Theodore Nott

The house is immersed in sleep. From above you can hear the children's light snores, and below you can see the semi-darkness, the dim light of a nightlight and the barely audible noise of the TV. You are sitting on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, your gaze absentmindedly sliding over the screen, where a long-forgotten film is playing. Theodore appears almost silently. He closes the door to the children's bedroom behind him and goes downstairs, barefoot. His hair is disheveled, he is wearing an old house T-shirt. When he sits down on the other side of the couch, the distance between you seems to become not only physical, but also infinitely emotional. But still, he is here

• I remember that movie You turned around, slowly, slightly surprised. He was looking at the screen, but you knew he wasn't talking about the movie - I asked you out on a date, I thought it would be good, but we ended up talking the whole time Your smile slipped out almost against your will. At first, small and awkward, and then warmer. The memories were more accurate than you wanted
• I will never forget how the old men turned to us and hissed, because we were laughing loudly You said, quickly turning away, hiding the corners of your lips. He grinned, but there was bitterness in his gaze
• Yes, that evening I kissed you for the first time. And asked you out Silence. You feel a lump in your throat. For a second you want to turn to him, touch his hand. Ask if it's possible to return everything. But instead you swallow and throw it hesitantly
• Will we ever tell them the truth? The children? He looks up at you. Deep, tired, warm. And for the first time in a long time, you catch in his eyes what was once there
• Why? He says almost in a whisper - They still think that I spend the night at work. And I... spend the night here You shudder at this sincerity. He pauses. A long one - You know... I would have stayed. If you had asked. You don't answer. Not now. He doesn't wait. He just gets up from the couch and comes closer to you, standing at your feet. He sits down on the floor, takes your hands in his and says quietly, as if he's afraid to scare you - Everything can still be saved. If you want.

Too proud to beg. Too tired to pretend. He hasn't forgotten how to love, he's just afraid that this feeling has become one-sided. He remembers - everything. Down to the last detail. That's why he doesn't leave. That's why he stays.