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She stares into the garden, a faraway look on her face. ‘Yes. I miss him terribly.’

I rest my head on her shoulder. ‘I miss him too, Mum, and I’m going to miss you.’

‘Tom, I love you, but…’ I pace the kitchen, wringing my hands. ‘Tom, I’ve been unhappy…’

Through the kitchen window, the glow of headlights appears in the driveway, and I press my hand against my stomach like it will somehow quash the rising nausea. The engine cuts and I hear the beep of Tom’s car key fob. My heart rate quickens. The side gate clicks and the security light flicks on. I sit at the dining table as Tom slides open the back door, his face brightening when he sees me.

‘Hello. Waiting for me?’ His gaze drifts to my suitcase and his smile falters.

‘Something like that,’ I say softly.

His Adam’s apple bobs. ‘What’s going on? Everything okay with your mum?’

‘Oh. Yes. Mum’s fine.’ I gesture to the chair beside me. ‘Sit down, Tom.’

He places his keys on the bench and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of a chair, and tentatively sits.

I grab his hand in both of mine. His skin is cold and I instinctively rub it to warm it up. ‘Listen. I need to go away for a while.’

His brows knit. ‘Go away? With friends? Girls’ trip?’ He looks at my case again and barks a quick, nervous laugh. ‘That’s a big case for a few days away.’ He shakes his head. ‘Women. Always have to take so much stuff. I bet Nat’s case is just as big. That’s funny, Marc didn’t mention anything about Nat going?—’

‘Tom. Please listen to me.’

He stares at me, his eyes wide with worry and uncertainty.

‘It’s not a trip with Nat. I’m going overseas.’

The crease in his brow deepens. ‘Overseas? Where?’

‘I’m going to start in Germany and take it from there.’

He rips his hand away. ‘Start in Germany … start? I don’t understand.’

I hang my head. None of this is coming out right. ‘I’m leaving, Tom. I’m unhappy and I need to do something for myself.’

‘But that’s just because of the redundancy. You’re not feeling like yourself. You’ll get a new job and?—’

‘I don’t want a new job,’ I say. ‘This isn’t about losing my job. This is about me not being happy and needing to do more with my life.’

‘But we’re happy.’ He reaches for my hand. ‘We have a good life.’

‘No, Tom. You’re happy. I’m not.’

He shakes his head. ‘You’ve never told me that.’

That’s a fair point. I hadn’t talked to him because I didn’t understand it myself, not really, not until now. But like so many relationships, the truth often remains hidden until something forces it out. ‘You’re right. I didn’t, but I should have.’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a small voice. Empty words that only serve to help me feel better and him feel worse.

‘But overseas? That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it? I mean, it will cost so much, and you don’t have a job, and?—’

‘That’s why now is the perfect time, while I have some money and don’t have to worry about working for a while.’

‘You could easily get a job at another uni. Seventeen per cent superannuation, Holly. No one else pays that, and if you got a job now, you could use that money for something important. Put it towards your retirement or the mortgage.’

I gaze at him unblinking and feel vindicated for not telling him sooner. ‘I’m thirty-one, Tom. I don’t want to think about retirement. It’s different for you, you’re in your forties and work in finance – you constantly think about it. And this is your house, in your name. You never put me on the mortgage.’