Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Drama

Part of Short Story Collection 

It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon when Rachel packed the last box of her belongings. The silence in the house was loud, with a strange echo that once brimmed with laughter and bedtime stories.


David stood in the doorway, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, eyes tracing the faint scuff marks on the hardwood floor.


They hadn’t spoken much in weeks—just clipped exchanges about schedules, bills, and their seven-year-old son, Noah.


“You sure this is what you want?” David asked, voice barely above a whisper.


Rachel didn’t answer right away. She was tired—tired of the fights, the cold silences, amd the feeling of being alone in a house with someone she used to love.


“We’ve tried, David. We really have, but we’re not the same anymore.”


From the kitchen, they heard the screen door creak open, followed by the soft patter of Noah’s sneakers against the porch. He had been quiet too lately, quieter than usual for a boy who used to build Lego cities and narrate superhero adventures. The weight of the change had settled heavy on his small shoulders. A few minutes later, they heard the screen door creak again as Noah went back outside.


Rachel walked to the window and saw Noah sitting alone on the swing set. His legs dangled still instead of pumping the air. He was staring at the sky, and his face was unreadable.


“I’ll tell him,” she murmured, her heart breaking.


David followed her gaze. “Let me,” he said. “I’ll go sit with him.”


Out back, the swing creaked under David’s weight as he sat on the one beside Noah. They swayed in silence for a while.


“You and Mom are leaving each other,” Noah said suddenly, eyes still on the clouds.


David winced. “We’re… taking a break. Sometimes adults need space to figure things out.” He explained, with sadness in his voice.

Noah turned to him. “Is it my fault?”

That question shattered something inside David. “No, buddy. Never. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”Noah looked down.

“I just want us to be together again. Like before. Like when you fixed my rocket and Mom made dinosaur pancakes.”

David smiled faintly. “Those were good pancakes.”Noah didn’t smile.

“Can we try again? Like really try?” Noah pleaded.

David’s throat tightened. He looked back at the house, where Rachel stood behind the screen, watching. Maybe they’d both been so focused on what was broken that they forgot what still worked—what still mattered.

He stood and reached for Noah’s hand. “Come on. Let’s talk to Mom.”


Inside, the three sat on the couch, a quiet family meeting. Rachel looked at Noah’s hopeful face and then at David. For a moment, nobody spoke.


“I don’t know if we can fix everything,” Rachel said in her voice soft.


David nodded. “But maybe we start small. For him., and for us.


“Noah crawled into their laps, a little boy trying to hold his world together. That night, they didn’t make any big promises. There were no dramatic reunions or fairy tale endings, but they ordered pizza, watched Noah’s favorite movie, and laughed—really laughed—for the first time in months.


They tucked Noah into bed together. As they stood in the hallway outside his door, Rachel reached for David’s hand.


“We can try to make this work, one day at a time?” she whispered. He squeezed her fingers. One swing, one pancake, just one day at a time.


And for the first time in a long while, they believed it just might be enough.