They sat on the riverbank, watching ducks snatch bits of bread tossed by children mid-air. Exams were over, two months of freedom stretched ahead—no lectures, no dull seminars, no exhausting tests.
“What are your plans?” the boy asked, eyes fixed on the shimmering trail of sunlight on the water.
“Sleep. Read. Walk,” the girl replied smoothly, as if reciting a well-rehearsed line. “And you? Going home?” Her voice faltered, a sudden shadow crossing her face as she glanced at him.
“Nah. You know, I’ve always dreamed of the sea. Can you believe I’ve never been? All my mates came back tanned, showing off shells, talking about dolphins and jellyfish… But my parents never had the money. And after Mum died, the sea was the last thing on anyone’s mind.”
“We went to Cornwall every summer when Dad was still with us,” she murmured, gazing into the distance as if she could see those golden days reflected there. “But wait—do you even have the money now?”
“No. But I could borrow some.”
“From who? Half our lot are already home, the other half are drinking away what’s left of their grants. And you’d have to pay it back somehow.” Emily gave him a reproachful look, studying the sharp line of his profile.
“Not much, just enough for food and train tickets. It’s warm down there. ‘And under every bush, a ready feast and bed,’” he quoted from an old fable. “We can find a cheap place to stay. I’ll earn the money back—just need time.”
“How do you know? In peak season, even a mattress under a tree costs as much as a hotel. And how does that fable end, remember?” she chided.
“God, you’re such a bore. What if I find the money? Would you come?” Liam turned to her, catching her hesitant gaze.
“Doubt it. Mum would never let me,” Emily admitted.
Just then, one of the ducks spread its wings, scattering the others. The pair turned to watch. The bird snatched several pieces of bread mid-flight before paddling away, triumphant.
“Hold on.” Liam fished his phone from his back pocket and dialed. “Tom? Yeah, passed… Doesn’t matter, point is I passed. Listen, lend us thirty quid? No? How much have you got? That’s it? Fine, whatever. You home tonight? I’ll swing by.” He shoved the phone back. “Sorted. Still coming?”
“Are you serious? All the trains are booked till autumn,” Emily said skeptically.
“We’ll hitch rides, take detours. Or just admit you’re scared,” he smirked.
“I’m not scared,” she shot back. “It’s just… Mum won’t allow it.”
“Have you lost your mind? Running off with a boy? To the coast? You know what people will think?” Her mother’s voice was sharp, her head shaking firmly. “No, absolutely not.”
“Mum, I’m an adult. Don’t make me sneak out.” Emily’s voice wavered, tears threatening.
“What are you saying? Run away from your own mother? For who?”
“I love him,” Emily whispered, the words heavy and hopeless.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got your whole life ahead. Why rush? Finish uni, marry him, then go wherever you like.” Her mother sighed, exhausted by the argument.
Emily stifled a sob.
“So there’s no talking you out of it? Fine. I won’t let us part as enemies. Go—but promise you’ll call if anything goes wrong.”
“I promise, Mum.” Emily hugged her tightly, then pulled back, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “I’ll start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
“So soon? I thought at least you’d introduce us first—”
“He’ll come by for me. You’ll see him. He’s… he’s good.” Emily hurried to her room, leaving her mother standing there, torn between fear and resignation. The clatter of dishes in the sink echoed her unease.
The next morning, a sharp knock startled her. Emily was in the bathroom. The door opened to reveal a lanky boy with a backpack, grinning.
“Hello. I’m Liam.”
Her mother blinked, bleary from a sleepless night.
“I’ll be right there!” Emily called, toothbrush in hand.
Liam stepped inside. “Don’t worry, we’ll be careful,” he said, just as Emily dragged him off to her room. Minutes later, they emerged, her bag slung over his shoulder.
“Time to go. I’ll call you.” Emily kissed her stunned mother’s cheek.
“Breakfast?” her mother managed.
“Could we take some sandwiches?” Liam asked, polite as ever.
Her mother rushed to the kitchen, returning with a bag of food. As the door closed behind them, she sighed. It was impossible not to like him.
“Where to?” Emily asked outside. “Mum liked you.”
“Good. To the station.”
Two days of hitchhiking, sweltering on roadside benches, but when they finally saw the sea, exhaustion vanished. They sprinted to the water, kicking off shoes, scattering sand and laughter.
Days were spent swimming, lounging, wandering. Nights were for dreaming, sprawled on the cool sand under a sky dense with stars. Their tiny, stifling rented room felt worlds away.
By the second week, joy frayed. They grew tired of the sun, the crowds, each other. Twenty-four hours together was too much. Arguments flared.
But at the station, all was forgiven. Liam was heading further north, to his father’s. Emily clung to him, sobbing.
“Em, time’ll fly. I’ll call every day.”
She kept repeating she couldn’t live without him.
“Listen. I can’t move in with you and leech off your mum. We’ve got no money for a place. Just hang on, yeah?”
At home, Emily dumped her bag, wandering the flat like a stranger. She stuffed laundry into the machine, soaked in the bath, drank tea wrapped in a towel. Life felt normal again.
“Emily! Look at you—so brown!” Her mother studied her face, hunting for shadows of disaster. “You’ve… changed.”
“Just tired. It was good, Mum.”
That night, her mother lay awake. Her daughter was home, safe—but her eyes held sadness. “Missing Liam,” she decided. “At least she’s back.”
Liam called, but his words were clipped. He was working—debts to pay.
He returned late, thinner, missing the first week of term.
“Finally! I thought you weren’t coming.” Emily lunged at him after lectures.
“Had to finish the month. Brought you something.” From his bag, he produced a velvet box.
Emily’s breath caught. Inside lay not a ring, but small blue stud earrings.
“You don’t like them?”
“No, it’s just… unexpected.” She kissed his chin. “I’ve got something too. Not as nice. I’m pregnant.”
Liam stared. “Weren’t you on the pill?”
She flinched. “Yes. I don’t know how—”
“Em, we can’t do this now. I won’t drop out—I promised my mum. Let’s wait.”
Her head dropped.
“Think. We’re students. No money, no place. I could work nights, but I’d burn out. You’d be exhausted. Your mum can’t babysit. We’d hate each other by finals. Three more years, Em…”
She hadn’t wanted a child either. But she’d hoped for joy in his eyes.
Looking up, dry-eyed, she forced a smile. “You’re right. It’s fine.”
She told her mother that evening, craving comfort she hadn’t gotten from Liam. They wept together. Her mother promised to fix it—quick, painless.
After, something between them soured. Emily still loved him, but avoided being alone with him. Liam grew frustrated.
“We agreed to wait. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yeah, but I miss you. Feels like you’re avoiding me.”
She had no answer.
***
Dr. Emily Carter finished her rounds and sat in the office, scribbling discharge notes.
“Dr. Carter, the father of that motorbike crash victim is here. Asking for you.” The nurse hovered in the doorway.
“Right.” Emily set down her pen.
Two nights ago, a boy had been admitted—multiple fractures, hit by a lorry. A student, spoiled with a flashy bike. She’d never let her own son ride one.
She entered the ward. A man sat by the bed, back to her.
“Hello, I’m the attending physician, Dr. Car—” Her voice died as he turned.
Older, greyer, but unmistakable.
“Emily?” Liam stood.
“Your son?” She nodded at the boy. Of course—same sharp jawline. She’d missed it.
“How is heShe turned away before he could see the tears, knowing some journeys were never meant to have happy endings, only the quiet ache of what might have been.
