**Diary Entry – December 31st**
“Do you regret anything?” Max asked, pulling Emily closer against his chest.
“No. Do you?” She lifted her head to meet his gaze.
“I’m happy. When you walked into our lives—mine and Lily’s—I knew it was fate. Everything that happened before you led us here. After my ex—”
Emily pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t dwell on the past. Everything’s better now.”
—
**A Year Earlier**
Emily draped the dining table with a festive cloth, then brought out plates, forks, and two wine glasses.
“Are you sure staying in was the right call? We could’ve gone to Tom’s—it’d be livelier,” Daniel said as she returned to the kitchen.
“Absolutely. Take these to the table.” She handed him a platter of sliced ham and cheese, along with a salad bowl. “We can see everyone tomorrow. Three years together, and we’ve never rung in the New Year just us. How you start the year sets the tone.”
“So you’re programming us for a year of voluntary isolation?” Daniel leaned against the doorway.
“Would’ve been nice. Pity it’s not realistic.” She sighed.
“Alright, let’s give it a shot.” He surrendered, carrying the food out.
Emily fetched a bottle of champagne from the fridge and another dish. “Well? Looks nice, doesn’t it?” Daniel admired his table setting. “Can we bid farewell to the old year now? I’m starving.”
“Not yet. Give me five minutes. I need to change into my new dress.” She headed to the bedroom.
“Why bother dressing up if it’s just us?” he muttered, snatching a slice of ham.
“Because it’s a celebration!” Her voice floated from the other room.
*Bloody dramatic artist*, Daniel thought, grabbing another slice.
Soon, Emily reappeared in a vibrant blue dress, her curls cascading over her shoulders. Daniel nodded approvingly as she twirled, the skirt flaring around her.
“Now we can sit down,” she said, glancing at the clock.
“Blimey, this spread’s too much for two. Should we call Mark? He’s home with his mum.”
“Call him tomorrow. Open the champagne.” Her eyes sparkled.
*She’s acting odd tonight*, Daniel thought, wrestling with the cork.
“You seem…” He hesitated. “Excited.”
“A bit. You’ll see why.” The news burned inside her, but she’d wait for midnight—it had to be perfect.
They ate, drank, and lounged as some light telly played in the background.
“You barely touched your drink,” Daniel noted.
“Didn’t want to doze off before the countdown.”
He stepped onto the balcony for a smoke. Snowflakes drifted down; laughter and the occasional firework crackled in the distance.
“Dan, come on! The PM’s about to speak,” Emily called.
He flicked his cigarette into the dark and returned inside, half-listening to the telly while refilling his glass.
“You’re still not drinking? How’re you supposed to make a wish?”
“Daniel, there’s something I need to tell you.” She sat straighter. “Pour yourself another?”
Once he did, she continued. “This year… we’re not just two. We’re three. A proper little party.” Her eyes shone.
He stared, uncomprehending.
“Guess who? I’m pregnant. There’s a baby—tiny, but here.”
Daniel drained his glass.
“Aren’t you happy?” Her smile wavered.
“I am, but… we agreed to wait.”
“We’ve been together three years. I’m twenty-eight. I want this.” Her voice trembled. “What’s there to wait for? It’s happening.”
“But you were on the pill—”
“I stopped last month. Usually, it takes time, but… isn’t it brilliant?”
“So that’s why you skipped Tom’s?” Realization dawned.
“Yes. Honestly, I thought you’d propose after this.” Her voice broke. “Guess I was wrong.” Tears spilled. “Go to Tom’s. Have fun.” She fled to the kitchen.
“Em, I didn’t say I wasn’t happy—just surprised!” He chased after her.
She darted onto the balcony, gripping the door. “Don’t be daft—you’ll catch cold!” He yanked it open, nearly knocking her over.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d have talked me out of it! This isn’t a family—it’s just… convenient for you!” She ran to the bathroom, slamming the door.
Fireworks boomed outside.
Daniel returned to the table, gulped her untouched wine, and fumed. *New Year’s ruined. Why’d she do this?* He grabbed his coat and left.
Emily heard the door slam and sobbed into her dress. She cleared the table, changed, and curled up on the sofa. The telly played festive tunes.
Daniel didn’t return that night, nor the next day. Her friend Laura came over, coaxing the story out.
“Men are rubbish with responsibility. He’ll crawl back. Want me to talk to him?”
“No. Just go. I won’t do anything stupid.”
Three days later, Daniel reappeared, full of half-hearted apologies. They barely spoke over the holidays. His phone buzzed constantly.
“Anything to say?” Emily finally asked.
“What d’you want to hear? Fine—I’m leaving. You tricked me.”
“Go on, then.” She turned to the window.
“Thought you’d get over this phase.”
“Wanting a baby is a ‘phase’?”
“I can’t talk to you.”
After he left, she cried for hours. That night, pain ripped through her. The ambulance came, but it was too late.
She returned to work at the music school, hollow-eyed. Lily, her brightest student, had vanished in December. Assuming illness, Emily was stunned when February passed without her. The headteacher revealed Lily’s father had withdrawn her.
“Why? She’s gifted!” Emily insisted. “Give me their address.”
She trudged through icy streets, knocking on a door in Camden. A tall man in his thirties answered.
“I’m Lily’s piano teacher. May we talk?” Her lips were numb.
Lily dashed over, hugging her. Over tea, the man—Max—explained: his wife had left them. Between work and Lily’s school, music fell by the wayside.
“Let me teach her. I’ll pick her up, help with homework too.”
“Why would you?” Max frowned.
Emily hesitated. “I… live alone. My partner left when I told him I was pregnant.”
Lily rejoined the school. Emily adjusted her schedule, fetching her at lunch, feeding her, letting her observe other lessons. Sometimes Max texted he’d be late; Emily brought Lily home, where they played piano or read until he arrived.
One evening, Daniel showed up—she’d forgotten he still had a key.
“Private lessons now?”
“Yes. Here for your things?” Her calm unnerved him.
“No, I wanted…” He eyed Lily. “Can we talk alone?”
“She’s a child. Speak.”
“I want to fix things. I was wrong to leave, but you shouldn’t have—”
The doorbell rang.
Max’s arrival sparked a shouting match.
“Quick replacement, eh? Kid’s his?” Daniel sneered.
“There *is* no baby. Get out!” Emily screamed.
“You *lied* to trap me? Good luck!” The door slammed.
“Bad timing,” Max muttered. “Lily, coat on.”
“No, perfect timing. I almost believed him…” She collapsed onto her bed, weeping.
Spring arrived. Lessons ended; Emily and Lily packed up when Max appeared.
“Dad! Are we taking Miss Emily home?” Lily beamed.
In the car, Max thanked her, then invited her to dinner. “No time to cook,” he admitted.
Two months later, he proposed. “No rush, but why wait? Lily adores you, and I… I’m glad we met.”
Emily stayed quiet.
“Think it over. I know a kid’s baggage.”
She’d already decided. “I don’t need to. Yes.”
They married in August. When Emily discovered she was pregnant just before Christmas, she told Max outright. He grinned. “Always wanted more kids. My ex barely wanted Lily.”
New Year’s Eve, they curled up on the sofa after Lily fell asleep. The tree lights twinkled.
“I’m happy,” Max murmured. “Everything before you led us here.”
Emily closed her eyes. Happiness—such a long, winding road to find it. **End of Entry.**
