In her service

LONDON ( Chapter 2 )

Johnny put the key into the lock reluctantly. His wife had texted earlier, declaring that they had to talk, concluding the message without a sign-off or customary kiss. As the door opened and he stepped into the hallway, the dire climate was evident. There was his old rugby sports bag at the bottom of the stairs. The house was dim, and he tracked the light emanating from the kitchen. Walking through a corridor into hell, pressure steaming from inside.

Her eyes were puffy from crying, but now she was waiting, composed, and ready for belligerence. There were papers with logos of the companies he had traded with and bank statements sprawled all across the kitchen table. His entire financial and business life was on display.

“Johnny, please sit down. This isn’t going to be easy.”

His mind was racing through the events of the past few hours, unknown to his wife. Something was nagging to spill it, to end it all before she could get on with the rehearsed speech, feeling the train wreck approaching. Would she say things that would destroy their little family?

“Johnny…” she began, but he intercepted, “I’m sorry.” Two words. Meaningless in the current situation. The wife looked up with tears welling up in her eyes. Didn’t he understand that she was leaving?