**The Call of the Heart**
“Next!” the nurse called out as another patient left Dr. Emma Carter’s office.
“Hello,” greeted Oliver, offering a polite smile as he walked to the desk and took a seat.
“Good afternoon,” replied Emma. She was young, and it still felt odd to be addressed so formally—only the nurse insisted.
When she looked up, her eyes met a familiar pair of hazel ones. Her heart skipped, but she steadied herself.
“Oliver?” It was him—her old schoolmate. They’d been close back then.
After school, Emma had left their small market town for London to study medicine, while Oliver had stayed behind. His father had been ill, and without the grades for a scholarship, uni was out of reach. His mum had passed six years earlier—just him and his dad now.
The man sitting across from her was broader, more handsome. Emma doubted he was truly unwell, but she asked anyway: “What brings you in today?”
“Palpitations,” he said with a grin. “Especially when I see you.”
“Oh, I’ll just… go then,” the nurse muttered, shooting Oliver a knowing look. It was the last appointment of the day anyway, so she left.
“Emma, I came because you’ve been avoiding me,” Oliver said. “I leave for a haul in two days—two weeks on the road. I needed to talk. I know what you’ll say—married, kids…”
Back in school, they’d been inseparable. Walks home, evenings at the cinema—everyone assumed they’d marry. Then life happened. There’s always *that* girl, isn’t there? For Oliver, it was Lily from the year above. She’d trailed him between classes, waited after school. He’d ignored her antics—he only had eyes for Emma.
*”Ollie, you’ll be mine. You know that old song? ‘You’ll fall, you’ll stay, no running away—you’ll be mine someday,’”* Lily would sing, laughing.
Emma left for uni. Oliver stayed, took a job, and got his HGV licence—aiming to be a lorry driver. Then came National Service. They barely saw each other; Emma rarely visited.
After he returned, Lily latched onto him. She worked at a grocer’s, quick-witted and fond of a drink. One night, his mate James threw a birthday do at a pub. Lily slid beside Oliver. Each time he stepped out for a smoke, she topped his lager with vodka. By last orders, he was drunker than he’d ever been.
“Blimey, you’re gone,” James said, eyeing him. “Let’s get you a cab.”
Lily cut in: “I’ll take him home—already called one.” She flashed her phone.
James helped Oliver into the cab. Next thing he knew, he woke up in Lily’s bed, her mum barging in after night shift. *”Well, this is a sight! Lisa, you’ve got company!”*
Lily giggled. *”Mum’s back early! Must’ve been quite the night, eh? Ollie, you’ll have to marry me now—mum’s seen us.”*
His head pounded. This wasn’t right. He still loved Emma. But Lily pressed—*pregnant* soon after. He married her.
When Emma heard, she accepted a proposal from her classmate Daniel, who’d pursued her for years. She didn’t love him, but what choice was there? Their marriage was hollow—he was always working, dismissive of children. *”We need to save,”* he’d say, though his dad bankrolled their flat.
Six years in, Daniel’s mistress—pregnant—rang Emma’s bell. *”He’s leaving you for me.”* Emma gave him the divorce the next day.
She moved back home, working at the local clinic. Oliver’s life was misery: two sons, a wife who drank while he drove, leaving the boys with her enabling mum.
*”She’s out with her mates when you’re gone,”* his dad warned. *”Embarrassing you.”*
Lily boasted: *”Ollie won’t leave—not with two kids.”*
But Oliver had had enough. At the café, he told Emma: *”I’m ending it. This isn’t a life. And stay away from that councillor, Greg Layton—he’s bad news.”*
Emma bristled. *”You’re married. I’ll see who I like.”*
*”Just wait for me,”* he pleaded.
Days later, during her shift, child services arrived. *”The neighbours heard crying—kids left alone.”*
The address? Oliver’s.
The flat was a mess. Lily had vanished. Two-year-old Alfie lay in rags, his brother Jack eating stale bread.
*”We’re taking them,”* the social worker said.
*”No,”* Emma insisted. *”They’ll stay with me till Oliver’s back.”*
Her parents blinked but said nothing as she bathed and fed the boys. *”This is the right thing.”*
Oliver returned to find his sons safe—and Emma waiting.
Now, in their cottage, they raise three children—Alfie, Jack, and their own little girl. Finally, home.
