“Max, you took the wrong turn. You should’ve gone further,” exclaimed Daisy.
“I turned where I meant to,” Max replied calmly, steering deeper into the woods along the narrow dirt track.
“There should’ve been a clearing right here. But there’s nothing,” Daisy muttered, scanning the trees. “Let’s turn back and drive a bit farther. Max, are you listening? Stop the car!”
He kept driving, unwilling to brake. Daisy could tell he’d realized his mistake—the road was growing narrower, grass sprouting between the worn tire tracks. The route to the holiday cottages should’ve been well-traveled, broad. Instead, they were plunging deeper into nowhere.
“Stop!” she snapped, irritation flaring. “Are you deaf?”
“And pull over where? There’s no space to turn around. I’ll find a gap in the trees—”
“You should’ve reversed ages ago. You never listen. Stubborn as a mule.” Daisy folded her arms and glared ahead. *He’ll never admit he’s wrong. What’s so hard about it?*
Branches scraped the car’s sides, yellowing leaves fluttering onto the bonnet. Finally, Max stopped. A heavy silence settled between them.
“Couldn’t you have stopped sooner? Because of you, we’re lost in the middle of nowhere. Thank God it’s not a swamp.”
“How many times must I say it? Don’t nag while I’m driving,” Max shot back.
Daisy scowled. Max turned the key, reversing cautiously. She held her breath, eyeing the side mirror, praying they wouldn’t clip a tree. It took forever, inches at a time. Twice, the wheels nearly stuck. At last, they reached the main road again.
“Was that so hard?” Daisy grumbled, though her anger had ebbed once they escaped the woods.
“And you always have to be right, don’t you? You don’t even notice how you order me around. Think I enjoy it?” His voice bristled now.
“What’s gotten into you, Max? So you kept driving just to spite me? And feel better now? Except you’re still wrong. Why are we stopped? Are we moving or not? We’ve wasted enough time already.” Her head throbbed from the tension.
Lately, their arguments had multiplied—petty, needling things. Was it growing pains or fading affection? The rose-tinted glasses had shattered, leaving them raw and unvarnished. But life was made of little things. Ignoring them was impossible.
“You’re doing it again. Bossing me about. Don’t even realize,” Max accused.
“I’m not! Fine then, we’ll stay here. I don’t want to go anywhere now.” Daisy sank back, shutting her eyes, arms crossed like a barricade.
It hadn’t always been like this. They’d met by chance at Brighton beach. Her mate had gone to change, and the sun scorched Daisy’s fair skin. Nearby, only a tanned, athletic bloke lounged. She’d approached, sunscreen in hand.
“Could you help? My back—I’ll burn otherwise.”
He’d flashed a grin, taken the tube. His warm palm glided over her spine, sparking gooseflesh. Later, she confessed—that was the moment she’d fallen for him.
She’d melted like ice cream in the sun, mortified her body betrayed her so plainly. “Thanks, I’ll manage the rest,” she’d said, reclaiming the cream and retreating.
When her friend returned, they’d swum. He followed. Introductions led to a stroll. Max walked her home and kissed her. After that, they were inseparable. His recklessness charmed her—Daisy, ever the bookish sort, craved that wildness.
A month later, defying her parents’ uproar, she moved in. Naïve, she’d thought passion and joy would last forever. If someone had warned her they’d bicker within a year, she’d have laughed.
But… No one was perfect. Love without clashes didn’t exist. The rosy haze faded, flaws emerged. Now this trip.
Daisy hadn’t wanted to go. Max’s mates made her uneasy. She’d only been to the cottage once—last New Year’s—and remembered the clearing just off the motorway.
Max drummed the wheel, jaw tight.
“Stop that,” she murmured.
She felt his stare but kept her eyes shut. The engine rumbled; he merged onto the motorway.
“Well, navigate then, Miss Know-It-All,” he muttered minutes later.
Daisy blinked, scanning the blur of trees. “I think… we missed it,” she admitted weakly.
“Don’t say this is my fault too. You could’ve paid attention.” His tone bit. “Now what?”
“Pull over here.”
This time, he obeyed. A car honked, speeding past.
“Let’s not go,” Daisy said suddenly.
“Why not?” Max frowned.
“This whole day’s wrong. I hate it.”
“Bloody women. ‘I feel, I don’t feel.’ We’re nearly there, and now you want to bail? Don’t be daft—Daisy?!” She flung the door open. “Where’re you going?”
“I’m not coming. I won’t fight anymore. Your mates are waiting—go.” Sarcasm edged her words as she slammed the door.
“Dash, stop. Get in. You should’ve said earlier.”
“I did,” she called, stepping onto the verge.
Max followed, gripping her elbow. “It’s not safe here. Get back in.”
“They’re expecting you. Buses run this route.” She twisted free.
“Last chance,” he warned, fury simmering.
Daisy stared at the tarmac.
“Fine.” He spun back to the car.
The door slammed. The engine roared. Surely he wouldn’t leave her—
But the car peeled away, exhaust stinging her eyes. She watched, heart hammering, waiting for brake lights. *He’ll stop. Any second.*
He didn’t.
Daisy darted across the road, thumb out. Rain drizzled.
Tires screeched. “Max!” She whirled—but a stranger’s car idled there. A foreign bloke grinned through the window.
“Need a lift, love? You’ll catch cold.”
She scanned the road. *Fine then.* Resentful, she reached for the door—then spotted another man in the backseat.
“Sorry, my husband’s coming.” She backed away, hurrying off. The car trailed her, offers shouted through glass, before speeding off.
Relief. Then misery. Rain soaked her jacket, dripped down her neck. She kept turning, hoping for Max’s car. How could he abandon her? She’d called him a mule—knowing he was sensitive—and now…
Her phone. Gone. Left at home.
“Just my luck!” she wailed.
Max would be ringing, furious at her silence. He didn’t know she had no phone.
“Max, please come back,” she begged, shivering. “It’s raining. I’m freezing…”
Another car honked. Not Max. A van, curtains drawn.
“Need a ride, love?” a middle-aged man asked.
She shook her head. He drove off.
Tears mixed with rain. Hands numb, she trudged on.
Then salvation—a woman’s voice. A luxury car. “You’re soaked. Get in.”
Too exhausted to refuse, Daisy slumped inside, spared a glance at the empty backseat.
“Someone hurt you?” the woman deduced.
Daisy trembled, mute. Tears streaked her rain-slicked cheeks.
“You’ll warm up.” The woman flicked the heater on. Blissful warmth flooded Daisy’s limbs.
“Tissues in the glovebox.”
She dabbed her face.
“How’d you end up here?” The woman—fortyish, kind eyes—studied her.
“Fought with my boyfriend. We were heading to his mates’ cottage.”
“He left you? Alone?” Disapproval laced her tone.
Daisy’s sob answered.
“The bastard. No excuse for that. You could’ve been hurt.” She noticed Daisy’s hand resting on her stomach. “Oh. He didn’t know?”
Daisy shook her head. “I was going to tell him there.”
“Sweetheart, ignorance doesn’t pardon him. What did you do to ‘deserve’ this?”
“Called him a mule.”
The woman snorted. “A *mule*? That’s it?” Her laughter was infectious. Daisy managed a weak chuckle before crying again.
“My ex was a swine too. Late love—like a hurricane. First marriage, no kids. Thought it’d never happen. Then, at forty-one, I fell hard. Didn’t bother with protection. When I got pregnant, I panicked, thought it was cancer. Doctors warned me off—‘too old, too risky.’ But I kept my boy. Slade’s four now. Doesn’t walkThough life would test them time and again, their love, weathered by storms and softened by forgiveness, proved strong enough to last a lifetime.
