On a carpet of golden leaves…
Emily glanced at the medication chart, picked up another blister pack, and pressed the pills into plastic cups. Another ordinary daypreparing doses for patients.
*This is how life slips by, one monotonous task after another. Alone.* Her heart ached like a fresh wound, stinging with every memory of yesterdayevery cruel word her husband had thrown at her.
She tossed the empty blister into the bin beside the desk, grabbed a bottle, and poured a handful of tablets onto her palm, speeding up as she sorted them. But her mind was elsewhere, lost in the past…
“Emily, what are you *doing*?” The head nurses voice snapped her back. Startled, Emily flinched. The bottle slipped, spilling pills across the tray.
“Whats wrong with you?” the nurse hissed. “You couldve killed someone with the wrong dose! Step away from the table!” She nudged Emily aside, scowling. “Good grief, what a mess!”
“Im sorry, Margaret, Ill fix it” Emily grabbed a cup, dumped the pills onto her palm, and froze, unsure what to do next.
“Give me those! How dyou expect to sort them now?” Margaret snatched the pills and tossed them in the bin.
“I just spaced out for a second” Emilys hands shook as she stared at the cups.
“If I hadnt walked in, who knows what couldve happened? Fancy a prison sentence?”
“I dont know how it happened,” Emily whispered, sinking onto a chair. She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders trembling with silent sobs.
“Please tell me you didnt start the injections yet?”
Emily shook her head, still crying.
“Youve never been this careless. Youre not some rookie.”
“My husband he left me yesterday” Her voice cracked, muffled by her hands.
“Ah. Right.” Margaret sighed, dumping the remaining pills. “Ill handle this. Youre in no state to work. One mistakes enoughI wont risk my neck for your meltdown.”
Emily finally pulled her hands away, standing abruptly. “Margaret, I”
“Sit. Better yet, go home. Write a leave request starting tomorrow. Ill explain to Matron.”
“But I was saving my leave for when my daughter has the baby” Emily swiped at her smudged mascara.
“A weeks enough to pull yourself together. Youll have time later. Now *go*. And keep quietunless you fancy getting sacked.”
Emily blinked, dazed.
“Honestly, the thought of what couldve happened” Margaret groaned. “Though our patients are sharptheydve kicked up a fuss if youd handed them double doses.” She exhaled, calmer now, her plump frame straining against her white coat. Emily looked tiny beside her.
“Wash your face. All husbands stray eventually, even the decent ones.” Margaret resumed sorting pills. “WaitIll call you a cab. In this state, youll walk into traffic.”
Too drained to argue, Emily wrote the request, changed, grabbed her handbag, and left. A black cab waited outside. She slid into the backseat and gave her address.
Home felt unbearable. *Hes probably thrilled with his new fling, while I nearly killed patients. Pull yourself together* Her phone rangher daughter, Lucy.
“Mum, hi!” Lucys cheerful voice was a balm. The horror faded. No harm done.
“Love you, sweetheart. You okay?”
“Great! You at work?”
“In a cab. Theyve given me a week off.”
“Why? You sick?”
“No, just needed. Can I come stay with you?”
“Course! When?”
“Tomorrow, if I get a train ticket”
She barely noticed the cab stopping outside her flat.
“Sorry, love. Were here,” the driver said.
“Oh! How much do I owe you?”
He smirked. “Paid by card when it was booked.”
“Right” *Margaret mustve paid.* She stepped out.
“Mum, whore you talking to?” Lucy asked.
“The driver. Ill call back once Ive got my ticket” She reached for her bag. Gone.
Her stomach dropped. The cab was already driving offwith her bag inside. Weak-legged, she staggered to a bench, brushed aside fallen leaves, and collapsed. *Margarets right. Im losing it.*
She mentally inventoried the bag: keys in her coat pocket, phone in hand but her wallet! *Cards!* She leapt up. *Block them now!*
She stared down the road, hoping the cab might return. *Wishful thinking.* She blocked the card, then trudged inside.
The flat echoed with emptiness. She slumped onto the ottoman, fury boiling up. *His fault Im like this. And he doesnt even care.*
*Maybe I shouldnt go?* But Lucy was waiting, and staying here was unbearable. She grabbed her emergency cash stash (everyone had one) and bought a train ticket.
At the station, she calmed. The card was blocked, shed buy a new bag, and her husbands betrayal suddenly seemed smaller. *No ones died. Lucys having a baby* She fell asleep dreaming of her daughter.
London greeted her with drizzle. Later, she told Lucy about her father.
“Mum, *dont* take him back if he crawls home,” Lucy warned.
Emily imagined him panicking to find her gone. Let him sweat.
But when she returned, his things were untouched.
Her neighbour, Dorisa thrice-married septuagenarian still chasing romanceasked about Lucy over tea.
“Oh! Forgota man came asking for you. Handsome fellow, very polite. Wanted something Cant recall.”
“No worries. Hell come back,” Emily said.
“Odd, though. Didnt know your name. What if hes a conman?”
Emily laughed. “A thief wouldnt wait a week. Theres nothing to steal.”
Back home, she returned to work. Margaret watched her closely but relented.
That evening, her doorbell rang. A striking man held out her bag.
“Mind if I come in? Bit awkward on the doorstep.”
She stepped aside.
“Found this in a cab. Driver remembered yousaid you seemed upset, talking nonstop.”
“Howd you find me?”
“He dropped you here. Your neighbour helped.”
She checked the wallet. Everything intact.
“I blocked my card,” she blurted.
“Smart. Never know these people.”
She offered him £50.
“Not why Im here.” He turned to leave.
“Thank you!”
“James,” he called over his shoulder.
He returned that weekend with flowers.
“These werent in the cab,” she teased.
“Your neighbour told me everything. These are for you.” He grinned. “We never met properly. Im James.”
“Emily. But you knew that.”
“Fancy ballroom dancing? Ive got no partner.”
“I cant dance!”
“Ill teach you. Wear something comfy.”
*Why not?* she thought. *Let my ex imagine me dancing, not crying.*
She went. James was graceful; she stepped on his toes. Over tea, she admitted shed loved itthe way he guided her, how safe she felt.
They kept dancing. One night, she came home buzzingand tripped over a suitcase.
*Hes back.*
Her husband emerged. “Em, Im sorry. She cant cookIve got heartburn from takeaways. Lets start over. Weve got Lucy, the baby”
“Too late,” she said, hanging her coat.
“Youre out late. You had a morning shift.”
“Im a free woman now.”
“Youre still my wife!”
“For now. Lucy said never to forgive you. Shes right.”
“Youve replaced me already?”
“You left *me*,” she said, kicking the suitcase. “Good thing you didnt unpack. Take it and go.”
He begged, but she stood firm.
“Fine. But dont think youre keeping the flat”
“Lucys on the deed. And soon, her son will be too.”
“Bitch!” He stormed out.
She laughed until tears came.
At the next dance class, James paced the studio.
“Emily! I thought you wouldnt come”
They danced. She was radiant, light as air, lost in his admiring gaze.
“Look at Emily!” the instructor cheered. “Thats how its done!”
She smiled at James, seeing only him.
