**No Turning Back**
“Happy birthday, Evie! I want to give you your dream,” Denis said cheerfully, pulling her into a hug as they stepped out of the university building after lectures.
“How can you give someone a dream? Dreams aren’t something you can hold,” she replied, baffled.
“Just trust me,” he said confidently. “Drop off your notes at the dorm, change, and we’ll head out of town.”
They got off the bus at the sign for “Equestrian Club,” and it clicked—he was taking her horseback riding. She’d told him countless times how much she wanted to ride a horse. It had been a childhood fantasy, though she’d only ever seen them at the zoo or in films.
She couldn’t explain her love for horses. Once, at five, she’d asked her dad, “Can we buy a horse?”
He’d laughed. “Where would we keep it? They need space, hay, proper care. We live in a two-bed flat.”
“On the balcony?” she’d suggested innocently.
He’d patiently explained why horses couldn’t live in flats, and though she’d been disappointed, the dream stayed with her.
Now, after her first ride, Evie was radiant. “Thank you, Denis. Dreams really do come true.” He was just as happy—he’d made hers real.
It was spring. Outside the club, she spotted a nearby wood and suggested a walk. The forest was alive with snowdrops peeking through lingering patches of snow.
“Den, look! We used to pick these as kids. Spring’s so magical, isn’t it?”
Young and carefree, they gathered handfuls of flowers. “Happy birthday—and happy spring,” he grinned.
“You’ve given me the perfect gift—horses and snowdrops! It’s like reliving my childhood.”
“I’m glad I surprised you.”
They’d been together over a year when, before graduation, Denis spent his savings—every bit of his student allowance—on an engagement ring. Their love was real; they knew that.
The wedding was lovely—white dress, sharp suit, her best friend Agatha as maid of honour. They’d shared a dorm room, studied together, and remained close even after uni, though they worked different jobs.
Denis climbed the ranks at his firm, becoming a department head with a good salary. Evie worked too, but soon took maternity leave, giving birth to their son, Nicholas.
Years passed. Nicholas started school. Life was peaceful—Denis was devoted, they had a cosy two-bed flat, and Agatha visited often, especially on weekends.
“When are you getting married?” Evie would tease.
“One day,” Agatha always replied mysteriously.
Then, out of nowhere, disaster struck. Denis came home grim-faced, avoiding her eyes. “I’m leaving you, Evie.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, still smiling faintly.
“For someone else. Agatha.”
Evie sank onto a kitchen chair, thoughts reeling. It couldn’t be real—until he walked out with his bag. Nicholas, playing outside, missed the argument. “Dad said he’s going on a long business trip,” he told her later. She nodded silently. Let him believe that.
Ten years passed.
One Saturday, the doorbell rang insistently. Annoyed, Evie yanked it open—then froze. Agatha stood there, foot blocking the door as Evie tried to slam it.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“Won’t you invite me in?”
Evie let her in, though every fibre resisted. Agatha settled at the kitchen table. “Coffee?” Evie asked sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t say no, but I know you won’t make it.”
Studying her, Evie thought, *The years haven’t been kind.*
Agatha met her gaze. “Evie, take Denis back.”
Evie laughed bitterly. “You’re joking.”
“I’m begging you. I’ll even pay you.”
“So you stole him, schemed against me, and now want to return him? Is he ill?”
“No, he’s fine. I just—I never loved him. I wanted to hurt you.”
“*Me?* Why?”
“Because you had everything—looks, brains, a future. I was just your shadow. Denis had money, status. I wanted justice.”
“And now he’s broke?”
“He drinks. Lies on the sofa. We couldn’t have kids. He still works, but…” She faltered. “I’ve fallen in love—*really* in love. I might still have a child. Please, take him back.”
Evie shook her head. “You never think of anyone but yourself. You broke my life, and his. But no, I won’t take him. Nicholas and I are happy alone.”
“You loved him so much—”
“Yes. And you destroyed that love. I’ve forgiven you both, but I don’t want him. Or you.”
Agatha left, defeated.
Evie sat in her favourite spot and cried—not for Denis, but because she’d lied. There was no new man in her life. Just Nicholas. And though anything was possible, she knew one thing for certain: some roads, once walked, can’t be retraced. And she had no desire to try.
