In the hallway a faint smell of wet shoes and a stilldamp coat hung on the lower hook, the space for the son left empty. He slipped in almost silently: compact, shortcropped hair, dressed in a neat dark uniform. Margaret noticed his eyes had changedno longer hard, but wary. She hurriedly smoothed the rug by the door and gave a small smile.
Come in everythings ready. Ive aired your room and put fresh linens on the bed, she said.
He nodded, a gesture that might have been gratitude or simply politeness, hard to tell. He set his suitcase against the wall and lingered in the doorway, eyeing the familiar wallpaper with faded diamonds and the shelf of childhood books. It seemed everything stayed the same; only the air felt coolerheating had been switched off a week earlier.
In the kitchen Margaret laid out plates: cabbage soup, as hed asked, and potatoes with herbs bought from the market. She tried to keep her voice even.
You could have called earlier I was expecting you at the station, she said.
James shrugged. I wanted to get there myself.
A silence stretched, broken only by the clink of a spoon against a bowl. He ate slowly, almost without speaking, answering briefly about the road, the base, the commandereverything was fine. Margaret caught herself looking for a reason to ask about his future, but she didnt dare bring up work or plans directly.
After dinner she turned to cleaning the kitchenher familiar motions steadier than any conversation could be. James retreated to his room, the door left ajar, revealing only the back of a chair and the edge of his suitcase.
Later he stood by the livingroom window, a light draft from the cracked pane reminding him that summer was beginning: the sun set late, casting a soft glow on the windowsill where potted herbs rested.
The next morning Margaret rose before James. She heard his quiet breathing through the thin bedroom wall and tried not to clatter dishes. The flat felt tighter: Jamess belongings reclaimed their old spots in the hallway and bathroom; his toothbrush beside her chipped mug looked oddly bright.
Most of the day James spent at his computer or scrolling his phone, emerging only for breakfast or lunch. Margaret attempted small talk about the weather or neighbours; he replied with halfhearted answers and then slipped back to his screen.
One afternoon she returned from the market with fresh dill and spring onions.
Look, your favourite herbs, she said.
He glanced at them, distracted. Thanks later?
The greens wilted quickly on the tableby evening the flat grew warmer, and Margaret hesitated to open the windows fully; James had always hated draughts.
Evenings were spent at dinner, the pauses growing longer than the conversation itself. James rarely praised the food, often leaving his plate untouched or asking to keep it for breakfasthis appetite was gone. Sometimes he forgot to clear his cup or left the bread tin open after a midnight snack.
Margaret noticed these small slips; before, hed cleared the table without being told. Now she felt awkward chastising an adult man, so she quietly wiped the crumbs herself.
Minor mishaps multiplied unnoticed: a towel vanished from the bathroomJames had taken it to his room; a set of mailbox keys were misplaced, prompting a frantic search through bags and bills.
One morning she found the bread tin empty.
We need to buy more bread, she remarked.
James muttered something from his room. Alright
She planned to shop after work but got held up in a long pharmacy queue and returned home exhausted by dusk.
In the kitchen James stood by the fridge, phone in hand. Margaret opened the bread tin automatically: nothing inside. She sighed wearily.
You said youd get bread, didnt you? she asked.
James turned sharply, his voice louder than usual. I forgot! Ive got other things to do!
Embarrassment flushed her face; irritation slipped out despite her fatigue.
Of course you always forget everything! she snapped.
Their voices rose in turn. The cramped kitchen suddenly felt suffocating. Both tried to argue their side, yet beneath it all lay fatigue, a fear of losing the closeness that had once seemed effortless.
Silence settled as the arguments energy dissipated into the night air. A dim desk lamp cast a long shadow over the empty bread tin. Margaret lay on her back, listening to sporadic sounds: a switch clicking, water humming in the bathroom. James moved cautiously, as if afraid to disturb the newfound foreignness of the walls that were now both familiar and strange.
She recalled the conversations before his servicethings were simpler then; she could ask straight, scold for a missed bin or a late dinner. Now every word felt risky: not to offend, not to upset the fragile balance. Their tirednesshers after a days work, his after long stretches of silence in the barrackshung heavily between them.
The clock neared two in the morning when she heard soft footsteps in the corridor. The kitchen door creaked; James poured water from a jug. Margaret propped herself on an elbow, torn between staying in bed and getting up. She chose the latter, slipped into a robe and padded barefoot across the cool floor.
The kitchen smelled of damp clothshe had wiped the countertop the night before. James stood by the window, back to the door, shoulders slightly slumped, his hand gripping the glass.
Cant sleep? she asked quietly.
He shivered slightly but didnt turn right away. Cant either
A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by a single drop of water sliding down the jug.
Sorry about this evening I raised my voice for nothing, Margaret said. Youre tired and I am too.
He turned slowly. Im to blame everything just feels odd now.
His voice was hoarse from disuse; he avoided her eyes.
They fell quiet again, but the tension eased with those simple words. Margaret slid a box of tea toward hima gesture both automatic and soothing.
Youre an adult now, she said gently. I need to learn to let you go a bit further Im always scared Ill drop something or do it wrong.
James looked at her, his expression softening. I still dont know how to be here At the base it was simple: they tell, I do. At home its different. It feels like the rules have changed without me.
Margaret smiled at the corners of her mouth. Were both learning to live together again maybe we should agree on a few things?
James shrugged. We can try
Relief washed over her at his willingness to find common ground. They agreed aloud on basics: he would buy bread every other day, she would handle the dishes after dinner, and each would have a little personal time in the evenings without questions of where are you going or what are you doing. Both understood it was only the first step, but honesty and calm had set the stage.
Margaret then asked about his plans. You wanted to look for work, right? Do you still have your service discharge papers?
James nodded. Yes. Theyre in my rucksack with my service certificate I just dont know where to start.
She mentioned the local Jobcentre, the free advice and programmes for veterans. James listened cautiously.
Think its worth a go? he asked.
Why not? If you like, I can come with you tomorrow, just for company or to help sort the paperwork, she offered.
He thought for a long moment, then said, Lets try together first.
The kitchen grew a little warmerperhaps because the overhead light over the stove was switched off, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp, perhaps because they had finally spoken calmly and honestly. Outside, neighbouring houses flickered with lights; some residents were still awake in the latespring night.
When the conversation ended on its own, they cleared their cups and wiped the countertop with a damp rag.
Morning greeted them with gentle light through heavy curtains; the city outside woke slowly, schoolchildrens voices and birdsong drifted in through the open kitchen windownow it felt safe to let the air in. The chill of the night faded along with the anxiety of the past days.
Margaret boiled a kettle and pulled a packet of toast from the cupboard for breakfast, replacing the missing loaf. She laid out Jamess documents on the table: his discharge card in a red cover, his service certificate, and his passport. She regarded them calmly; they now marked the beginning of a new chapter for him, right here, right now.
James left his bedroom, still a little sleepy but no longer distant. He sat opposite Margaret, gave a brief smile and said, Thank you
She replied simply, Shall we go together today?
He nodded. That yes meant more to her than any promise could.
In learning to speak openly, to share chores, and to support each others steps forward, they discovered that even the toughest transitions become manageable when honesty lights the way. The true lesson: love isnt about never arguing, but about finding the courage to listen, forgive, and build a steady rhythm together.
