Emily adored James with a devotion that would make a saint blush. Shed forgive him for almost anything, even the odd disappearance that left her checking the neighbours garden for clues.
They wed when Emily was barely out of school, just nineteen. Shed been chasing James since she was fifteen, trying to look older than her school uniform. At first he barely noticed her; she was just a tiny girl in his eyes. When she grew into a striking young woman, James thought, Why not take whats already drifting into my lap?
James was twentyfour, Emily eighteen. Their relationship was a peculiar sort of knotmore tangled than a British traffic jam.
James could vanish for days, phone silent, messages unanswered, as if hed taken a solo stroll through the Lake District. Then hed pop back like nothing had happened, and Emily would wait, her eyes wet but hopeful. Hed whisper that she was his only love, while his freespirited nature kept him on the prowl.
Emily clung to the belief that someday hed change, that hed love her as fiercely as she loved him.
Emilys childhood friend Mark lived down the lane. Theyd shared a sandbox, a schoolyard, and later a cramped flat in Manchester. Mark had loved Emily in secret for years, though he knew she saw him only as a mate. It hurt him to watch her undervalue herself, not realizing she deserved the very best.
Mark understood that if Emily ever returned his feelings, hed move mountains for her. But he also knew she was enchanted by James, as if under a spell, and he stayed in the background, silently supportive.
When James disappeared again or started a pointless argument, Emily would pour her heart out to Mark.
Why does he treat me like this? I love him so much shed sigh.
Maybe you should stop loving him, Mark would mutter, halfironic, halfexasperated.
Emily would protest, I cant! Dont you get it?
Mark understood perfectlyhe, too, could give up his love for her, but that felt impossible. So he listened, feeling her pain as if it were his own.
Jamess behaviour grew wilder. He drank more, flirted openly, and Emily, in a moment of classic romantic folly, decided the only way to anchor him was pregnancy. She naively thought a baby would straighten James out, that hed finally settle down and cherish both her and their child.
At nineteen, Emily discovered she was expecting. She told James, hoping for a spark of joy.
Well have to get married, I guess, she whispered, cheeks flushed. Even if the bellys still hidden.
James grunted, Probably.
Why James finally agreed to the altar was a mysteryperhaps he thought something might work out, or perhaps he simply hadnt figured out how to say no.
Emily felt like the happiest bride anyone could imagine. Mark, meanwhile, watched her glowing with a mixture of admiration and a pinch of jealousy, wishing he could whisk her away and keep her forever. He didnt act on it, though; he offered a false toast of happiness while drowning his own disappointment in a pint.
Emily and James welcomed a son, Oliver. At first James tried to be a proper dad and husbandless wandering, more helping with nappies, fewer shouting matches. But within a year, the old habits crept back. When Oliver turned one, James vanished for three days, leaving Emily frantically ringing oncall numbers for the morgue, the GP, and every of Jamess mates.
Mark was there again, keeping Oliver company while Emily scoured the town, even filing a police report, only for James to wobble back in, dishevelled and hungover.
Emily wailed, demanding answers.
Im not obliged to report to you, James snapped, marching into the kitchen. Oliver began to cry, but James was too busy nursing his hangover.
From that point, James played the onoff card. Each return gave Emily a fresh glimmer of hope that he might finally change.
When Oliver turned three, James finally left for good. He vanished one morning, and Emily, picking up Oliver from nursery, found the house stripped of his belongings.
While she tried to make sense of the chaos, a message pinged on her phone: Ill file for divorce myself. Dont wait for me.
Emilys world collapsed. She screamed, felt she couldnt go on. Mark swooped in instantly, spending the whole next day with her and Oliver, making sure she didnt do anything rash.
When Emily steadied herself, Mark made his move.
Alright then, Ill be your husband and Olivers dad, he said.
Emily looked at him, shook her head. Im sorry, Mark. I love you as a friend, and Im grateful for everything youve done, but I cant see you as a partner.
I know, Mark replied coolly. But I love you more than just a friend. I wont let you suffer any longer.
He could barely string a sentence together. Emily, shattered, simply nodded, allowing him to stay.
Mark didnt press further. He stayed, caring for Oliver as if he were his own, never forcing the issue. Emily watched Marks steady devotion and realised no other man could love her son the way he did, nor look after her as gently.
She gave innot out of love, but out of sheer helplessness.
Mark was over the moon when Emily agreed to marry him. The day Oliver first called him dad, Mark even shed a tear.
Life settled into a pictureperfect family that neighbours envied. Sometimes Mark thought Emily might love him as a husband, not just a friend. Other times he frettedwhat if James turned up? What if Emily abandoned everything to return to her wayward ex?
He lived teetering between joy and dread, waking at night from nightmare after nightmare.
Then the nightmare materialised. Oliver was turning six, and Emily and Mark had organised a grand birthday bash. First, Oliver and his mates bounced around a trampoline park; later they returned home to a cake and presents.
Just as Oliver was about to blow out the candles, the doorbell rang.
Someone else stopping by to wish him happy birthday? Emily laughed, heading to the door.
Mark answered, not even peeking through the peephole. The moment he opened it, a cold shiver slithered down his spine. Standing on the doorstep was James, clutching a strange, threadbare plush rabbit.
He sneered at Mark. Still here, are you? Wheres my son? I came to wish him a happy birthday.
Emilys face went pale. Oliver froze, then looked between the two men.
Dad, whos that? he asked Mark.
Jamess smile faltered. Dad, then?
Mark, get Oliver out of here, Emily said, voice trembling.
Please, she whispered.
Mark felt the old, familiar tug of destiny, the same spell that had once haunted Emily. He knew hed never hand Oliver over; he was his son in every meaningful way.
Mark played with Oliver in the living room, surrounded by piles of gifts. Yet his mind lingered on the doorway, waiting for Emily to signal whether he should stay or flee.
Emily entered, hands shaking, a forced smile glued to her face.
So, hows the party? she asked.
Were playing! Oliver shouted. Did Uncle? he trailed off.
Yes, he left. Weve blown the candles, but we havent touched the cake yet!
Oliver dashed to the kitchen, and Mark grabbed Emilys elbow, looking at her.
Whats wrong? she asked, trying to keep the cheer.
Nothing, she replied, just dont let him smash the cake. Well be broke at the dentist otherwise.
Mark smiled, then took Emilys hand toward the kitchen.
Maybe the wild, reckless love of her youth was truly gone. Maybe a flicker of affection still lingered, but wisdom had replaced foolishness. Marks love had finally melted Emilys icy heart, and she now knew she was happier than everno longer haunted by a tempestuous past that never truly brought her anything good.
