27 October 2025
Today I watched Emily clutch the test results so hard her knuckles turned white. The thin paper was damp with her sweat. The waiting room at the local health centre on Abbey Street was packed; there was no room to move.
Emily Thompson! called the nurse, voice sharp.
Emily rose, walked into the consultation room. The doctor, a stout woman with tired eyes, took the file from Emilys hands and flicked through the pages.
Sit down, please, she said, glancing at the results with a detached stare.
Everything looks normal. Have your husband get checked, she announced.
A chill ran down Emilys spine. James? But he was
***
Back home, Margaret Harris was chopping cabbage for a stew, the knife moving as if she were slashing through enemies.
Whats the news, dear? she asked without looking up.
Everythings fine with me, Emily muttered, pulling off her coat.
And why then Margaret finally lifted her eyes, a flash of worry in them. James needs a checkup.
The knife hung in the air. Margaret straightened like a taut string.
What nonsense! My son is perfectly healthy. Its your doctors who dont understand anything. Women used to have children without all these tests.
Emily slipped into the hallway. A pair of socks lay on the sofaone navy, one black. She scooped them up instinctively and tossed them into the laundry basket. In three years of marriage those mismatched socks had become a quiet metaphor for their life: separate, never quite a pair.
James came home late.
Whats with the funeral face? he grumbled, flopping into his armchair.
James, we need to talk, Emily said.
About what?
She handed him the papers. He skimmed them, then shoved them onto the coffee table.
So?
You need to get examined.
Why on earth? James leapt up, pacing the room. Im a healthy bloke! Look at me!
He was broadshouldered, darkhaired, the picture of vigor. Yet health, as we learned, isnt always visible.
Please, James Emily pleaded.
Enough! he snapped. If you dont want kids, just say it! Why all this charade with doctors?
From the kitchen came the soft thud of slippers. Margaret lingered in the doorway, breathing so loudly you could hear each inhale.
I want children more than anything, Emily whispered.
Then why arent there any? Are you hiding something? Have you had abortions and now cant have more? Margarets accusation cut deep. Emily recoiled.
How could you
How could I? James roared. Three years and nothing! And now the doctors tell me Im He stopped, fists clenched.
The door burst open. Margaret stormed in like a freight train.
James, dont listen to her! Its all laziness. Work more, stop skulking to the doctors.
Emily glanced at James, who turned his gaze out the window.
James, do you really think I
I dont know what to think, James muttered through clenched teeth. One things clear: a fit man doesnt go to the GP.
Margaret nodded triumphantly. Exactly, son. This isnt a mans businesswandering around hospitals.
Something inside Emily snapped, as if a stretched wire had finally broken.
Fine, she said, voice steady.
The next day the house turned into a battlefield. Salt spilled on the counter, a pot wasnt rinsed, dust gathered on the dresser. Emily clenched her teeth and kept quiet.
Maybe you shouldnt be at home at all, Margaret sneered over dinner. Get a job instead of gallivanting to doctors.
James chewed his meatball without looking up.
I work, Emily replied.
Three days a week isnt work, its a hobby.
What does my work have to do with this?
Nothing! My son is healthy, and youre trying to make him look sick! When there are no children, its the womans fault! Its always been that way!
Emily rose, legs trembling.
Whats wrong with you? Margaret asked, surprised. Youve just eaten and youre running off?
Im tired, Emily said softly.
Tired? From what? Three days a week of work cant be that hard!
James finally met Emilys eyes, a flicker of pity there, but he said nothing.
That night I lay awake listening to Jamess snore. It used to be comfortingproof that I wasnt alone. Now it grated on me. How had I never realised his stubbornness before?
Morning came and I packed a small rucksack with a few dresses, some underwear, my toiletry bag.
Where are you off to? Margaret called from the kitchen doorway, a mug in hand.
To my mothers, I answered.
For how long?
I dont know.
James emerged from the bathroom, spotting the bag.
Whats this, Emily?
Just what you see.
You serious?
What else? You wont get examined, Mom blames me for everything. Why should I stay?
He stepped closer, voice low. Dont be daft. Where are you going?
To Grandma Roses place.
To that little shed? Its only a mile away!
Its cramped, but Im not offended.
Margaret scoffed. Fine. Let her go. Shell learn how nice life was back then.
James shot a furious glance at his mother but said nothing.
Emily shouldered the bag and headed for the door.
Emily! James called.
She turned. He stood in the hallway, hair damp from his shower, looking bewildered.
When will you be back?
When you finally see a doctor.
The door slammed shut behind her.
***
Roses cottage was tinyone bed, a table, two chairs, an ancient TVbut spotless and filled with the sweet scent of vanilla, a reminder of the biscuits she always baked.
Whats happened, love? Rose asked, setting a kettle on the stove.
Emily unfolded the story. Rose listened, nodding slowly.
Oh dear Men can be terrible that way. Proud, and admitting somethings wrong feels like a death sentence to them.
So Im just supposed to wait forever for him to admit hes ill?
No. You did right by leaving. Let him think.
The first few days passed quietly. Emily set up a makeshift bed in the corner, helped Rose with chores. James called a couple of times, shouting into the receiver. She let the calls go to voicemail.
Then Rose complained of chest pain. An ambulance rushed her to the hospital.
Dont worry, love, Rose whispered as they wheeled her away. Im old, things happen.
At the ward, Roses condition improved. Emily visited daily, bringing homecooked meals and news.
Hows James? Rose asked one afternoon.
Not much, Emily said. Hes called a few times, just yelling.
Did you answer?
The first time, yes. The second, no. Whats the point of hearing the same rant?
Maybe hes finally gone to the doctor?
Unlikely.
In the corridor, a young doctor in a white coat brushed past hera tall, blond fellow with kind eyes.
Excuse me, Emily said.
No problem. Who are you looking for?
Roses granddaughter, Emily.
Oh, Mrs. E. Kuznetsova! Shes a lovely patient. Im Dr. Daniel Morgan, cardiologist.
Pleasure, Doctor. She forced a smile. Dont worry about Rose; its just age now.
He explained Roses treatment, his hands steady, nails trimmed. Emily felt a strange comfort in watching him.
Thank you for looking after her, she said.
He lingered a while longer, then left. The next day he returned, then again the day after. Emily began arriving early, hoping to catch another glimpse.
Emily, the doctor wants to know if youll be in today, Rose teased one morning, eyes twinkling.
Wants to know what?
Just that he asks, Hows your granddaughter doing? Hes a decent lad, by the way, and single.
Emily flushed. Grandma, what are you on about?
Its obvious youre free. Your James
Im married.
Pfft.
A week later Daniel was transferred to another ward. On his last day he approached Emily in the hallway.
Ill miss you, he said simply.
Ill miss you too, she admitted.
He handed her his card. If you ever need anything or just want to talk.
Their fingers brushed.
Thank you.
And also youre beautiful, but you look sad. I hope it lifts soon.
Rose was discharged and grew stronger, yet Emily still feared leaving her alone.
James called now and then; sometimes she answered, sometimes she let it ring out. The final call was a shouted tirade accusing her of being a spoiled girl. She hung up and never lifted the handset again.
A month later a strangers voice rang out.
Emily? This is Daniels mother. He gave me your number
Is everything alright?
No, no Its just his birthday tomorrow. Hed love to see you, if you can make it.
Emily hesitated, but Rose, overhearing, waved her hands encouragingly.
Go on, love! When was the last time you had fun?
The birthday went well. Daniel was attentive, never overbearing. When he walked her to the door, he said, Id like to see you again. May I?
Yes, she whispered.
They began seeing each other slowly, gently. No questions, no pressurejust presence. Sometimes she spent the night at his flat.
Then, unexpectedly, Emily discovered she was pregnant.
Will you marry me? Daniel asked when she told him.
Of course, she laughed, tears of joy spilling over.
A year later Emily pushed a pram along the park pathway. Daniel walked beside her, cracking jokes. Their son, Milo, slept peacefully in the stroller.
Across the path, James and Margaret appeared, frozen as statues.
Emily kept her stride, head held high. In Jamess eyes she saw the full weight of regret, sorrow, and yearning.
Margaret tugged at Jamess sleeve.
Come on, Jamie, she said.
He didnt move. He stared at the pram, at the smiling Emily, at Daniel, at Milo. He finally understood the depth of his mistake, but it was far too late.
The day ends with me, the man who once thought health was just a matter of pride, realizing that stubbornness can cost more than a few weeks of waiting. Ive learned that listening, humility, and willingness to face uncomfortable truths are worth more than any denial. My own lesson: never let pride keep you from the doctoror from the people you love.
