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‘Great, thank you.’ He stares at me expectantly, like he deserves a round of applause for showing some appreciation.

‘You’re welcome,’ I say and flick the switch on the kettle.

He gestures to my laptop on the dining table. ‘Ready for a day of job hunting?’

My cheeks warm and I turn away, grabbing the milk from the fridge and holding the door open a few seconds longer than necessary so the cold air cools my face. ‘Well, I’m still technically employed for another month, so I don’t have to start looking today.’

‘True. But it could take a while to find something,’ he says.

I roll my eyes at the milk carton.

‘Okay, we’re off. Come on, Jack.’

Jack picks up his schoolbag, shoves in his lunchbox and heads for the back door.

‘What do you say?’ Tom says to him, resting his hand on Jack’s small shoulder.

He gapes up at Tom, his little face scrunched with confusion.

‘What do you say to Holly? You won’t see her for two weeks.’

Jack looks at me. ‘Bye.’

I give him one last smile. ‘Bye, Jack. Have a good day at school.’

He slides the glass door across and runs out to the garage.

‘At least he said bye,’ Tom says.

‘Yeah.’ I walk around the island bench and lift my face to kiss him. He has soft lips and I always liked kissing him. ‘You smell nice.’

He grins. ‘You like this one?’

‘I do.’ I swallow and pat his chest. ‘Have a good day at work.’ It comes out strained, and for once I’m grateful he’s not good at picking up on my emotional cues.

He slips his arms into his coat sleeves. ‘See you tonight.’

My gut twists, and I push him towards the door before I change my mind about leaving. ‘Bye.’

As he reverses down the driveway, I let out a pained groan. ‘Sorry, Tom, but I have to do this.’

Settling at the dining table with my laptop and a mug of coffee, I email a medical certificate citing stress to Sasha and HR and let them know I cleared out my desk on Saturday morning and won’t be returning. Then I search accommodation in Berlin, booking a studio flat in Mitte for two weeks. I’ll choose the next country when I arrive. With nervous adrenaline coursing through me, I rush into the bedroom to pack, pulling summer clothes from my wardrobe and dumping the contents of my underwear drawer onto the bed, then hit Nat’s number for FaceTime.

‘Hey,’ she says, her face coming to life on the screen. She’s still in her pyjamas, her light brown hair mussed from sleep. Her baby squeals and gives her a huge gummy grin before she scoops porridge into his mouth.

‘Hello, Archie,’ I coo.

‘You’re calling early for your first Monday off work.’

‘That’s because I have something to tell you.’ I flip my screen towards my open suitcase. ‘I did it.’

Nat gasps and places the cereal bowl down on the kitchen table. ‘Oh. My. God. You booked a ticket?’

‘Yep. Last night.’

Her eyes bulge. ‘Wow. I didn’t realise you’d do that so soon.’

I crawl onto the bed and cross my legs. ‘I didn’t either. But last night, I snapped.’ I tell her about yesterday: waking up hungover and not being able to get any peace because I was expected to help with Jack and the house was a mess; about Adam encouraging me to go; then cooking dinner with no thanks and Tom hassling me about his work shirt. Voicing it makes me sound irrational, but at the time it’s all it took to make me want to leave.