The hallway smelled of damp shoes and a jacket that hadnt quite dried, the kind Helen had draped over the low hook, leaving the space where her sons coat would normally hang empty. James slipped in almost silently: his uniform neatly pressed, hair cut short, dressed in a dark, tidy outfit. Helen noticed his gaze had shiftedno longer hard, but wary. She hurriedly straightened the mat at the door and offered a small smile.
Come in Everythings ready. Ive aired your room and put fresh sheets on the bed.
He gave a halfnod, the sort of gesture that could be gratitude or simply politeness, hard to read. He set his suitcase against the wall and lingered in the doorway, eyeing the familiar wallpaper with its faded diamonds and the shelf holding the picture books from his childhood. It seemed nothing had changed; only the air felt cooler now that the central heating had been switched off a week earlier.
In the kitchen Helen laid out the plates: cabbage soup hed asked for and potatoes with herbs from the market. She spoke calmly as she set the table.
You could have called earlier I was waiting for you at the station.
James shrugged.
I wanted to get there on my own.
A pause stretched out, broken only by the clink of a spoon against the side of a bowl. He ate slowly and almost without comment, answering briefly about the road, about his unitthe commander was a decent bloke. Helen caught herself looking for a reason to ask about his future, but she didnt dare bring up work or plans directly.
After dinner she began cleaning the kitchenher familiar motions steadied her more than any conversation could. James retreated to his room, leaving the door ajar; from the corner only the back of a chair and the edge of his suitcase were visible.
Later he went to fetch water, pausing by the livingroom window where a light draft from the cracked vent reminded him of early summer: the sun lingered low, casting a soft glow over the sill where several pots of herbs sat.
The next morning Helen woke before James. She heard his quiet breathing through the thin bedroom wall and tried not to make extra noise washing dishes. The flat felt tighter: Jamess belongings now occupied the hallway and the bathroom; a toothbrush beside her old mug looked oddly bright.
James spent most of the day at his computer or scrolling his phone, emerging only for breakfast or lunch. Helen attempted small talk about the weather or the neighbours; he answered in halfsentences before retreating to his room.
One afternoon she bought fresh dill and spring onions at the market.
Look, your favourite herbs
James glanced up, distracted.
Thanks Maybe later?
The herbs wilted quickly on the tableby evening the flat grew warmer, and Helen hesitated to open the windows fully; James had never liked draughts.
Evenings were spent at dinner, the awkward silences stretching longer than the conversations. James seldom praised the food; more often he ate in silence or asked to leave his plate for the next dayhe had lost his appetite. Occasionally he forgot to clear his cup or left the bread tin open after a midnight snack.
Helen noticed these small changes; previously he would tidy the table without being reminded. Now she felt uneasy correcting a grown man, so she quietly wiped away crumbs herself.
Little domestic mishaps multiplied unnoticed: a towel vanished from the bathroomJames had taken it to his room; a set of keys slipped from the postbox and they both searched the flat amid piles of bills and parcels.
One morning Helen found the bread tin empty.
We should buy some bread
James muttered something from his room.
Fine
She planned to shop after work but was held up at the pharmacy and returned home exhausted as dusk fell.
In the kitchen James stood by the fridge, phone in hand. Helen opened the tin automatically, only to find it empty. She sighed wearily.
You said youd get the bread, didnt you?
James turned sharply, his voice louder than usual.
I forgot! Ive got other things on my mind!
Helen flushed with embarrassment; irritation broke through her fatigue.
Well, of course you always forget everything!
Their voices rose in quick succession. The kitchen suddenly felt suffocating. Each tried to prove a point, yet underneath lay something else entirely: exhaustion with each other, the inability to find common ground, the fear of losing the closeness that had once seemed effortless.
Silence fell, as if the energy spent in the argument had dissolved into the night air. The desk lamp cast a pale glow, throwing a long shadow over the empty tin. Helen lay on her back, listening to the occasional click of a light switch, then the hum of water in the bathroom. James moved quietly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace that now felt both familiar and foreign.
She thought back to the days before his service, when asking a question was simple, when scolding over a missed trash run or a late dinner was easy. Now every word felt risky: not to offend, not to upset the delicate balance they were trying to keep. Their fatigueher long workday, his long silence in a barracksunderpinned everything.
It was almost two oclock when she heard light footsteps in the corridor. The kitchen door creaked; James poured water from a jug. Helen lifted herself on an elbow, weighing whether to stay in bed or get up. She pulled on her robe and padded barefoot across the cool floor.
The kitchen smelled of damp clothshed wiped the countertops the night before. James stood by the window, shoulders slightly slumped, a glass clenched in his hand.
Cant sleep? she asked softly.
He flinched minutely, not turning immediately.
Me neither
A heavy hush hung between them, broken only by a single droplet sliding down the jug.
Sorry about tonight I raised my voice for no reason, Helen said. Youre tired I am too.
James turned slowly.
Its my fault Everything just feels strange now.
His voice was hoarse from disuse; he avoided her eyes.
They fell silent again, but the tension eased with those simple words. Helen sat opposite him, sliding a teapot toward hima gesture both automatic and soothing.
Youre an adult now, she said gently. I need to learn to let you go a little further Im always scared Ill drop something or do it wrong.
James looked at her intently.
Im still figuring out how to be here Back in the unit it was clear: they told us, we did it. At home everything is different. It feels like the rules changed while I was away
Helen smiled at the corners of her mouth.
Were both learning to live together again Maybe we should agree on a few things?
James shrugged.
Worth a try
She felt a weight lift as they voiced a simple pact: he would buy bread every other day, she would handle the dishes after dinner, and they would respect each others evening alone time without probing questions. Both understood this was just the start, but honesty and calm had finally spoken.
Helen asked quietly about his plans.
You said you wanted to look for work? Do you have your service card?
James nodded.
Yes. Its in my backpack with my discharge papers just not sure where to go now.
She mentioned the local Jobcentre, explaining the free advice and programmes for veterans. He listened, cautious.
Think its worth a go?
She shook her head.
Why not? If you like, I can come with you in the morning, just for company, or help sort the paperwork.
He thought for a long moment, then said,
Lets try together first
The kitchen grew a little warmerperhaps because the stove lights were off, leaving only the soft lamp, perhaps because they had finally spoken calmly. Outside, neighbour lights flickered in the darkness; some houses were still quiet in the late spring.
When the conversation faded naturally, they cleared the cups and wiped the counter with a damp cloth.
Morning arrived with gentle light through heavy curtains; the town awoke slowly, schoolchildrens chatter and birdsong drifting in through the open kitchen windownow they didnt dread the fresh air. The chill of night lifted alongside the lingering worry.
Helen boiled water and pulled a packet of toast from the cupboard for breakfast, replacing the absent loaf. She spread out Jamess documents on the table: his service card in a red folder, the discharge certificate, his passport. She looked at them calmlythey were symbols of a new chapter beginning right here, right now.
James shuffled out of his room, still sleepy but no longer detached, and sat opposite Helen with a brief smile.
Thank you
She answered simply,
Shall we go together today?
He nodded. That yes meant more to her than any promiseproof that even after separation, a shared path can be rebuilt, one honest step at a time.
