**Decide: Either You’re There with Her, or Here with Us**
Emily stopped by the shop near her house after work. She was already at the checkout when she spotted Aunt Rose. Years ago, Aunt Rose had worked with Emily’s mother, and now, whenever they crossed paths, Emily always made time for a chat.
After paying, Emily lingered by the exit, waiting.
“Hello, dear,” Emily greeted as Aunt Rose approached. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hello, love. I’ve been poorly—barely left the house. Come, walk with me. There’s something you ought to know.”
Emily’s stomach twisted. Jack was sixteen—a difficult age—and thirteen-year-old Lily had started taking an interest in boys. Had one of them gotten into trouble? The shopping bag dug into her palm, the handles cutting deep. Maybe she could make an excuse, slip away—but Aunt Rose was already lowering her voice, leaning in.
“Now, don’t think I’m gossiping, but I saw it myself. You’re like family to me, love. Your William—he’s been going into that house across the way. Young woman lives there. Her windows face mine. Every time he visits, she draws the curtains straight after.”
Emily felt as if she’d been doused in ice, then set aflame. Of all people, William—her dependable William—had betrayed her.
“I had to warn you. It’s been weighing on me. You’ve got two children. What if it’s serious? You ought to talk to him before it’s too late.”
“Right. Thank you, Aunt Rose.” Emily hurried away, desperate to escape the pity in the old woman’s eyes, forgetting they lived on the same street, that they usually walked home together.
Breathless from rushing, she fumbled with her keys before stumbling inside. She sank onto the footstool, the shopping bag slipping to the floor, spilling groceries. She barely noticed. The news had numbed her. Lily emerged from her room, gathering the scattered items.
“Take them to the kitchen. I’ll be there shortly,” Emily said sharply, sending her away.
*How could he? If Aunt Rose saw, others might’ve too. The children—what if they find out? And all this time, I noticed nothing.*
“Mum? Are you ill? You look—”
“Go to your room. Let me be.”
Lily hesitated but obeyed.
*At least William isn’t home. Gives me time to collect myself. If I saw him now, I’d scream the house down. Anger never solves anything.*
Emily steadied herself with a glass of water, then mechanically started dinner. Her hands shook, ingredients slipping from her grip.
The key turned in the lock. She stiffened, pretending to focus on the stove.
“Smells lovely,” William said cheerfully.
“Wash up. Dinner’s nearly ready.” Her voice was brittle, like stretched wire.
“Something wrong?” He stepped closer, searching her face.
“I ran into Aunt Rose at the shop.” Emily swallowed hard. “She said she’s been ill. I hadn’t even checked on her.”
“And that’s upset you?”
“No.” She turned to face him. “She said she saw you going into the house opposite.”
William’s expression flickered. “What else did that old busybody tell you?”
But Emily already knew. The way his gaze darted away—it was true.
“Others have seen you too. Did you even think about the children? I can’t—I won’t live like this. Decide: either you’re there with her, or here with us.”
“Em—” He reached for her shoulders.
She jerked back. “Don’t touch me!”
“Mum? Dad? Why are you shouting?” Jack stood in the doorway.
“Wash your hands and call Lily. Dinner’s ready.” Emily forced a smile.
Days passed in taut silence. The tension coiled tighter, unbearable. Emily hoped William would apologise, promise it was over. But he said nothing.
Then, one evening when the children were out—Jack with friends, Lily at a birthday party—William cleared his throat.
“We need to talk.”
“Go on.”
“I’m not making excuses, just explaining. Her parents died in a car crash. Then her grandmother passed. She moved into the flat. I helped with the move. I don’t know what came over me—pity, maybe. I’d have ended it, but… she’s pregnant.”
Emily gasped, gripping the chair.
“I haven’t seen her since that night. But she stopped me outside. Said she’s keeping the baby. What am I supposed to do? Walk away?”
“And us? Your children?” Her voice cracked.
“They’re older. They’ll understand.”
“You’d burden them with your guilt? Get out. Now. Before they come home.”
She seized the TV remote, hurled it against the wall. Plastic fragments scattered. William caught her wrists.
“Calm down. I’ll go. Just—don’t stop me seeing the kids.”
“Leave.” She covered her face. “Just go.”
The door slammed.
When Jack returned, Emily was sweeping up the pieces.
“Don’t cry, Mum. He’ll come back.”
“Did you… know?”
“No. I heard you arguing. He’s gone. We don’t need him.”
“Don’t say that. He’s still your father.”
“He betrayed us. Sort it out yourselves.” Jack stormed off.
Three days later, Emily went to *her* flat. The girl—pretty, younger than she’d imagined—paled at the sight of her.
“You’re his wife.”
“You knew?”
“Yes. He talked about you. The kids. I never meant to—”
“But you didn’t send him away.” Emily’s hands trembled. “You’ll pay for this. For my tears. My children’s tears.”
She fled, coughing on the stairwell.
*Why did I come? Now she’s real. Now she’s part of our lives.*
Winter passed. One night, a knock. No ring—just a soft rap. William stood there, unshaven, eyes bloodshot.
“Didn’t want to wake the kids. Can I come in?”
“What happened?”
He stepped inside, avoiding her gaze. “She’s gone. Collapsed. I called an ambulance—”
“The baby?”
“Born early, but alive. I’m nothing but a curse. Hurt you, left the kids…”
“Tea?”
“Something stronger.”
“You can’t. You’ve a child now.”
“Christ, Em—I can’t take it. I won’t. I’m leaving.”
“Where?”
“The North. Rebuilding work. Maybe I’ll find something there. Here—I’m nobody.”
“Running away? What about your son?”
William bowed his head.
Her heart splintered. She hadn’t forgiven him—but she couldn’t turn him away. She made up the sofa bed, listening to his restless sighs until dawn.
At breakfast, she asked, “Will you stay?”
“No. It’s better this way. I’ll write. Will you answer?”
“Yes.”
Jack refused his goodbye hug. Lily clung to him, weeping.
Time crawled. Snow melted. Letters arrived sporadically—apologies, updates, love for the children.
Jack finished school, enlisted.
“You can’t!” Emily begged. “Don’t leave us!”
But he went.
Soon, Lily would leave too.
Then—clarity. She wrote to William: *I’m bringing your son home. No child of yours will grow up an orphan.*
William replied cautiously, offering to visit.
A year later, Jack returned unharmed. Emily, overjoyed, forgot to mention the toddler now toddling toward them.
The boy laughed as Jack swung him high.
“You knew?”
“Dad wrote. You did right, Mum.”
“You’ve spoken?”
“Months now. He misses you. Forgiveness isn’t weakness.”
She sighed. “I forgave him long ago.”
Lily burst in, tearful hugs all round.
Later, Jack said, “I’m going to Dad.”
“No!”
“It’s decided.”
So she waited again, heart in her throat with every letter, every rare call.
And little Andy, tugging her sleeve, called her *Mum.*
*The hardest roads often lead us home.*
