“I don’t think your mother likes me. Why? I’ve never done anything to upset her,” Emily asked, her voice soft with hurt.
“Oliver, slow down. Eat properly,” Veronica snapped, her tone sharp as she watched her son wolf down his toast.
“Can’t. I’m late,” Oliver mumbled, swallowing the last of his breakfast before bolting from the kitchen.
“You’ll ruin your stomach at this rate,” Veronica muttered, shuffling after him on unsteady feet. “Always rushing off to that Emily. What do you even see in her? Lucy’s gorgeous, lively—and she adores you. You’d make such a striking couple.”
Oliver ignored her, lacing his trainers with one hand while finishing the toast.
“Honestly, like a child.” She sighed. “Emily can wait five minutes. It won’t kill her.”
“Mum, enough.” Oliver straightened, tugging at his T-shirt. “It’s my life. I’ll decide who’s right for me.”
“Decide while you still can. A girl like Lucy won’t stay single forever—” The door slammed before she could finish.
Veronica pursed her lips and hobbled back to the kitchen. She picked at Oliver’s leftover toast, staring blankly at the wall before scrubbing the hob with furious energy—her usual way of coping with frustration.
When the doorbell rang, she assumed Oliver had forgotten something. But instead, Emily stood there, delicate and smiling, her wide grey eyes hopeful—like a child expecting a miracle.
“Mrs. Harrington, hello. Is Oliver…?”
“He left five minutes ago. Missed him?” Veronica forced a thin smile, watching with satisfaction as Emily’s face fell.
“Shame. Could you let him know I stopped by? Mum and I are visiting Gran—she’s been admitted to hospital.”
“Of course, dear. Why not call him yourself?”
“I tried. His phone’s off.”
Veronica always insisted on silence at home, claiming constant calls gave her migraines.
Twenty minutes later, Oliver trudged back inside, and Veronica couldn’t resist. “Back so soon?”
“She never showed. Mum, did Emily come by?”
“Why, was she supposed to?” Veronica feigned innocence. “Don’t fret. She’ll turn up.”
Later, Oliver left for training, and Veronica polished the hob to a shine before heading to Tesco. There, she bumped into Lucy, Oliver’s old schoolmate.
Veronica believed beauty mattered—and Lucy had it, unlike scrawny, wide-eyed Emily. Even better, Lucy’s father was a council executive. With connections like that, Oliver could land a stable career, a nice flat… He couldn’t play sports forever. Veronica wasn’t greedy, but she’d be damned if she left her son’s future to chance.
“Darling Lucy! It’s been too long,” she cooed.
“I’d visit more if Oliver didn’t have a girlfriend,” Lucy pouted.
“Nonsense. Be persistent—ask him to the cinema.”
“I have. He’s always busy.”
Veronica waved a hand. “Emily’s gone for the week. Drop by tonight—we’ll have tea.”
Lucy did. Veronica “went to put the kettle on,” nodding pointedly toward Oliver’s room. Lucy knocked and entered. Oliver lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey. Ran into your mum earlier. Thought I’d stop by. Fancy a film? It’s lovely out.”
“Lucy, I’m wrecked. Maybe another time?” He sat up reluctantly.
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
She perched beside him, chatting about training, matches—everything but Emily. Later, over tea, Veronica hinted Oliver should walk Lucy home—”A pretty girl shouldn’t walk alone after dark.”
***
Emily adored her gran. She’d studied medicine because of her—Gran hated doctors, despite her constant ailments.
“I’ll grow up and take care of you myself,” young Emily had vowed. Now, she was in her fourth year.
The doctors said Gran just needed observation. Relieved, Emily packed to leave.
“Why rush? Oliver can wait,” her mum grumbled.
“Mum, Gran’s fine. Stay with her. When Oliver’s at his tournament, I’ll come back.”
Her mother sighed. “Fine, go.”
*Oliver’s a good lad. But she’s too smitten.* Her mother remembered her own youthful love—how it had crumbled when Emily was eight. *Maybe she’ll have better luck.*
Emily raced to Oliver’s flat without stopping home.
Veronica answered, her frown icy. *Not her again. Just when things were working with Lucy…*
“Oliver’s out. No idea when he’ll be back,” she said briskly, shutting the door. *Persistent little thing.*
Emily tried Oliver’s phone again. Nothing. She waited on the stairwell, watching the courtyard. An old man shot her a disapproving glance.
Just as she was leaving, Oliver appeared—followed by Lucy, who flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. Not a peck—a proper kiss.
Oliver didn’t push her away.
Emily stumbled back, fleeing as their laughter floated up the stairs. Inside, Veronica’s voice chirped, “Dinner’s ready!”
*She never welcomed me like that.*
At home, Emily sobbed. She’d left Gran for this. Tomorrow, she’d go back.
Two weeks later, Oliver returned from his tournament to find Emily avoiding him.
“Emily, what’s wrong?”
“I saw you. With Lucy.”
“When?”
“When I came back early. Didn’t your mum tell you?” She shrugged. “I saw everything. I don’t know why she hates me.”
“Lucy just congratulated me—friendly kiss. I’ve known her forever. I love *you*.”
“Go. Your mum won’t let us be happy.”
At home, Lucy and Veronica giggled over tea.
“You planned this?” Oliver glared. “That kiss—so Emily would see?”
“Ollie, what nonsense!” Veronica gasped.
Lucy smirked. “You didn’t mind. She’s not your wife—yet.”
Emily avoided Oliver after that. His calls went unanswered. Veronica whispered that Lucy was perfect—practical, homely. Between training, exams, and Gran’s health, they drifted.
***
Fifteen years later, Oliver coached at a youth club. An injury had ended his career.
One day, a lanky thirteen-year-old, Daniel, joined.
“Mum said I need male influence,” he explained. “Dad’s some Arctic explorer. Probably left us.”
Oliver grinned. “Honest. Show me what you’ve got.”
Daniel fought wildly, but Oliver saw potential. “Bring your mum next time—need her consent.”
Daniel returned alone with a note. “She’s a doctor—always busy.”
Months later, Oliver held a parents’ evening. Late, a woman hurried in—Emily.
“Nicole. Daniel’s mum,” she introduced herself, avoiding his gaze.
After, Oliver approached. “Long time. How’ve you been?”
“Daniel talks about you nonstop. Never imagined it’d be you.”
“Great kid. Independent.”
Emily blushed. “I spoil him. Thought sports would help.”
“He mentioned the explorer.”
She sighed. “Bad marriage. Divorced when he was a baby. You?”
“Lucy lied about a baby. Mum pressured me. Divorced in six months.”
“Your mum always preferred her.”
“Still angry?”
Emily shook her head. “Once I had Daniel, I understood. She wanted the best for you.”
“Em… I’m sorry. Things got messy.”
“Water under the bridge.” She stood. “I should go.”
“Let me drive you.”
To his surprise, she agreed.
At her door, he asked to meet again.
“Maybe,” she said.
Oliver floated home. Seeing her again, he knew—Lucy was never right. Emily always had been.
They took it slow. Emily avoided Veronica at first, but the older woman welcomed her warmly, even apologising. When she learned about Daniel, she gushed—finally, a grandchild.
They married six months later. Oliver became Daniel’s confidant. When Emily announced her pregnancy, Daniel grinned.
“You’ll be home more! Cheers, Oliver.”
Best compliment he’d ever received.
“Did my best,” he said modestly.
