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PROLOGUE

I snuff out the lone survivor in the centre of the table, watching the white wax drip down the candle’s stem to the base. The others have already burnt down to nothing. The summer evening’s sun has come and gone. The salmon fillets have warmed, burnt and then cooled to stone cold.

All whilst waiting for him . To come home to me . To message me, he’s going to be late. To fucking acknowledge my existence for once.

Staying late at work has become the new normal in the past few months, but I thought today, of all days, he would be home early. Or at least on time. I thought today he would remember.

I swipe my sleeve across my cheeks, the watery tracks as dried and crusted as the salmon fillets. My eyes are tired and sore, all my tears spent. I fidget with the gold

band on my left hand, the smooth metal slowly sliding past my knuckle.

Thrusting my chair ba ck, I stand, dropping the ring in the centre of the table between the burnt salmon and withered green beans .

This decides me, after a year of weighing up the pros and cons, I’m done.

I scoop up Tiggie, hugging him to my chest, ignoring the moisture beading in my eyes.

“Point 1: The sex is great. Pro.” I say to Tiggie as I scratch beneath his chin. “When it actually happens. I probably have cobwebs down there.”

I climb the stairs to our bedroom. Pulling my overnight bag down from the top shelf in the wardrobe.

“Point 2: The only time we talk is to argue…about how we never talk. Definitely a con, right Tiggie?”

I shove a few changes of clothes into the bag, along with a few books, my laptop and some sentimental items. I reach across to the picture frame on my bedside table. I hesitate, holding it a moment longer. We looked so happy on our wedding day.

“Point 3: I feel beautiful in his arms,” I say as I swipe away a tear. “When it happens (refer to point one).”

I slam the photo frame face down on the bedside table. Tiggie leaps down from the bed to weave between my legs - blissfully unaware. Grabbing a pillow from our still-made bed, I scream my frustrations into the soft cushion.

“Time to go, Tiggie.” I throw the bag’s shoulder strap over my arm. Tiggie jumps up into my arms as we make our way downstairs .

“Point 4: He’s never fucking here. Con.” My overnight bag thuds against each step as I go. Tiggie purrs against my chest. Thud.

“Alex?”

Matthias stands in the doorway, his form illuminated by the porch lantern from behind. His hair is disheveled like he has been fiddling with it at work - a stress coping mechanism of his.

I take another step. Thud.

“I thought you’d be asleep already.” He rubs at his eyes – deep dark circles surround them.

Another step. Another thud .

I have to stop myself from going to him. Stop myself from caring.

“I was waiting for you,” I say.

Tiggie jumps from my arms, strutting towards Matthias to rub against his legs. Matthias looks to the dining table, at the snubbed-out candles, and the ones burnt down to stubs. At the fish.

“Did you cook?” He drops his work satchel, walking over to the ruined cold salmon fillets. “Mm, this salmon is good,” he says.

“It’s ruined.” I begin.

“ Nein , ist gut. I can-"

“No, Matthias. This is ruined. We are ruined. I won’t live like this anymore.”

“Because I missed dinner? I didn’t know you planned this. ”

“What day is today?” I ask.

“Thursday?” He forks a bite of cold green beans into his mouth. “Alex, I don’t understand… Are you crying?”

“You’ve barely seen me in months. Barely spoken to me. Barely touched me…”

“Ja, ich wei?.” His eyes soften. “Work has been a lot.”

“No more excuses. We are both unhappy.” I adjust the bag on my shoulder and make my way to the front door, pausing at the open entryway for one last look at the man I spent years loving. All those years wasted.

“ Mein Herz. ”

“Goodbye, Matthias.”

“Alex. Wait.” He drops his fork, it clatters to the tabletop. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t understand-.”

I bend to pick up Tiggie, bundling him into my arms like a baby.

“Happy Anniversary to you, too,” I say.

Realisation illuminates his sharp features, swiftly replaced with devastation.

I turn, rushing out the door and down the steps to my car. I slam the key in the ignition and take off before I lose my nerve.

“Point 5:” I say to Tiggie in the passenger seat as I stroke her fluffy tail. “He forgot our tenth wedding anniversary. Definitely a fucking con. ”

Tiggie purrs in the seat beside me, oblivious to my pain. It hurts. It burns. My heart feels as though it has been ripped clean out of my chest, plucked from my body and stamped into the ground.

My eyes flick to the rearview mirror.

Point 6: He’s not even trying to stop me from leaving.