The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Alister Crane stood at the front door, keys dangling in one hand, the other frozen mid-air. He could feel it—an unfamiliar chill had settled into the bones of this place, their home, where echoes of laughter once warmed the walls. Now, silence screamed.
He shut the door gently behind him. His briefcase hit the floor.
She was already there—sitting on the edge of the couch like a child caught red-handed. Hair slightly disheveled, eyes swollen like she had been crying for hours. She looked up when he entered. Her lips quivered, but no words came.
Alister didn't sit.
Didn't greet her.
Didn't speak.
Not yet.
He just stood there, staring at the woman he had loved since high school—the woman who had once been his everything.
Sarah opened her mouth, her voice a soft murmur. "Alister..."
He raised a hand, quiet but firm.
"No. Let me."
Her mouth shut.
He stepped closer, but still didn't sit. His voice, when it finally came, was flat. Controlled. But only just.
"I got your message today."
Her breath hitched. She nodded once. "I know."
"I assume it wasn't meant for me."
Sarah looked away, a tear escaping down her cheek.
"No," she whispered.
He let out a breath—not a sigh, just the slow exhale of a man watching his world collapse. Again.
Alister looked at her for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.
"You know what's funny?" he began. "I sat in my office for ten whole minutes, staring at that message. Reading it over and over, thinking, 'Maybe she's just being cute. Maybe she's trying to surprise me.' But then... then I realized, Sarah—when was the last time you called me 'babe'?"
Her face crumpled.
"I can expl—"
"No," he cut her off. "Don't. Don't you dare explain. Not yet. You'll get your turn."
He finally sat down—slow, deliberate. Not beside her, but across. The coffee table between them felt like a chasm.
"You remember the night we found out we were pregnant?" His voice trembled, eyes glazed with unshed tears. "You jumped on me like a kid at Christmas. We sat on the bathroom floor for hours, crying, laughing, making lists of names. Do you remember that?"
She nodded, sobbing softly.
"I never knew I could be that happy," he whispered. "And I never knew I could be that destroyed... until the day we lost them."
Sarah broke into full sobs, but he didn't comfort her.
He didn't move.
"I watched the life drain out of you after that," Alister said. "And God help me, I understood. I stayed strong for you, Sarah. I told myself, 'She's hurting. She needs you to hold it together.' So I did. Every single day, I woke up, went to work, came home, held you while you cried, made your tea, rubbed your back until you fell asleep... and then I'd go into the bathroom and cry into a towel so you wouldn't hear."
Sarah looked up, tears streaming. "I didn't know..."
"Exactly," he said, eyes flashing. "You didn't know. And you never asked."
He leaned forward, voice rising now, raw and cracking.
"You were surrounded by people—your mother, your friends, even strangers on the internet—everyone was so sorry for Sarah. Everyone treated you like glass. But me? I had to be steel. Because if I broke too, who the hell would be left?"
"I'm sorry..." she whispered.
"For what?" His voice dropped an octave, quiet but venomous. "Sorry that I had to bury our child alone while pretending I was okay? Sorry that no one ever asked me if I was doing alright? Or sorry that while I was putting everything into holding us together, you were out there... screwing my so called friend?"
She winced like he'd struck her.
"Don't do that," she begged. "Don't reduce it to that—"
"Reduce it?" Alister snapped. "That's what you reduced us to. You took our grief—our grief—and used it as a damn hall pass to betray me."
He stood, pacing now, like his body couldn't hold the fury.
"I gave you everything, Sarah. My life, my dreams, my soul. Every plan I made had you in it. I didn't just love you—I built my world around you."
He stopped and turned, eyes sharp.
"And when it got hard—when life sucker-punched us—you ran. Not just from me. From us. And then you had the nerve to tell yourself that it was justified. That because you were in pain, I didn't matter anymore."
"I didn't mean to—"
"You meant it every time you went back to him." He pointed at her, eyes shimmering with rage. "Every kiss, every lie, every time you smiled at me like nothing was wrong—it was all deliberate. Don't you dare tell me it wasn't."
She fell to her knees, hands clutching at the couch cushion. "I was lost. I was broken. I needed something—someone—to feel like I was alive again. I know it's not an excuse—"
"Damn right it's not," he interrupted, stepping back. "Because you had someone. Me. And I was right there, bleeding beside you. But you didn't even see me."
The room was quiet again, save for Sarah's heaving sobs.
Alister stared at her for a long time before speaking again, this time softer. More broken.
"You want to know the worst part?"
She looked up.
"I'd have forgiven you," he said. "If you'd come to me. If you'd told me you were drowning. I would've held you. I would've gone to therapy with you. I would've done anything to pull you back."
He sat again, his voice now low and hollow.
"But you didn't ask to be saved. You chose to drown... and then blame the tide."
Sarah shook her head, words caught in her throat. "I... I didn't know how to come back. After everything... I felt like a stranger in my own skin."
Alister's lips trembled. "So you became a stranger to me, too."
Silence again.
Then Alister leaned in, elbows on knees.
"I read the message ten times. You said you missed him. That you couldn't wait to see him again. That he made you feel alive." He shook his head. "Do you know the last time you said something like that to me?"
She didn't answer.
"Neither do I," he said.
Sarah crawled forward, reaching for his hand. "Please, Alister. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you more than I can ever make right. But I still love you. I do."
He looked at her hand—then at her face.
"No," he said quietly. "You love the idea of me. The version of me who never crumbles, never complains. The one who carries your grief, your guilt, your pain. But not once—not once—did you ask if I was tired."
She was sobbing uncontrollably now. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
He stood again.
And this time, she didn't stop him.
Alister walked to the window, staring out into the night. "You know, I used to believe love was enough. That if two people really loved each other, they could survive anything."
He turned, eyes empty.
"But love doesn't survive in silence. And it sure as hell doesn't survive betrayal."
"Alister, please," she whispered. "What are you saying?"
He looked at her, the woman he once believed was his forever.
"I'm saying I'm done."
The words shattered the room.
Sarah gasped like he'd knocked the air from her lungs. "No... please. Don't leave. We can fix this. We can go to counseling. I'll do anything. Just—don't give up on us."
His voice was calm now. Too calm.
"I already gave everything I had, Sarah. There's nothing left."
She rushed to him, grasping his arm. "You can't walk away. You're all I have."
He looked down at her, gently pulling free.
"I was always all you had. You just didn't see it... until you lost me."
Then he stepped back.
Turned.
And walked away.
Sarah collapsed onto the floor, a broken mess of sobs and regret.
And Alister Crane—his heart torn, his eyes wet—walked out into the night, not because he stopped loving her…
…but because loving her had cost him everything.