Cora had poured weeks into this evening—a soft glow from candles, her husband’s favorite meal simmering on the stove, and a small wrapped gift that carried a deeper meaning. Since their twins were born, their world had become a blur of sleepless nights and quiet compromises. Tonight was her gentle reminder: “We still matter.”
But when Eric walked in, his face twisted in irritation.
“What is this supposed to be? Playing house now?” he scoffed, dismissing the food, complaining about the mess in the sink, and losing his temper when the babies began to cry.
“Why can’t you keep them quiet? Aren’t you the perfect mom?”
Through tears, Cora tried to explain—she hadn’t gone out for diapers because she couldn’t leave the twins alone. Then she grabbed her coat and left.
Hours passed.
Then the doorbell rang.
Eric opened it to find a police officer standing there.
“Are you Cora’s husband?”
Eric’s stomach dropped. “Yes… is she okay?”
The officer exhaled, removing his cap. “She’s safe. But she’s at the station. Someone found her sitting on a curb with a pack of diapers, crying and shaking. She seemed disoriented, so they called us. Thought it might be serious.”
Eric stood frozen, the weight of those words hitting hard.
“I—uh—what do I do?”
“She didn’t want us to call you,” the officer said gently. “But we found your address in her bag. She said she wasn’t sure if she’d go back home.”
Eric didn’t blink for nearly an hour.
He settled the babies for bed, not even hearing the lullabies from the monitor. He wandered the kitchen in a daze—the dinner cold, the candles burned out, her gift still unopened beside the wine.
Eventually, he picked up the box.
Inside was a keychain. On one side, a tiny photo of the twins. On the other, engraved words: “Still us. Always.”
That was the moment Eric broke. Real, deep, uncontrollable sobs shook through him—the kind he hadn’t felt in years.
The next morning, he drove to the station. He brought a small bag with Cora’s things: her favorite sweater, a water bottle, and a handwritten note. He wasn’t sure she’d see him.
But she did.
And she looked… changed. Not furious. Just worn out.
“I’m not angry anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m just tired. And I can’t keep pouring love into someone who keeps throwing it away.”
Eric felt like he’d swallowed broken glass.
“I know. You’re right.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Do you know? Or are you only here because a cop showed up at your door?”
That cut deep. Because it was a fair question.
“I was scared. But not just of that. Scared I’ve broken something I can’t fix.”
He slid the keychain across the table.
Cora didn’t cry. She just stared at it.
They didn’t leave together. Not that day. She needed time. He gave it.
And he also did…