The Shadow of the Past: A Drama of Heartbreak and New Beginnings
Nathan returns from a business trip to his flat in Manchester. The taxi stops outside his building, he pays the driver in pounds, grabs his suitcases, and heads toward the door. Suddenly, the entrance swings open, and his girlfriend, Emily, stands before him. Her face is icy, and in her hands, she clutches large rubbish bags.
“Hello! Are you taking out the trash?” Nathan forces a smile, but his voice trembles with foreboding.
“No. These are your things,” she replies in a frosty tone.
“My things?” Nathan freezes, stunned. “What’s happened?”
Emily looks at him with such pain and resolve that his heart tightens. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.
“Emily, I need to leave,” Nathan had whispered a week earlier, standing in their cosy kitchen. “We need some time apart. You see how we’ve just been arguing nonstop lately? Over nothing.”
Emily, seated at the table with a cup of tea, raises her eyes, full of confusion.
“Time apart… Right, of course…” she mumbles, as if she can’t believe her ears. It feels like a bad dream.
“Glad you understand,” Nathan continues, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll stay at my mate’s for a bit.”
“Nathan, but you’ll come back, won’t you?” Emily’s voice wavers, tears welling up.
“Of course I will,” he says dismissively. “All couples go through rough patches. We just need space to think. I won’t even take much, just the essentials.”
He leaves, abandoning his half-drunk coffee on the table. Emily cups it in her hands, as if trying to hold onto the warmth of his touch. She stares blankly, as if the coffee grounds could reveal their future.
For the first few days, they don’t call, only texting—emojis, good mornings, and goodnights. Emily aches for him. She wears his shirt in the evenings, still faintly scented with his cologne, closing her eyes and pretending he’s there.
After a week, she cracks and calls him.
“Nathan, please come home,” she pleads. “I’ve thought it through. It’s my fault. I’ll be better.”
“Sorry, Emily, I’m not ready yet,” he replies coldly. “I need more time.”
After that, his texts grow sparse, replies delayed. “Love, are you ill?” “Is everything alright?” “Why aren’t you answering? Please, I’m worried!”—Emily bombards him, only to receive curt replies: “Busy” or “No time.”
Two weeks later, he finally picks up.
“I miss you so much,” Emily sobs. “Enough, please come back!”
“Emily, thing is,” Nathan’s voice is oddly detached, “I’ve been offered a six-month contract abroad. Good money. I said yes.”
“That’s fine, I’ll go with you!” she insists.
“Don’t. It’s just six months. You’ve got a good job—no sense quitting.”
“Nathan, let’s meet at our café tonight,” Emily begs.
“Can’t. I’m at the station. Train leaves in an hour.”
Emily races to her boss, begs for time off, and dashes to the station—but she’s too late. That night, she calls his number and hears: “The number you have dialled is unavailable.” “Probably just a new SIM,” she tells herself, clinging to hope.
But no call comes. Months pass, and reality sets in. Nathan hadn’t wanted space—he’d wanted out. What if there was no contract?
“Emily? Hi! I’m back tomorrow. Fancy meeting up?” Nathan’s voice on the phone makes her heart leap.
“Hi!” she gasps, nearly dropping her phone. “I’m so happy to hear you… Why didn’t you call? I was so worried—”
“Long story. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Alright, of course,” Emily’s hope swells.
He’s back! Tomorrow, she’ll see him! She knows it, she believes it! She skips work again and rushes to the station.
“Nathan!” She runs to him, but his gaze is distant, cold. “Coming home?”
“Emily, I’m sorry,” he avoids her eyes. “I met someone else. On the train… I’m getting married. Over there.”
The world crashes around her. Her ears ring, her vision blurs.
“I came to sort things out,” he continues. “Moving for good. I’ll grab my stuff. Left my tablet at yours…”
Emily doesn’t hear him. Her heart shatters.
“Goodbye,” she says, turning away toward the taxi rank.
“Wait, my things?” he shouts after her.
She doesn’t remember getting home. Mechanically, she gathers everything that reminds her of Nathan—his clothes, books, even his old toothbrush—all stuffed into a bin bag. As she drags it outside, a taxi pulls up. Nathan jumps out.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells. “Trying to bin my stuff? It’s worth money! Where’s my tablet? Thought you’d keep it?”
“Relax, I want nothing from you,” Emily says icily. “It’s all in here. Even your half-empty toothpaste.”
Nathan snatches the bag, chucks it into the boot, and throws her one last scornful look.
“Thank God I never married you.”
Back inside, Emily flings the window open, breathing in the crisp April air. A weight lifts off her shoulders. She realises—she’s ready to move on.
Then she remembers Daniel—kind, thoughtful, always asking her out. She’d said no, waiting for Nathan. Now, nothing holds her back.
“Daniel?” she dials his number. “Still up for that coffee?”
“Emily?” Daniel’s voice trembles with shock. “Absolutely! I’m chuffed you’ve changed your mind!”
Eight months later, in that same café, Daniel orders Emily’s favourite song. Then—to her astonishment—he steps onto the makeshift stage, grabs the mic, and pulls out a ring. To cheers, he proposes. Without hesitation, tears of joy in her eyes, Emily says, “Yes!”