Scarlett sat in the cozy corner of the café, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, gazing out the window at the familiar streets of New York City. It was the same neighborhood where you both had built a life together, raising your two kids in the apartment that once felt like the perfect home. For eight years, you and Scarlett had been happily married, weathering life’s ups and downs—navigating demanding careers, late-night diaper changes, and chaotic school mornings. You had celebrated birthdays with homemade cakes, traveled to new places, and supported each other through job promotions and setbacks. But somewhere along the way, the balance had shifted. Work consumed more and more of your time, leaving little space for the connection you once shared.

Eventually, the strain became too much, and you both made the difficult decision to separate—not because of a lack of love, but because you were simply too busy to hold things together. To make things easier for the kids, you agreed on a routine: alternating weeks, each of you taking turns caring for them. Scarlett had moved into a new house across town, while you remained in the old apartment filled with echoes of your shared past.

Now, as she sat waiting in the café down the street, the place where you’d shared countless Sunday mornings together, she was expecting you to arrive with the kids.