At school, Robbie wasn’t exactly the best-behaved lad, but he aced his exams. Teachers praised his grades but scolded him for his antics. He was handsome, and the girls at school fawned over him—something he took full advantage of, cycling through them without a second thought.
Emily had been in his class since year one. By year seven, she’d realised she was bigger than the other girls, and the cruel nickname “Pudgy” stuck. She’d grown used to the teasing, but as she got older, it stung more—especially when the other girls started whispering about boys at break, giggling over who’d pushed or pulled whose hair.
No one pushed Emily. No boy bothered with her, except to toss that awful name her way. At home, she’d cry into her pillow.
“Mum, why am I so big? Why am I the only one?” she’d sob.
“Love, don’t fret. You’ll grow into yourself—you’re still young,” her mother would soothe, though she knew her daughter *was* larger than the other girls.
Robbie was the worst. By secondary school, he’d paired up with the pretty but cruel Jessica, and the two made Emily their favourite target. Maybe he was showing off. They’d mock her, and she’d just stand there, silent, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Years passed. School ended. Robbie went to uni for engineering, Jessica to college, and Emily to a polytechnic. They never crossed paths again.
Until one evening.
Robbie was walking back from the lake at the edge of the park, tipsy with mates after celebrating a work bonus. Then he spotted her—a woman alone by the water, tossing bread to the ducks. When she looked up, he was lost. Blue eyes, warm and bright, held him. He broke away from his friends and sauntered over, flashing a grin.
“Robbie. And you are…?” He offered his hand. “Fancy a walk? Or shall we skip to the wedding? Here’s my card.”
She hesitated, eyeing him warily, but took it before frowning and turning away.
He jogged after her. “Wait—sorry if I came on strong. Had a few with the lads. Call me? I’d love to make it up to you.”
The next day, Robbie couldn’t stop checking his phone. By afternoon, a message lit up the screen: *Emily.* His heart leapt.
He replied fast, thanking her and asking her out. That evening, he stood with flowers, nervous she wouldn’t show—until she did, smiling. Their date was perfect.
Over months, Robbie fell hard. Emily was kind, clever, loved knitting and tennis. At twenty-eight, he’d had his share of women—even lived with one for two years—but *this* was different. Emily was special.
Yet one thing nagged him: her faith. She went to church twice a month. He didn’t ask why.
“Maybe she’s private,” he mused. “Closed socials, shy about photos… But she’ll open up in time.”
After six months, he asked her to move in.
“Robbie, I can’t,” she said gently. “I’m a believer—not fanatical, but I won’t live with a man unless we’re married. I’m sorry.”
He respected that. It just proved she wasn’t like the others.
Then, after a weekend trip, he blurted, “Marry me, Em. Let’s buy a ring now.”
She tensed. “I told you—faith matters. You’ve never even been to church. And you’ve not met my parents.”
He spotted a chapel spire. “Then let’s go.”
Inside, he marched to the vicar. “I’ll confess. I’ll do whatever—just marry us.”
The vicar sighed. “Marriage requires preparation. But I’ll hear your confession.”
Robbie rattled off a quick list of regrets—conveniently skipping his school days. After, he turned to Emily. “Now will you?”
She walked out.
“Em, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t lie under the steeple,” she whispered. “You really don’t remember me? Emily Sutton. Your classmate.”
His stomach dropped. The memories crashed back—the teasing, *Pudgy*, the guilt. He staggered to a bench.
“Minus six stone,” she said quietly.
He was gutted. “Em, I’m so sorry—”
“You killed me bit by bit,” she cut in. “I loved you then. But here, today… I realised I never *truly* forgave you.” She walked away.
Robbie sat there for hours until the vicar found him. Over tea, he confessed *everything*.
That night, alone in his car, he looked up at the stars. *God, help her forgive me.*
He called her. No answer.
All he had left was hope.
