You know how he looks at you? With love and admiration,” said her daughter, pleased with herself.
James stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. Water droplets glistened on his toned chest. Not just a man—a dream. Emily felt a sweet pang in her heart.
He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to kiss her, but she tilted her head away.
“Don’t, or I’ll never leave. I have to go. Lily’s probably home already,” Emily murmured, nuzzling his shoulder.
He sighed. “Em, how much longer? When are you telling her about us?”
“Three months ago, you didn’t even know I existed, and you were perfectly fine,” she said, standing up and slipping into her clothes.
“It feels like I wasn’t living at all—just waiting for you. I can’t go a day without—”
“Don’t break my heart. Don’t walk me out,” Emily cut in, slipping away before he could protest.
Walking down the street, she avoided the gazes of passersby, convinced they all knew where she’d been. Men glanced curiously; women… with judgement.
Not surprising—she had the figure, the poise, the striking eyes and full lips. Dark waves tumbled loose from her clip. And right now, she wished she could vanish.
***
She’d married young, at twenty, for love—real, burning love. Almost immediately, she’d gotten pregnant. Her husband begged her to consider an abortion—too soon, they needed stability first. But Emily refused and had a healthy baby girl, hoping he’d come around. He never did. Well, some men just weren’t cut out for fatherhood.
Then, one evening, a woman called, giving an address where Emily’s husband spent his nights. She didn’t rush to check. She waited, confronted him directly. First, he denied it. Then he made excuses. Then he shouted:
“Some crazy woman says something, and you believe her? You’re just as bad! I’m leaving—you’ll regret this!”
The door slammed. Emily didn’t want to live, but Lily needed her. So she survived. Two weeks later, she couldn’t take it anymore—she went to that address, stood behind a tree, and waited. Soon, her husband walked past, arm in arm with another woman. They disappeared inside.
The next day, she filed for divorce. Forgiveness wasn’t in her nature. She put Lily in nursery and went back to work.
Men drifted in and out of her life, but none worth risking her heart for—until James. Tall, handsome, her perfect match. Their romance was fierce, intoxicating. One evening, Lily asked where she was going, all dressed up.
“A date,” Emily answered, half-teasing.
“Ohhh,” Lily drawled knowingly. She never asked again.
The girl had her mother’s figure but not her striking looks. People often wondered how such beautiful parents had such an ordinary daughter. But Emily didn’t mind. Beauty brought trouble—better to be unremarkable.
She’d never had close girlfriends. Not her fault—other women resented her, afraid of paling in comparison. Maybe that’s why she’d married so young, searching for friendship in love.
“He’s a bit plain for you, even if he’s handsome,” her mum had said.
***
“Lily, I’m home,” Emily called as she stepped inside.
“Doing homework,” her daughter replied from her room.
Emily changed and headed to the kitchen. Lily soon followed, breaking off a piece of bread.
“Don’t spoil your appetite—dinner’s almost ready,” Emily chided, setting plates down. She hesitated. “I wanted to talk.”
“So talk,” Lily said around a mouthful.
“My birthday’s coming up.”
“I remember, Mum.”
“I… wanted to invite someone. A friend.”
“The one you’re sleeping with?” Lily’s expression didn’t flicker.
“We’re *dating*. And watch your tone.”
“What’s the difference? At your age, it’s the same thing.”
“Can I invite him? You don’t mind?”
“Whatever. Is Gran coming?” Lily shrugged.
Emily exhaled. Fifteen was a tricky age, but Lily seemed unfazed.
“Gran’s visiting Sunday. I want you two to get along.”
“Mum, just invite him.”
***
All Saturday morning, Emily cooked, wanting to impress James. He arrived with roses, a ring. She was stunned—his intensity, his certainty.
Eager to charm Lily, he joked, laughed, filled the room. But Lily remained quiet, serious. After he left, Emily tidied up, then found her daughter in her room. She tried to hug her—Lily dodged.
“You didn’t like him?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” Her disappointment seeped through.
“Just didn’t. You’re young, I get it—love and all that. But Mum… he’s using you. Can’t you see?”
“Did Gran put you up to this?”
“What’s Gran got to do with it? I’ve got eyes,” Lily said desperately.
Emily stood and walked toward the door.
“Mum… do you love him?” Lily whispered. Without turning, Emily nodded. “Fine. See him. Just don’t move him in.”
“Why?” Emily spun around.
“I just don’t want him here,” Lily snapped.
And that was that.
Strangely, Emily felt… relief. Things with James had moved too fast. That ring. And yet, he barely spoke about himself—only their future. Lily mattered only because she mattered to Emily.
Next day, James called, missing her, wanting to meet. He never asked if Lily liked him. Did he not care—or was he that confident?
“Gran’s coming tonight—no time,” Emily lied.
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, relieved.
With Gran, Lily was bubbly, chatty. No mention of James. *Maybe she sees what I’m blinded to,* Emily thought.
***
They kept meeting at his place. One day, he brought up moving in again. When Emily hesitated, he snapped.
“Lily’s selfish, keeping you from happiness. In a few years, she’ll fall in love, and you’ll be alone!”
“Are you breaking up with me?” Emily asked coldly.
“No, I just—I didn’t mean it.”
Their first real fight ended icily.
Two days later, Lily came home late.
“Where were you? Homework?” Emily demanded.
“Done it. I’ve got something to tell you.” Lily followed her to the kitchen.
“Wash your hands. You look smug—what’s up?”
“You won’t like it. Me and Ethan… we found something about your *James*.”
“What?”
“He’s not who he says. He doesn’t live on Oak Lane—he’s on Birch Street. With a wife. Or a woman and a little boy, about four.”
Emily scoffed. “You followed him?”
“We saw them go in. He didn’t leave. He was smoking by the window, no shirt—Mum?” Lily faltered at Emily’s expression.
Emily fled to the bathroom, muffling sobs behind her hands.
Later, she found Lily had eaten, cleared the table, and retreated. Emily didn’t follow. She stepped onto the balcony, staring at city lights, remembering James’s bare flat—no clutter, no photos. The fridge nearly empty. A love nest, nothing more.
*How long would he have lied? I ignored every red flag.* She leaned forward, breath hitching—
“Mum!” Lily yanked her back.
“You scared me,” Emily rasped.
“Sorry, I didn’t think—”
“And I should be *happy*?” She pulled Lily close. “Don’t follow him again.”
***
Next day, Emily marched into James’s flat, yanked open the wardrobe. Two shirts. Empty shelves.
“You rent this place just for us. You’ve got a family,” she stated.
He paled, then lashed out. “I thought you weren’t like other women—paranoid, *spying*—”
“Call me crazy. I’ve heard that before. Are you married?”
Silence. She left the ring on the table.
Walking endlessly, she thought: *Love’s like a rotting limb—cut it off before it kills you.* She’d survived before. She’d survive now.
***
Three weeks later, school ended. Lily’s class was off to Edinburgh for three days.
“Mum,” Lily said suddenly, “what about Peter from downstairs?”
“Who?”
“The bearded guy. He *likes* you.”
Emily recalled the quiet handyman from their building.
“You know how he looks at you?” Lily grinned.
“How?”
“Like you hung the moon.”
Emily laughed. “Sweet, but love’s not built on kindness.”
As Lily left with Ethan, Emily thought. She remembered, years ago, Peter helping her with the pram—coincidentally meeting her often, always in slippers.
NeThe next evening, Peter knocked on her door with his toolbox, freshly shaved and wearing a shy smile, and she realized love had been waiting right under her nose all along.
