**A Choice Made for Me**
“Kate, don’t you think we’ve lied to each other long enough?” Simon stepped so close she could feel his breath on her skin.
“Simon, you know he’s my husband!” Catherine snapped, her voice trembling. She’d repeated those words all evening, each time with less conviction.
“What does that matter? We have a right to be happy! Tell me the truth—Lenny is my son, isn’t he?” His hands gripped her shoulders. She bowed her head and wept, past the point of hiding her tears.
…Catherine and Oliver had grown up in the same building, their families neighbours since birth. Their flats were just a landing apart. The two households weren’t close, but they maintained a friendly civility.
A deeper bond was unlikely. Catherine’s parents worked at the Philharmonic—cultured, lively people who often hosted gatherings. Young Kate attended music school, already determined to follow in their footsteps.
Oliver’s family was the opposite. His mother worked the till at the local supermarket, his father was a mechanic. Still, the children were inseparable—playing together in nursery, then sharing a desk in primary school.
Kate’s parents never discouraged her friendship with the boy next door, but they’d never considered him a future son-in-law. Oliver’s parents, however, saw their son’s bond with the talented girl as promising, often joking that they were “betrothed.”
…Then came Year Seven. On the first day back, their form tutor entered with a handsome new student.
“Everyone, this is Simon. He’ll be joining our class.” She gestured to an empty seat.
Simon immediately caught every girl’s eye—well-dressed, with a confident smile and striking blue eyes. Kate noticed him too but hesitated to introduce herself.
Weeks later, at music school, she was lost in thought when the door swung open, startling her. Simon stood there, grinning.
“Oh—hello!” she stammered.
“Hello,” he replied, flashing that same easy smile.
“You go here too?”
“Just finished my lesson. You?”
“Solfege next,” she sighed.
Before he could reply, her friend Lucy shoved past. “Kate, move it! We’ve got three minutes before Old Mrs. Wilkins flays us alive!”
In class, Kate couldn’t focus. Simon filled her thoughts.
“Miss Fairchild, I expect better attention,” the teacher scolded.
Afterwards, Simon waited for her. They walked home together, talking about music, his family’s move from Manchester, his own dreams of a career in performance.
…Weekends blurred into daydreams of him. What she didn’t realise then was that love had crept in. Now, instead of walking home with just Oliver, there were three. Oliver despised Simon on sight but never dared send him away.
…Two years passed. By Year Nine, Kate and Simon knew they were in love—but Oliver stood between them.
“Kate, come to the disco tonight,” Oliver pressed.
“Not this time. Simon and I have tickets to the Philharmonic.”
“Why him? Why not me?”
“You’d hate it. Next weekend, we’ll all go to the disco, yeah?”
Oliver scowled but agreed.
After GCSEs, Oliver left for trade school. Kate and Simon stayed for Sixth Form—blissful months sharing a desk, walking home hand in hand. After a concert, they kissed for the first time, swearing they’d marry after graduation, attend the same conservatoire, never part.
But reality intervened.
“Marry Simon? Have you lost your mind?” her mother shrieked.
“You’re too young! Focus on your studies,” her father insisted.
Simon’s parents were no better. “A wedding at eighteen? Madness! You’ll study where your grandmother taught—end of discussion.”
They forced him to move to Edinburgh. At first, letters kept them connected, but distance and time frayed the thread. When his family sold their flat, even that faded.
Kate stayed, enrolling locally. Years later, at a competition in Glasgow, they reunited—older, wiser, but the spark still there. One reckless night together, and she whispered, “I’ll come to you after graduation. No one can stop us now.”
His face fell. “Kate… I can’t. I’m engaged. Her name’s Toni. She’s pregnant.”
Devastated, Kate returned home numb. When Oliver invited her out, she agreed mechanically.
A month later, she discovered she was carrying Simon’s child. Abortion was unthinkable, but tracking him down felt impossible—what good would it do? He had a wedding, a baby on the way.
Then Oliver proposed. “Kate, let’s stop mucking about. Marry me?”
“Alright,” she said, so swiftly he blinked.
They wed. In time, Lenny was born.
…Fifteen years passed. Kate never sought Simon out, but she never forgot him. Then he reappeared, confessing he’d been miserable all these years, now divorcing, ready to fight for her.
Their stolen moments reignited a fire Kate thought long dead. Torn between duty and desire, she wavered when Simon urged, “Run away with me. Take our son!”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ll be back in three days. Be ready.”
But fate decided for her. Simon never returned—killed in a car crash.
“Kate, you’ve been off. What’s wrong?” Oliver asked.
“Remember how you wanted a girl? Maybe it’s time.”
His voice cracked. “Yeah. Let’s.”
Conception took three years. When little Alice arrived, Kate cherished her family, at peace—or perhaps resigned. She’d tell her daughter about Simon one day. But for now, she’d made her choice.
A choice made for her.
