'Let’s Drink to Us' by Jennifer Bromham

I’m taping down the lid of the final box as Pete walks in.

‘I thought it might be time for this.’ His voice echoes through the hallway as he draws a bottle from behind his back.

‘Is that the Moet we’ve been saving?’

He smiles. ‘For a special occasion? Yes.’

This is why we’re selling up, getting divorced. Pete’s incessant positivity outweighing reality. ‘I’m not sure toasting our biggest failure is appropriate.’

‘I had a feeling you’d resist,’ he says, his smile unwavering as he holds out his free hand. ‘Come on, one last tour before we walk out that door for the last time.’

I take his hand and he leads me to the lounge.

‘What do you see?’

‘An empty room.’

He shakes his head. ‘I see Christmas 2005: your Dad having his post-feast snooze, and us holding a three-year-old Ellie as she drew that moustache on him.’

I almost smile.

‘Now to the kitchen.’ He tugs my hand. ‘I see you walking in carrying the injured fluffball who became Mr Tiddlesnoop, World’s Greatest Cat.’

‘He was so tiny,’ I say.

‘And now upstairs.’ Hand-in-hand, we go up together. ‘Ellie’s room.’

‘I see us sitting on her bed comforting her after Rob cheated.’

‘I see us reading “Harry Potter” to her.’

‘It took two years of bedtime stories to get to the end.’

We share a smile as we close the door and turn to our bedroom.

‘What do you see?’ Pete asks.

I see a million moments: sadness, joy, overwhelming love.

‘I see all those nights when I wanted time to stop so you could hold me forever.’

He lifts my hand, pressing it to his lips. ‘The life we shared deserves a toast, don’t you think?’

And I nod. ‘Let’s drink to us.’