Emily had been alone for a long while. Her father had vanished years ago, and she lost her mother while studying for her final year at university. It was a bleak season: the dissertation loomed, yet grief sat heavy on her chest. The only hand that steadied her was the family of James, the only man she still felt close to.
James and Emily had met in their second year and had been inseparable ever since. His parents, Margaret and Peter Davies, welcomed Emily with a warmth that seemed to melt the cold stone of her loss. They respected her mothers memory and all waited for the day when the studies would end and the two would walk down the aisle.
The wedding was modest, and Emilynow called Tessfelt a pang of sorrow that her mother had barely missed that moment. She recalled her mothers parting advice: Before you marry, you must have a checkup, dear.
Tess knew why her mother warned her. As a child she had taken a tumble down an icy hill, a fracture that doctors feared might scar her future womanhood. They watched her, but no one could give a definite answer, and the uncertainty clung to her like a lingering mist.
Before the wedding she obeyed the mothers counsel and underwent another examination. Though her overall health seemed restored, the question of bearing a child still floated, untethered. She first spoke with her future motherinlaw, who paused, then said:
If theres even a sliver of hope, dont mourn before the time is right. Ill talk to James myself.
After the bachelor party James arrived home, a little tipsy, his eyes clouded with worry.
I want children, Tess, understand? What if we cant? Would we still be a family? he asked.
Tess broke down, telling him the choice was his. We could try, she whispered, clinging to the thin thread of hope the doctors had left, for James was the only man she had ever loved.
The first year of marriage brought no news. Margaret, who loved her daughterinlaw dearly, shared her grief. The couple, with Jamess father, pushed hard to keep the marriage alive, sending Tess to a specialist clinic in Manchester for a Womens Protector programme. It promised good results and the possibility of a dream fulfilled.
Yet the programme failed. Two years later, hope evaporated. Tess sank into despair; James did what he could to support her, but tension crept into the home. He never blamed her, yet he could not accept a childless life. Emily, feeling a strange shift, suggested adoption:
Lets take a little one in our care and raise it as our own.
James recoiled.
This foreign child will never be mine, and I cant give him a fathers love. Understand me, TessI cant do it.
Strangely, his parents backed his decision. They knew their son longed for a child and felt it would be cruel to raise a child unloved.
Emily, still loving James, broached divorce herself, not wishing to torment him.
Lets part, James. Youre still young; youll find another wife and have children.
James hesitated, but when he met Olivia, a vivacious new colleague who had just started at his firm, he sensed destiny in her smile.
Their conversation was a heavy weight for him; he felt he was betraying Emily, leaving her to fate. Emily answered, Everyone has their own fate. You deserve a brighter one. Dont blame yourself.
That night James packed his belongings and left. Margaret and Peter visited Emily, apologising, Were sorry we didnt steer James away. He came home drunk and upset a few times; we feared hed drown in his sorrows. Well always be here for you, as a daughter.
Their words washed over her like rain, yet she wept through the night. The separation was swift; they divided little, leaving Emily alone in the family flat they had shared. James soon remarried.
Emily did not stay solitary for long. She met a kindhearted man named Paul, who showered her with attention, though her heart remained elsewhere. In her dreams the spectre of James lingered, his eyes sad, his hands reaching for her but never quite touching. She fought the memories, yearning to rewrite her life.
One winter night, while preparing dinner at Pauls, a sudden fever seized her. She collapsed, and Paul called an ambulance, keeping her under his roof. The next morning he was silent, tending to her alone. When she finally recovered, he confessed:
Last night you called for him, calling him Jimmy, clutching at my arm. Do you still love him?
Emily, unable to lie to the good man before her, answered, Yes. Im perhaps a onelove soul. Its hard, Paul. I cant build a relationship without love.
She left him forever; he did not protest. Not long after, Emily learned that James had welcomed a longawaited son. The news struck her like a cold wind, deepening a wound she thought had begun to heal.
Three years drifted by in a fog. Jamess parents visited as promised, offering moral support. She bore no ill will toward them or her exhusband. One afternoon she saw James strolling with his son in a park; he did not notice her, and tears fell again, a mix of lingering love and resentment toward destiny.
Gradually, she found steadiness. She learned that Jamess wife, Olivia, was a good mother, though distant, and she adored their grandson, Edward. She told them, I hold no grudges. He never deceived me; he loved in his own way, and I chose the divorce.
On her birthday, James called, friendly and brief, wishing her happiness. The call jolted her once more, stirring old aches. She resolved to keep her distance.
A year later, tragedy struck: Olivia fell ill. Margaret called, voice trembling, saying there was little hope. She wept for her son and grandson. Emily felt no place to stand, haunted by worry.
At a cemetery, Emily lingered behind the mourners, unsure why she had come, yet unable to step away. A former motherinlaw approached, embraced her, and whispered, Thank you, dear. You carry no malice. James never saw her there.
Months later James phoned again, softspoken, asking to visit. Emily, though wary, invited him, sensing his loneliness. He had aged in his own youthful years, grief etching his face. They sat at a modest table, talking of life.
Why dont you marry again? he asked.
Because I love you, Emily replied simply. I need no other.
James wept, a strange, tender sight. Lets go to the Davises house; I must fetch Edward, then perhaps we can walk if youll let me.
Edward was a shy, gentle boy, his world upended by the loss of his mother at a tender age. Emily kept a careful distance, watching him with quiet curiosity. Their meetings became a gentle rhythm, every weekend, no promises, just shared solitude.
One day Margaret called, announcing that James was considering asking Emily back, though he was still undecided. Its hard for him; a year has passed, and the child suffers, she said.
Emily immediately called James, telling him she would return. No one was dearer to her than him. They moved back together, a difficult adjustment: James remained cold and taciturn, while she learned to love a child not her own.
On her next birthday, little Edward presented her with a drawing of the three of them under a bright sun, the word Mum scrawled above in a childs hand. Emily sobbed, hugging the boy, whispering, Your mother watches you from above, proud of the wonderful child you are. I love you too, my son.
They lived in harmony. James thawed, accepted her love, and returned to his former gentle self. Emily finally felt the happiness she had chased alone for years.
She was not devout, but occasionally she slipped into a church to light a candle for the soul of the woman who had left this world, yet had given her a beloved son and a caring husband.
