Short Story

Letting Go

By Shelley Banks

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when Lisa and Ben found themselves sitting on the back deck, the last rays of sunlight glinting off their wine glasses. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of eucalyptus and distant rain. For weeks, there had been a gentle tension between them, one that you would only notice if everything else was silent.

Lisa tugged her sleeves over her hands, staring out at the yard where their dog, Max, was chasing after the tennis ball she’d just thrown. She cleared her throat, searching for words.

‘Ben, do you remember when we first moved in here? We painted the spare room that ridiculous shade of yellow.’

Ben smiled, a little sadly. ‘I remember. We had to sleep with the windows open for days because of the fumes.’

The nostalgia was sweet but carried a weight. They both knew what sat unspoken between them. After nine years together, life had become a series of routines—morning coffees, Saturday trips to the markets, the occasional bickering over who would take the rubbish out. The spark that once ignited their connection had become a sense of distance they could no longer ignore.

Lisa turned to Ben, meeting his eyes. ‘I think we need to talk about… us.’

He nodded, setting his glass down with care. ‘I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. I want us both to be happy and neither of us are, not really.’

There were no tears, only a quiet sadness, and a relief that honesty had finally prevailed. They talked late into the evening, the conversation weaving through memories, dreams, and the realisation that their paths had diverged. They spoke of gratitude, and the importance of not holding on simply because it was comfortable.

By the time the rain began to patter softly against the tin roof, Lisa and Ben had made their decision. They agreed to part ways, not out of anger, but with the hope each would find joy in new directions.

The next morning, the house felt different—not empty, but open. Lisa watched the sun rise through the kitchen window, breathing in the possibility of new beginnings. It hurt, but she knew, deep down, they’d both be all right.

Books

If you like my short stories I’ve published eleven books.