he came early.
brought food,
a bottle of wine
he knew i liked,
and a present
i’d mentioned months ago
and completely forgotten about.
he hadn’t.
which was irritating.
he cooked.
washed up.
fixed the cupboard hinge
that had been broken
for about three years
because apparently christmas miracles
do happen.
the boys drank cider.
the eldest explained tannins
to absolutely nobody
who wanted to know.
after dinner
they decided to go to the pub.
he put his coat on,
then stopped.
“i can stay.”
“why?”
“if you don’t want to be on your own.”
there was nothing behind it.
no hope.
no big gesture.
no attempt to come back.
he was just being kind.
and somehow
that hurt more.
“go with them.”
“you sure?”
“yeah.”
at the door he said,
“merry christmas.”
i said it back.
then stood there
and watched the three of them
walk down the road together.
my husband.
my sons.
well.
not my husband anymore.
still their dad.
i shut the door,
made a cup of tea,
sat on the sofa
and cried harder
than i had when he actually left.
because there he was.
finally being
the man i’d spent years
waiting for.
just a little too late.
submitted by /u/deadeyes1990
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