve missed our life, Stephen. And you keep missing it.
Stephen sipped, grimacing at the bitternessjust like the rest of Annes day.
I could take a summer holiday, he offered. We could go somewhere as a family.
Katies off to Brighton with friends, Anne reminded him. And Michaels signed up for a football camp.
You could have told me before you planned! Stephens voice finally showed a hint of irritation.
I warned you twice. You said fine, plan and well see. We planned.
Stephen rubbed his eyes. Sorry, I dont remember.
Whats scarier? Anne looked over his shoulder. That Im starting to think life is easier without you. When youre home I keep hoping youll be therenot just in body, but in spirit. And Im always disappointed.
What do you want from me? To give up the promotion? To quit?
I want our children to have a father, not just a paycheck. I want a husband, not a flatmate who only stays over occasionally.
I cant quit my career at fifty, Stephen said firmly. Its too late to start over.
No ones asking you to quit. Just find balance.
Im trying! he raised his voice, then lowered it for the sleeping kids. I really am, Anne. But you have to understand my role
In your role, with your salary, with your responsibilitiesI know the song by heart. The kids are growing, and you dont see them. I dont see you either.
Youre unfair, Stephen said. I always try to spend weekends with the family.
When was the last time you didnt have an urgent call? Anne asked. Roughly once a month, right?
Silence settled. Outside, traffic hummed; inside only the ticking clock and the refrigerators low whir.
I cant cancel this trip, Stephen finally said. But Ill ask to shift it a day later so I can take Michael to the hospital.
You already bought the tickets, Anne reminded him.
Ill change them, he said resolutely. Ill call every hour until they confirm the operation went well.
You think thatll fix everything? Anne smirked.
No, but its a start. I dont want to lose you, Anne. I truly dont.
The problem is youve already almost lost us, she whispered. I dont know if it can be repaired.
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and footsteps. Anne sat on a hard chair outside the operating theatre, fidgeting with her bag strap. Michael had been inside for over an hour, though the doctor promised the procedure would take forty minutes at most.
Katie sat nearby, eyes glued to her phone, occasionally glancing toward the doors.
Wheres dad? Katie asked suddenly.
You know hes on a business trip.
He promised to call.
Anne glanced at her watch. He must be in a meeting, probably forgot.
Typical, Katie muttered.
Anne wanted to answer, but the doors swung open and a surgeon in a green mask emerged, his chin bandaged.
It went well, he said, smiling. The boy is in recovery, will be moved to a ward soon. You can visit in an hour.
Thank you, Doctor, Anne breathed, tears of relief slipping down her cheeks.
Katie squeezed her mothers hand tightly. We should call dad, she said.
Anne dialed Stephens number, only to reach his voicemail. Hes not answering. Let me text him.
She typed quickly: *Operation successful. Michaels in recovery, doctors say all is well.*
Five minutes passed, then half an hour, as they sipped tea and nibbled biscuits in the waiting area.
Mom, are you and dad getting a divorce? Katie asked, staring into her cup.
Anne swallowed. Why would you think that?
Youre always fighting when you think we arent listening. Dads never home. You look sad whenever he leaves.
Anne stared at her daughter, surprised by the precociousness.
Were going through a rough patch, she said gently. It doesnt mean we dont love each other.
Vicky from next class said the same, Katie replied. Then her parents split up.
Anne didnt know how to answer. She asked, How do you feel about that?
I dont know. Its strange. Ill be sad if dad leaves, but hes hardly ever home anyway, so maybe not much will change.
No one is leaving, Anne said, though deep down she wasnt so sure.
The phone buzzed a message from Stephen: *Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Michael? When can we visit?*
Katie, dad wrote? Anne asked, nodding.
He asked about Michael, she replied, typing back: *You can visit in thirty minutes. Video call?*
Sure, came the quick reply. *Ill join as soon as Im free.*
Anne set the phone down, sighing. Hes busy, isnt he? Katie asked.
Hell call back when he can, Anne answered. You know dad.
I do, Katie said quietly. Remember when we went to the seaside when I was nine and Michael was three?
Of course, Anne smiled. You ate icecream every day and swam until you were blueeyed.
And dad was with us all week, Katie added. We went to the aquarium, took a boat ride, even hiked up the cliffs. Why cant that happen now?
I dont know, love, Anne admitted. Things have changed.
Probably for the worse, Katie sighed. Dads always busy now.
Anne wanted to argue that Stephen loved them and tried his best, but Katie was right. Things really had gotten worse.
When Anne finally got home, the flat was quiet. She slipped off her shoes, set her bag down, poured herself a glass of water, and stared out the window.
The phone rang, and her heart leapt. The screen displayed Stephens name.
Hello? she answered.
Hey, Stephens weary voice came through. Hows Michael?
Hes okay, Anne said. Temps a bit up, but the doctor says thats normal. Katies staying with him.
Thats good. At least hes got a caring sister, Stephen replied.
Exactly, Anne agreed. Its good he isnt alone.
A pause hung between them.
Anne, you know Id be there if I could, Stephen began. But this deal
I understand, Anne cut in. You dont need to explain.
You do, Stephen insisted. Because you think I chose work over you. Thats not true.
How then? Anne asked. Explain.
I Stephen stumbled. I dont know how to put it. It just happened. I got used to working so much it became part of me. I dont know any other way.
What about the family?
Youre everything to me, he said quietly. I lost my balance somewhere along the road, gave work too much time, you too little. I get that now, and I want to fix it.
What do you propose? Anne asked. Whats the plan?
Ive spoken to senior management, Stephen said. If I get the promotion, Ill be able to delegate more, free up time.
If, Anne repeated. Always if. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill consider a job change or cutting my hours, he said firmly. Youre rightIve missed too much. I dont want to miss any more.
Anne listened, having heard similar promises too often to believe them outright.
I love you, Stephen said. I love the kids. I want us to be a family, not just people sharing a roof.
I want that too, Anne replied. But Im not sure its possible.
Lets at least try, Stephen suggested. I promise Ill really try.
Anne looked at the photograph on the kitchen table: the four of them on a sunny beach, laughing, carefree. It was taken five years ago, in a different life.
Okay, she said finally. Lets try.
Thanks, Stephen exhaled, relief in his voice. Ill call Michael before I sleep, and Ill fly back straight after the contract is signed.
Alright, Anne nodded, though Stephen couldnt see her. Ill tell Michael.
She hung up and sat at the table, the photo staring back at her. Would they make it? Could Stephen truly change, or would the pattern repeathim at work, her with the children, endless waiting for a better tomorrow?
Michael drew a picture of an airplanelarge, silver, with blue wings and dark windows.
Look, thats dads plane, he said, showing it to Anne. Dad will come on it.
Beautiful, Anne smiled. How does your throat feel?
A bit sore, Michael admitted. The doctor said I can have icecream for treatment.
For treatment, huh? Anne winked. Then lets get you some icecream. Just dont tell dad Im spoiling you.
I wont, Michael promised. Will dad really come?
Of course he will, Anne assured him. He promised.
You know, Michael mused, Im actually glad I had the operation. It means dad will be with us.
Anne stroked his head, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
Yes, love, she said. Dad will be with us.
She didnt know whether Stephen would keep his promise. She didnt know if their family could return to what it once was. But for the first time in a long while she felt genuine hope.
Maybe people can truly change. Maybe work and family can coexist without one crushing the other.
Maybe this time hell choose them, not his career.
Michael added a tiny figure to the airplanes side.
Thats dad waving at us, he said.
Anne smiled. Yes, thats dad, and hes coming home.
