Almost Enough

For three weeks, the dream had been coming back. It kept resurfacing at the worst possible moments. Like today — when her boss asked for advice. A single word — “unclear” — was enough to pull it back. She missed his question entirely and stood there, frozen, aware of how foolish she must have looked.

Julia didn’t know whether it was a premonition, a warning, or just a sign of burnout.

She came home after her shift, exhausted. The tension at work had been worse than usual today, but still bearable. Yet one question had refused to let her mind rest for the past three weeks.

And that recurring dream…

Why couldn’t she simply forget it, like so many others?

The kids met her at the door.

“Did you bring any treats?”

“Did you have dinner already?” she asked instead.

“We didn’t have time,” they answered. Three of them together.

“Let me guess… Games?” She was more than sure, even if they protested.

What else could you expect from a family where Mom was an IT engineer?

The question returned — simple and frightening:

Why me?

She replayed the past, searching for a mistake that could explain it.

That day, many years ago, Marcus had left his boss full of hope.

Dedicating several years to that international construction company had made him rich in experience. And now — a new assignment.

To be responsible for the entire operations department.

It sounded impressive.

He hadn’t paid attention to the words:

“Sacrifice may be more than you can imagine.”

Old directors always had a habit of scaring their employees — it was part of the game. So he thought.

Marcus’s smile almost sang as he headed home that day. It was worth celebrating. He felt as if he had almost reached the top of the world.

Yes, he clearly remembered that line from The Devil’s Advocate:

“Vanity… definitely my favorite sin.”

But he believed it was different in his case.

No — he was absolutely sure it was.

He remembered that day now, driving along the city streets.

He had been badly mistaken.

That was why his resignation letter had eventually found its way onto his boss’s desk.

Sometimes Julia questioned whether she had made the right choice about her profession. It had been a trend — and truly captivating — IT, AI, data, engineering — everything sounded like the future.

No one chooses a profession while planning ahead for family life. Family is supposed to be a side effect of a career, and kids are expected to behave like loyal employees. Somehow, it rarely works that way.

Spending the whole day in the office dealing with code, bugs, and new ideas from the top — ideas rarely welcomed with enthusiasm by the team — was manageable.

But the load of unresolved problems kept buzzing in her head all the way home, even when she was surrounded by the kids.

Doubts were irritating at times. Had she chosen the right work after all?

Yet she had never questioned whether Marc had been the right choice. He was the love of her life — at least she had always believed so.

Only a few months ago did she begin to feel, somewhere deep inside, that something was going wrong.

Actually — no. It had started much earlier…

Marcus was on his way to pick up another passenger. He turned right at the green light just before it turned yellow. About an hour more, and he would head home.

He checked his phone again. No new messages.

Maybe that was worse.

He knew when things had gone too far.

Three months of nonstop business trips out of the country — site visits, international meetings, urgent assignments…

It had sounded exciting at first. But Julie had been deeply upset. She had already felt abandoned, and now she was alone with their first baby.

Both sets of parents lived too far away to help. They hired a nurse, but those first months were supposed to be the most precious for parents — for both parents.

Even when he was home, things were not much easier. He discovered that the company culture was built on conflicts politely labeled “competition.” And he had to stay involved even when he was in his own apartment. He also knew that many top managers and directors would occasionally play dirty.

“Everyone does that,” they would say when confronted.

For a long time he kept asking himself whether it was the right choice to stay there.

So when he returned from that long business trip, he knew the answer. He chose his family. And resigned.

Everyone thought he was crazy.

He knew he would be able to find something just as interesting — and profitable — but closer to home.

He did everything in a hurry. Had he given himself a couple more months, he might have found something even better.

Still, he was satisfied when he was offered a director position at a nearby hotel. It was a small chain with properties only in the city, so there was no risk of being sent far away again.

At the same time, helping to develop a smaller-scale business had its own charm. So he threw himself into it — remembering to pay attention to his wife and kids.

He didn’t even think of it as a sacrifice.

Those thoughts came later…

Julia knew Marc would be back in an hour or two. She had grown used to his schedule and didn’t want to distract him while he was driving.

Dinner was cooked. The kids were fed. A bedtime story had been told to the youngest — Mike.

She talked to Jenny, who was having some trouble at school. And Alex — the middle one — a kindergartner already pretending to be grown-up — had said something funny that day:

“Remember, Mom, when I wasn’t so old,” he made a significant pause, “I used to believe that clouds were drawn by magicians!”

“Well,” she smiled, “you’re definitely an adult now.”

And she watched him smile proudly.

The passenger closed the back door and fastened the belt. Marcus could tell she looked about thirty — confident, calm, not trying too hard. Just… sure of herself.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Good evening.”

For a while they drove in silence. Then she caught his eyes in the mirror.

“You don’t look like a taxi driver.”

He almost laughed. “And what does a taxi driver look like?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Not like someone who used to be in charge.”

He didn’t respond.

“You were, weren’t you?”

“Something like that.”

She studied him for a moment.

“Are you married?”

Marcus didn’t answer right away. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

“Yes,” he said at last.

He turned onto the main road and moved into the left lane.

“That pause,” she said quietly, “was interesting.”

He glanced at her again in the mirror. She smiled — not quite flirting, not quite serious.

They talked about nothing in particular. It was a short drive.

When they arrived, she paid, left a generous tip, and opened the door.

“You deserve something more,” she said before stepping out.

The car felt quieter after she left.

He drove on.

He knew he could have asked for her number.

When Julia finally managed to be alone, she wanted to cry, but allowed herself only a teardrop. She had to pull herself together. For everyone’s sake.

Julia remembered that dream — almost like a premonition — where she was standing in the middle of a misty field. She couldn’t see the city, but their building stood in the distance.

It looked… unclear.

There was no better word for it.

She felt tired and disoriented. Still, she tried to walk toward it. It was home.

She could hear a creek nearby, though she couldn’t see it. She moved through high grass wet with morning dew.

Was it morning, though? It felt like it.

The more she tried to reach the building, the farther away it seemed — until it disappeared into the mist.

A bird cried somewhere above her — a weary, hopeless sound.

And then she woke up.

The dream kept returning to her almost every week.

She remembered how tired she had been — more from family life than from work.

And once, after the kids were asleep, he said:

“We should talk.”

“About what?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

“About whether we still want this.”

She looked at him, confused.

“I feel I’m tired of family life,” he continued quietly. “Maybe you are too.”

Marcus picked up another passenger.

The man took the back seat and sat silently, listening to something through his earbuds. That was fine. Marcus had grown used to all kinds of people.

He remembered that after five years in the hotel business, he had achieved many good things. But at the same time, the work had become predictable. He knew everything. They had doubled in size. Not a spectacular result — but a solid one. And they could keep growing.

For what? For pride? For the fashion of chasing goals?

Back then they had two kids, and Julia was pregnant. He had enough money — savings, investments. They were not aiming for a luxurious life. She had a good job, a good position, a good salary. It was enough.

But they were tired. Tired of life. A little tired of each other. Or so he thought.

Was he a good father?

He wasn’t sure.

Driving in the city and to the outer towns felt like freedom after staying in the same hotel. Passengers shared stories, asked questions, and he shared parts of his own.

He remembered the ladies stepping into his car who felt familiar in conversation. He felt attraction that appeared to be mutual. They even exchanged phone numbers with a few of them. Okay, maybe a bit more than a few. Yet he chose to stay loyal to Julie. Why? It just felt right. Until he started questioning himself.

He had dedicated his life to her and to the kids.

The kids were happy sometimes when he got back. Julie was not as pleased as when they started dating many years ago… He tried to come with some gifts. She didn’t value them much. She asked for help, which he often couldn’t provide. Or chose not to.

“You’re simply trying to escape from me and from the kids to your stupid driver job!” she had once shouted.

He had wanted to slam the door.

But he closed it carefully and coldly.

An old man with a slight accent was one of the passengers Marcus remembered almost every day.

“Nice weather, huh?” the man said with the polite half-smile that only very old people seem to master.

“It’s raining,” Marcus replied.

“It’s not a storm,” the old man shrugged. “That’s already something.”

Marcus smiled faintly. They drove in silence for a minute.

“You married?” the man asked suddenly, as if continuing a conversation that had started years ago.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Almost ten years.”

The old man nodded slowly.

“Long enough to start thinking about leaving,” he said. "Almost enough."

Marcus glanced at him in the mirror.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence again. The wipers moved back and forth.

“I used to believe,” the old man continued, looking out the window, “that every change meant improvement.”

Marcus didn’t answer.

“Better city. Better woman. Better job.”

He gave a quiet, dry laugh.

“I changed everything many times.”

“And?” Marcus asked before he could stop himself.

“In the end,” the man said calmly, “I had more stories.”

A pause.

“But fewer people who remembered them with me.”

Marcus tightened his grip on the wheel.

“At the end of life,” the old man went on, almost casually, “you don’t count what you changed.”

He looked at Marcus in the mirror.

“You count what you managed to keep.”

The car felt smaller.

“Keeping is harder than leaving,” the man added.

They stopped at a red light.

“My son invites me for birthdays,” the old man said. “I’m always just one of the guests.”

No bitterness. Just fact.

The light turned green.

When they reached the destination, the old man paid and opened the door.

“Don’t rush decisions,” he said quietly.

Marcus forced a half-smile.

“What makes you think I’m rushing?”

The old man stepped out, closed the door gently, and leaned toward the open window.

“Because I did.”

And he walked away.

Julia always tried to stay positive.

Yes, things had gone dramatically wrong. She could never have imagined this would happen to her.

She recalled the days when the tension rose.

Rose, she repeated inwardly.

Rose… like a flower.

Was there any connection?

Probably not.

And besides, she had never liked roses.

She remembered his words:

“I deserve respect. I’m doing so much for this family! And what now? You’re just nagging at me again and again! I’m tired after work. I’m not just sitting in an office like you!” he had sounded annoyed.

“What… are you talking about?” she paused deliberately.

His gaze felt unfamiliar, almost hostile.

“I’m the one who takes care of the kids on top of my work,” she pronounced each word carefully.

“Well! I’m not spacing out either, as you may have noticed,” Marcus didn’t give up.

“Get out!” she said in despair.

He slammed the door and went out into the night. Spent time somewhere. Returned home only to take Jennie to school. It was his turn.

They didn’t have conflicts. Usually. This had been one of the worst. Those memories kept coming back to her. Again and again. And then — the disappearing house, the screaming bird from the dream. And she — lost in the mist.

Time after time he had said hurtful words. She had too.

And now he was planning to leave. For real. And she was planning to stay. He wasn’t leaving because of the kids. But both knew they would be shocked by that turn.

Marcus had another order on the outskirts of the city. He picked up a young guy heading to meet his girlfriend in the city center.

Marcus was barely involved in the conversation.

The boy talked about his mom raising him alone. About girls at school. About clubs and an easy life. Grandparents? “Old sacks,” he laughed.

“No offense. I mean, who even raises a guy like that? Someone who just bails on his own family? And a useless mom on top of that?”

He shrugged, glancing out the window.

“Well, I love my mom,” he added.

Marcus doubted that love ran very deep.

He imagined himself coming to Alex’s birthday as just one of the guests.

Had he always been looking for change?

He knew he had.

But not out of vanity. Not out of insecurity. Actually, the reason wasn’t even that important anymore.

The real question was — did he truly value his life? His choices? Was he strong enough to stand by what he had once believed in?

When they arrived, the boy asked for change.

Marcus counted the coins.

“Don’t rush decisions,” he said.

The boy laughed. “Why?”

He paused.

He wasn’t even sure why he had said it.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just… take care.”

Marcus cut through the apartment blocks and back onto the street.

He remembered the dream Julie had shared with him. Back then he had said lightly, “Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe we don’t need to hold on to the house we built together. Maybe we’re meant to grow apart.” He had seen her tears. He knew she was strong. But he didn’t know whether he had been right back then.

Marcus didn’t smile now. He wasn’t sad either. He just knew what he was going to do.

He drove out of downtown.

Turned left at the traffic light toward the parkway.

Cut through narrow streets to save time.

And then stayed in the car for several minutes before going home.

He didn’t feel tired.

He didn’t feel hopeful either.

He just felt clear.

When he reached their floor and turned the key in the lock…

Something inside him felt different. As if the scattered pieces of who he used to be were slowly coming back together.

When Marc opened the door, the smell of dinner met him first.

The apartment was quiet.

Julie stepped out slowly.

He didn’t want to run from himself anymore.

He wasn’t looking for something new.

He was choosing to keep what they had built together.

“You look… different,” she said. “What happened?”

He shrugged slightly, as if unsure how to begin.

“I thought a lot,” he said. “While driving… you know…”

Julie waited.

“I’m not leaving,” he added. “If you want me to stay.”

He looked at her the way he had when they first met.

“I was… wrong.” Marc looked serious, but calm.

Her look was a question.

“It’s a long story,” he paused. “I mean… if you’re ready to listen.”

A small smile appeared on her lips — careful, almost afraid to believe him.

He squeezed her hand. Her fingers tightened slightly in response.

“I think… I’ve found what I was looking for.”

He let out a quiet breath.

“You don’t have to believe me. But I think I know what matters.”

She stood there for a moment, as if unsure what to do next.

Then she stepped closer. He was still in the hallway, in his light autumn jacket, as if he hadn’t fully come inside yet.

She wrapped her arms around him.

His hands settled at her waist.

“I wasn’t sure you still wanted me,” he almost whispered.

“When you didn’t answer my message…”

For a few seconds they simply stood like that, looking at each other. There was something quiet and almost unreal in just being there — in remembering how hard it had once been to find one another, and how close they had come to losing it.

She was silent.

Words felt too small.

Her eyes answered before she did.