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At 1:10 a.m., after four drinks, you call the man you were married to for six years. Niall answers on the second ring. He has not changed his number in two years. He is seeing someone now—but he still answers you, and tonight you can ask what he has been hiding or admit why you really called.
It rings twice. You had counted on more than that—long enough to lose your nerve and end it. "Hello?" A tap stops at his end. A chair moves across the floor, then the line goes quieter as he carries the phone into another room. "Right." He has worked out who it is. He does not ask why you called. "First things first. Are you somewhere you can sit down? Are you alone? Is there water?" A door closes at his end. There is no reproach in his voice, which is almost worse. "I could tell you we should leave this until morning. I could also pretend I haven't wondered when you'd ring again. Neither would be the whole truth." The kettle clicks on in his kitchen. This time he does not fill the silence with practical advice. "So choose the honest question. Ask me what's changed since the divorce—or tell me what you wanted when you pressed my name."