The dream unfolded in flickering fragments, like light through a train window.
*»I can’t take this anymore! Every night, the same thing!»* Sarah slammed the plates into the sink, the porcelain clattering like broken teeth. *»He comes home silent, eats silent, disappears into his study for hours. Like a stranger!»*
*»Mum, calm down,»* said Emily, setting her phone aside. *»Dads just going through a rough patch at work. You know how it is.»*
*»A rough patch?»* Sarahs hands flew up, scattering droplets of dishwater. *»Three months of this rough patch! Your father used to talk to me, tell me everything. Now? A wall. And those strange calls he takes in whispers…»*
Emily shifted in her chair, her gaze flickering to the phone left facedown on the table.
*»Youre overthinking it. Hes just tired.»*
*»Tired,»* Sarah echoed. *»He wasnt tired for twenty-five years. Always had time for us. Now?»* The words dissolved. She scrubbed the already-clean pot with unnecessary force. Emily sighed, pocketed her phone, and retreated to her room. Sarah watched her go, unease coiling in her chest.
Something was wrong. Markalways so open, so presenthad become a ghost in his own home. He avoided her eyes, lingered at work, spoke in clipped sentences. Hiding something.
*»Another woman?»* The thought slithered in, but she batted it away. Not Mark. Never. Then what?
Later, as she wiped down the hallway mirror, the front door clicked open.
*»Evening,»* Mark muttered, toeing off his shoes. *»Late again.»*
*»As usual,»* Sarah forced a smile. *»Hungry?»*
*»Not really.»* His eyes darted past her. *»Emily home?»*
*»Upstairs. Mark can we talk?»*
*»About what?»* He finally met her gazeexhaustion and something darker, like fear, swimming beneath.
*»About us. About whatevers happening. Youve been so distant»*
*»Not tonight, love.»* He squeezed her shouldera touch that once comforted, now a dismissal. *»Proper knackered.»*
Without waiting, he knocked on Emilys door, slipped inside. Sarah stood frozen in the hall, the silence pressing in.
That night, she lay awake, listening to Marks steady, artificial breaths. He wasnt sleeping. Neither was she. She wanted to reach out, demand the truthbut fear of the answer kept her still.
Morning came. Mark left for work. Emily slept in (second lecture at uni wasnt till noon). Sarah cleanedscrubbing, dusting, vacuumingtrying to fill the hollow inside.
In Emilys room, she straightened the duvet, gathered stray jumpers. The phone, forgotten on the desk, buzzed. She reached to plug it inno passcode, Emily never locked itand the screen lit up. An open chat with Dad.
She shouldnt look.
But the message glowed, undeniable:
**»Dad, you have to tell Mum. She deserves to know.»**
Her heart stuttered. *Know what?*
She told herself to stop. Her fingers didnt listen.
**Mark:** *»Em, I cant. Shes only just recovered from your nans stroke.»*
**Emily:** *»This is different! The doctors said the odds are good!»*
**Mark:** *»Still. Chemo, surgeryshell lose it with worry.»*
The words blurred. *Chemo? Surgery?* Her hands trembled.
Further up, older messages:
**Mark:** *»Need your help. Dont tell Mum.»*
**Emily:** *»Whats wrong?»*
**Mark:** *»Remember my stomach pains? Tests came back. Bad. Seeing an oncologist.»*
Sarah sank onto the bed. The walls breathed in and out.
The door creaked. Emily stood there, sleep-rumpled, eyes widening at the phone in Sarahs hands.
*»Mum? Whatre you»*
*»Emily.»* Sarahs voice was paper-thin. *»Whats wrong with your father?»*
Emilys face crumpled. *»Hell kill me.»*
*»Emily. Please.»*
And the truth spilled outthe pains, the tests, the oncologist. Pancreatic cancer.
*»He didnt want to worry you,»* Emily whispered. *»Not after Nan. Wanted to wait for the biopsy. Its tomorrow.»*
Sarah stared out the window. A normal London morningsun, pigeons, double-deckers rolling past. A normal day her world had cracked open.
*»Mum? Are you furious?»*
*»At who?»* Sarah turned. *»You? For keeping his secret? Or him? For shutting me out?»*
*»Both, maybe.»*
*»You shouldve told me,»* Sarah said softly. Then, firmer: *»Which hospital? What time?»*
*»The Royal Marsden. Ten.»*
Sarah nodded. *»Right. Lets make his favourite for dinner. Bet hell be starving.»*
That evening, Mark entered to the scent of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
*»Special occasion?»* He eyed the table, then Emily, who studied her nails.
*»Just fancied it,»* Sarah said, pouring wine. *»Realised something important today.»*
*»Oh?»* He sipped, wary.
*»Weve been married too long for secrets,»* she said, holding his gaze. *»Im coming with you to the Marsden tomorrow.»*
The glass froze mid-air. Wine sloshed, staining the tablecloth.
*»You»* He turned to Emily. *»You told her?»*
*»Didnt have to,»* Emily said. *»Mum saw the texts.»*
*»I wanted to spare you,»* Mark whispered, staring at the red spill. *»After your mums stroke you were in bits.»*
*»And you think I wasnt in bits watching you vanish?»* Sarahs voice cracked. *»I thought the worst, Mark.»*
*»Im sorry.»* His hand found hers. *»Thought I was doing right.»*
*»Right is facing it together,»* she said, squeezing back. *»Like everything else.»*
*»Christ, youve no idea the weight off me,»* he admitted, voice rough. *»Lying, hiding pills exhausting.»*
*»No more,»* Sarah cupped his cheek. *»Well handle whatever comes. Together.»*
*»And if its bad?»*
*»Then we fight,»* she said. *»But it wont be.»*
Emily sniffled.
*»Look at us, making the kid cry,»* Mark joked weakly.
*»Relief,»* Emily managed. *»Hated lying, Dad.»*
*»Sorry, love. Put too much on you.»*
*»Done now,»* Sarah said. *»Lets eat. Big day tomorrow.»*
They ateproperly talked, laughed evenfor the first time in months. Later, when Emily had gone up, Sarah asked:
*»Why, Mark? Why shut me out?»*
He stared out at the garden, silent for a long time.
*»Stupid pride, maybe. Didnt want to seem weak. Not after being your rock with your mum. You looked at me like I was unbreakable. Then this»*
*»You *are* my rock,»* Sarah said. *»But even rocks weather. And Im here for that too.»*
He pulled her close, holding tight.
*»Im a bloody idiot,»* he murmured. *»Wasted so much time hiding.»*
*»Done now,»* she repeated. *»We move forward.»*
Morning. The Marsden. Hours of waiting. Then
*»Benign,»* the consultant said, smiling over his glasses. *»Surgery to remove it, straightforward. No chemo needed.»*
Sarah gripped Marks hand, her breath rushing out. His eyes shutpure, unguarded relief.
*»Thank you, Doctor,»* she whispered.
*»Thank your husband,»* he said. *»Catching it this early? Rare. Six months later, different story.»*
In the corridor, Mark leaned against the wall, face in his hands, shoulders shaking.
*»Mark,»* Sarah wrapped around him. *»Its alright.»*
*»Sorry,»* he rasped. *»For shutting you out. For being a coward.»*
*»Hush,»* she wiped his cheek. *»All that matters is youre okay. And were together.»*
Emily barrelled into them. *»Well? What did he say?»*
*»All clear,»* Sarah hugged her. *»Just an op, and Dads good as new.»*
*»Thank God,»* Emily exhaled. *»I was so scared»*
*»We all were,»* Sarah said, looking at Mark. *»But now? Everythings going to be fine. Right, love?»*
*»Right,»* he smiledhis real smile, warm and bright. *»Better than fine.»*
He pulled them both close, and Sarah thoughtsometimes you have to peek into someone elses phone to save what matters most. Even if its not quite right.
