The ambulance raced through the city, its sirens wailing and lights flashing. Cars pressed against the pavements, clearing the way.
“Dad, please forgive me. Just live, don’t die…” the girl whispered beside the stretcher.
He couldn’t hear her. He saw another girl before him—smiling, her eyes glowing with soft warmth. The light drew him in, irresistible. He felt weightless, as though his body no longer existed.
Something tugged at him, pulling him back. He tried to speak, to say, “Let go,” but no sound came. Then—a jolt to his chest, thrusting him backward. The girl’s face vanished, the light faded, and his body turned to stone. Did stone feel pain?
Sounds seeped through the darkness—sobbing, a voice calling his name, a hand gripping his. He wanted to beg again, to call for the vanished Vicky, but then he fell into nothingness. No darkness. No self. Only emptiness.
***
The day before
“Dad, can I go to the seaside with Olivia and Daisy? Daisy’s relatives have a house there. I only need the train fare and a bit of spending money.” Emily’s voice was pleading.
William had always known when she lied. Sometimes he pretended to believe her—but not today. He set aside his newspaper and studied her. Her ears burned; her fingers fidgeted with her skirt.
“How long would you be gone?” he asked calmly.
“Two weeks,” Emily brightened. “Fresh air, the sea. I’m tired of this smoggy city.”
“With Olivia and Daisy, you say?” William echoed, sarcasm lacing his tone.
Emily’s face flushed. She knew her lie had failed.
“You can’t deceive me. I spoke to Daisy’s father yesterday. They’re going to the Highlands, all three of them.”
Her cheeks burned crimson. Defiance flashed in her eyes.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me go with James, so I lied. His aunt really does live by the sea.”
“Precisely. I won’t allow it,” William said evenly. “First love—I understand. But is that reason enough to travel alone with a boy?”
“I love him,” Emily whispered, her face pale.
“And does he love you? Love and desire aren’t the same. As a man, I know what it means when a boy invites a girl away. It’s not what you think.”
“So, that’s your answer?”
“Yes. In a month, we’ll go to the seaside together.”
Emily bit her lip, lost in thought. William’s heart clenched. She looked so like her mother—same habit when angry or unsure. His daughter had grown up. How could he explain that after so much loss, he couldn’t bear to lose her, too?
“Dad, please. We’d only be alone on the train. We’d stay with his family.” Hope flickered in her eyes.
“No. We’ll visit them—together—in a month.”
“I didn’t think you’d be like this,” Emily burst out. “I could’ve just left a note and gone. I’m an adult. But I wanted to do this properly.”
“You didn’t run away, so my opinion matters. Listen to it.” William picked up his newspaper but didn’t read.
“In time, you’ll see this differently.”
“Let me go. We love each other.”
“You might love him. Does he love you? If he did, he wouldn’t push you to lie.”
“You know everything, don’t you?” Emily snapped, then froze, realizing her words had struck too deep.
“I’ve made those mistakes. Some you pay for a lifetime,” William said quietly.
“Oh, right. Tell me how you sacrificed everything for me. I’m grateful, Dad, but I get to make my own mistakes.”
“No,” William said firmly, lifting the newspaper—the conversation was over.
Emily hissed, turned on her heel, and slammed her bedroom door.
William set the paper aside. How could he read now?
***
How long had it been? It felt like yesterday he’d persuaded Vicky to take a weekend trip to Brighton. Had she lied to her parents or told them the truth? They’d let her go.
They’d returned changed, happy. Then Vicky had left for university in London. He’d stayed behind, enrolled in polytechnic, met Jane. Lost his head, forgot Vicky, forgot his promises—though, no, he’d never told Vicky he loved her. He remembered that much.
Then Vicky returned, pregnant. He’d panicked—not at the news, but at the thought of losing Jane. Vicky had come straight from the station. He’d begged her to end it, rambling about youth, unpreparedness…
She’d wept. “Twelve weeks already.”
“Why wait so long?” he’d shouted. “Twelve weeks is still—”
She’d left. He’d assumed she’d done it because he heard nothing for three years. If she’d had the child, he’d have known. Her parents would’ve come for him.
He’d married Jane, planned their honeymoon at the seaside. Then the doorbell rang. He hadn’t recognized Vicky at first—pale, thin, gripping a little girl’s hand.
“Hello,” she’d forced a smile.
William had frozen.
“Who is it?” Jane’s voice came from behind.
Vicky’s eyes had flickered. Jane had stared at the child.
“An old schoolmate,” William had managed.
Jane had ushered them in. Vicky hadn’t moved past the hallway. William had noticed a large bag. A dread settled—the girl’s things.
“Leaving or arriving?” he’d asked, hating his own false cheer.
“Leaving. I can’t take her. No one else to leave her with. Mum’s… never mind. You’re not a stranger.” She’d kissed the girl, set her down, and left.
“Yours?” Jane had demanded.
“She was supposed to—” William had mumbled.
The girl had wailed, realizing her mother was gone. Jane had raged. Their marriage—barely begun—had cracked.
William had found his name on the birth certificate. Three days alone with the girl had drained him. Then Jane had returned.
She’d tried to love the quiet, clever child—so like Vicky. A year later, William had learned Vicky had died of leukaemia. When Emily turned six, Jane had left. William hadn’t stopped her. He’d seen her struggle.
***
William had gone to Emily’s room, told her everything, though she’d pretended to listen to music.
She’d learned about her mother when Jane left. William had never hidden Vicky’s death.
“I was young, reckless. With Vicky—it was haste. With Jane, real love. Then you came… so unexpected…”
“There’s contraception,” Emily had said, removing her headphones.
“Yes. But at eighteen, you don’t believe mistakes last a lifetime. Some can’t be undone. Think.” He’d left her alone.
The next morning, Emily had spoken first.
“You can’t shield me forever. It’s my life. You never remarried—afraid of failing again. Afraid no one could love me like a mother. Jane couldn’t. But mistakes will happen. I don’t need the seaside for that. Dad, I’m not your property. Mum would’ve understood—”
“But she’s gone. I’m your father. I know—”
“I’m going. You can’t stop me. I love James. We’ll be fine.” Her voice broke. She’d coughed, gasped, stumbled to the window, yanked it open, and leaned out, heaving for air.
For a second, he’d thought she’d jump. A vision flashed—Emily on the pavement, blood pooling—
“Emily!” He’d lunged. Halfway, pain like a iron rod had pierced his chest.
***
Sounds had trickled back—a throbbing hum, voices fading in and out. His body had turned to lead, then stone. Shapes had blurred into focus.
“Dad, can you hear me?”
It had sounded distant, underwater. “Vicky? Am I dead? What about Emily?” Memories had surfaced slowly.
“Dad, I was so scared of losing you…”
His eyelids had fluttered.
“He’s awake! Doctor, he’s awake!” Emily had wept. “Three days… a heart attack, but you’ll recover. Dad, I’m sorry. I won’t leave.”
“And James? Did he go alone?” William had asked the next day, his head clearer.
“He didn’t go without me.”
William had understood—James loved her enough to stay. Shame had washed over him. His fear of mistakes had nearly killed him.
“Invite him over when I’m home,” he’d said.
“Okay, Dad.” Emily had kissed his stubbled cheek. “You’re the best.”
Three weeks later, they’d met. William had studiedWilliam realized, as he watched Emily and James laugh together, that love wasn’t about avoiding mistakes but learning from them—and he finally allowed himself to hope that history wouldn’t repeat itself.
