Eleanor Smith loved Oliver Clarke with a ferocity that made her forgive anything he did.
They were married the moment she was barely a girljust after she turned nineteen. Since she was sixteen she had chased him down the streets of London, trying to act older than her seventeenyearold self. At first Oliver barely noticed her; she was just a small, shy girl in his eyes. When she grew into a striking beauty, he decided that a chance like this should not be missed.
Oliver was twentyfour, Eleanor eighteen, and their relationship was odd, offkilter from the start. He would disappear for days, his mobile silent, his friends wondering where he had gone. Then he would stroll back into their flat as if nothing had happened, and Eleanor would be waiting, tears on her cheeks, believing his whispered promiseI love only youeven though his nature was freespirited, never settled. She clung to the hope that one day he would change, that he would love her as deeply as she loved him.
James Fletcher had been Eleanors friend since nursery. They grew up on the same council estate, went to the same primary school, and James had loved her in secret for years. He knew she saw him only as a mate, and the thought that she didnt value herself hurt him. He understood she deserved someone who would cherish her properly. He also knew that if she ever returned his feelings, he would do anything for her, but he also understood that would never happenher heart belonged to Oliver, as if he had bewitched her, and James stayed in the background, everpresent but unseen.
When Oliver vanished again or started arguments for no reason, Eleanor would run to James, sobbing.
Why does he treat me like this? I love him so much
Maybe you should stop loving him, James snapped, anger flashing in his eyes.
I cant, you dont understand
James understood all too well. He would have gladly given up his love for her, but he could not. He watched her pain, feeling powerless.
Oliver grew more uncontrollable. He began drinking heavily, flirting openly with other women, and Eleanor, desperate to hold onto something, made the greatest mistake a lovestruck girl could makeshe became pregnant, naïvely believing a child would fix everything, that Oliver would finally settle down, value her, and love their baby.
At nineteen she told Oliver. His face was blank, no spark of joy.
We should get married, I suppose, she whispered, cheeks flushing, before anyone can see the bump.
Probably, he muttered, brow furrowed.
Why he finally agreed to the wedding was unclear; perhaps he thought something would come of it, or perhaps he simply didnt know he could walk away.
Eleanor was the happiest bride in the whole neighbourhood, her eyes bright with hope. For James, the day was a funeral in his heart. He watched her radiant, wished he could whisk her away, lock her inside his flat and never let her go until she saw that he was far better than Oliver. He never acted on it, instead offering a hypocritical toast to her future, drowning his own disappointment in pints at the local pub.
When their son was born, they named him Arthur. At first Oliver tried to be a decent father and husband. He stopped disappearing, cut back on nights out, helped with the baby, and arguments with Eleanor became rare.
But the peace was shortlived. When Arthur turned twelve months old, Oliver fell back into his old habits. He vanished for three days, leaving Eleanor frantic, calling the coroners office, the hospital, and even his mates for any clue.
James was there, holding Arthur while Eleanor scoured the citys seedy backstreets looking for Oliver. She even filed a police report, and just as the officers were taking her statement, Oliver staggered back through the front door.
Why are you shouting at me? I dont have to answer to you, Oliver snapped, moving into the kitchen without a glance at his sobbing son. Arthur wailed, but Oliver, hungover, paid him no mind.
From that moment Oliver stopped pretending. He would come and go, and each time Eleanor would take him back, clinging to the hope that he would finally change.
When Arthur turned three, Oliver left for good. At first Eleanor thought he had simply gone out again, but after picking Arthur up from the nursery she found the flat empty of his clothes and belongings.
She stared at her phone, shaking, when a message blinked on the screen:
Im filing for divorce. Dont wait for me.
Eleanor screamed, her voice breaking the quiet of the evening, feeling as though life itself had ripped away. James rushed to her side the moment he heard, staying with her and Arthur for a full day, making tea, changing nappies, keeping her from doing anything reckless.
When the storm of grief finally subsided a little, James gathered his courage.
Ill be your husband now. And Arthurs dad.
Eleanor looked at her longtime friend, her head shaking.
Im sorry, James, but I cant love you that way. I love you as a friend, and Im grateful for everything youve done, but as a husband I just cant.
James face hardened.
I know. But I love you more than just a friend, and I wont let you suffer any longer.
He could not find the words to argue. Eleanor, shattered, could only nod, letting him stay.
James never pressed further. He remained by Eleanors side, caring for Arthur as if he were his own son, never forcing a timeline. Eleanor watched James, and the thought that no one else could love her child or look after her as he did settled in her heart. She surrendered, not out of love, but out of sheer hopelessness.
When James finally asked her to marry him, she said yes, and when Arthur first called him Dad, James wept openly in the kitchen. Their life settled into a warm, enviable domestic bliss. Sometimes James convinced himself that Eleanor loved him as a man, not just a friend; other times, a cold dread seized himwhat if Oliver turned up again? What if Eleanor abandoned everything for that reckless, lost husband? He lived between two flames, the joy of his new family and the nightmare of his past return.
Then the nightmare crossed into reality. Arthurs sixth birthday arrived, and Eleanor and James prepared a grand party: a bounce house in the garden, a towering chocolate cake, balloons everywhere. As Arthur blew out his candles, the doorbell rang.
James said, Ill get it, and opened the door without looking through the peephole, feeling a cold, sticky fear crawl into his chest. Standing there was Oliver, clutching a strange plush rabbit, his eyes glittering with a familiar menace.
Wheres my son? Oliver snarled, I came to wish him a happy birthday.
Eleanors face went pale, and she shouted, Whos that, James? while Arthur stared, bewildered.
Dad, whos this? Arthur asked, looking at James.
Olivers smile twisted. Dad, then he muttered, as if the word was a spell.
James, get Arthur out of here, Eleanor whispered, voice trembling.
Please, James pleaded, his gaze locked on Oliver, the old spell of control flickering in his mind. He would never hand Arthur over.
James kept playing with Arthur, handing out presents, while his eyes never left the doorway, waiting for Eleanor to tell him when to retreat.
When Eleanor finally entered the kitchen, her hands shook, her smile forced.
How are you all doing? she asked, trying to sound normal.
Were playing! Arthur shouted, giggling, Did Uncle leave?
Yeah, we blew the candles, but we havent touched the cake yet!
James grabbed Eleanors elbow, looking at her with a mixture of protectiveness and pleading.
Lets go before he ruins the whole thing, she said, her voice barely a whisper.
James kissed her forehead, then turned to Arthur.
He wont be back. He doesnt matter; Arthur has a real father now.
Eleanor pressed her forehead to his.
And you? she asked.
All I need is you, he replied, his smile finally genuine.
They walked back into the kitchen together, hand in hand, leaving the doorway where Oliver stood, his smile fading as the party laughter drowned his presence.
The wild, reckless love of her youth was now a distant echo, replaced by a steadier, wiser affection. Jamess love had melted the ice around Eleanors heart, and she finally knew she was happy, perhaps for the first time, as a mother, a wife, and a woman who had learned that love, when rooted in respect and care, could survive any storm.
