Hey love, let me fill you in on whats been happening with Emily.
She was waiting for her husband to get home from work, sitting at the kitchen table sipping a mug of thymeinfused tea, taking her time with each sip. The click of a key in the lock snapped her attention, and she rose, pausing in the doorway. In walked James, looking all serious and silent.
Hey, Emily said first, late again, Ive already had dinner and Ive been waiting for you
Hey, James replied. You couldve skipped the wait, Im not hungry. Ill only be here a bit longer, grab my things and be off. He walked straight into the living room, opened the wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase.
Emily stared, baffled, as he started shoving his belongings into the bag.
James, whats going on? she asked.
Im leaving you, he said flatly, not meeting her eyes.
Where to?
To someone else
And probably a young one, even though Im still only forty. Age isnt a thing, Emily retorted, a hint of sarcasm creeping in as the reality sank in. I wont shed a tear, he wont see it anyway. How long have you been seeing her?
Almost a year, James said calmly. Seeing her shock, he added, If you never noticed, it means Ive been hiding it perfectly.
Youre really going or Emily blurted.
Emily, cant you understand? Listen up. Im going to another woman; were expecting a baby with her. Kates going to give me a son. Im giving you a month to move out of my flat. Where you go or how you manage that is on you. Well be living with Kate and the baby while she stays in a rented place.
And with that, James left. The flat felt suddenly huge and empty. The walls seemed to close in, and the silence was deafening. Emily flicked on the TV just to have something talking. After twelve years together, it took her about a week to pull herself together, but she managed.
Her late parents had left her a house in a little Yorkshire village. Living alone out there didnt appeal to her at all.
I cant stay there, she thought. Its off the grid, no amenities, no work, and Im only thirtyfive. Ill sell it and use the money to get a room in a council flat or a hostel. The rest will sort itself out.
She sold the cottage as soon as she got back to the village. Her neighbour, Margaret, was waiting for her.
Sweetheart, good youre here. We were about to drive into town looking for you.
Whats happened? Emily asked.
My relatives from the North want to buy your house. They need a place they can knock down and rebuild. Theyd love to be close to usmy sister and her husband, Margaret explained.
Bless you, Margaret. Thats exactly why I came. Lets just agree on a price. Heres my number
Within ten days the cash was in her handsjust a modest sum for a halfruined placebut enough to snag a small room in a shared council flat. The kitchen was communal, two other flats shared the hallway, and she had the third room to herself, so she called it a council flat.
The neighbours were quiet, respectable folk. Emily barely crossed paths with them; she was at work from dawn till dusk. It was at work she started a fling with a colleague named Mark. Everything seemed to be going fine, at least from Emilys point of view.
A few days before International Womens Day, Mark dropped a bomb.
I need to think a lot about things. Im not sure about my feelings. Lets take a break, he said.
Fine, take a break and why dont you just disappear into the woods? Emily snapped back, angry.
That evening she trudged home, thirtysix and with no time for pauses. She decided to drown her stress in food. She opened the fridge, saw a tiny slice of ham, and couldnt find it anywhere else. She was livid.
Who took my ham? she shouted.
It was me, love. I threw it out two days agowent green and started smelling. I figured you wouldnt want to eat it anyway, no point risking your health, the neighbour, Mrs. Vera Ivanova, said calmly.
You cant just decide what I eat, Emily huffed. Dont you think you have the right to tell me whats hers and whats mine?
She let all her frustration out, not just at Mark and James, but now at the neighbour for stealing her food. It felt like the universe was piling on.
Just then, the other flatmate, Peter Ilyich, a sixtyyearold gentleman with silver hair and glasses, chimed in.
Dont take it to heart, Vera, he said in a kindly tone, not looking up from his newspaper. Emilys angry because someones already upset her. Its not personal.
Who are you to say that? Emily snapped back. No one asked your opinion!
Peter smiled gently. Believe me, I know a thing or two.
Then why are you living in this shabby council flat? Emily pressed, unable to stop herself.
Peter sighed, and Emily decided to apologise to Vera. She walked over, took a deep breath, and said, Im sorry, Vera. I overreacted. Its just been a lot…
Vera smiled, gave her a hug, and said, Its alright, dear. Come have a cuppa with some scones and sweets. And maybe you should apologise to Peter toohes a good bloke, a retired professor who used to teach at the university. He had a lovely flat in the city centre before his wife fell ill with a brain tumour. The doctors said there was nothing they could do, so they went to a clinic in Israel. He borrowed a fortune, got the operation, but sadly she didnt recover. He quit his job, cared for her, and after she passed he sold his flat, paid off the debts and ended up here.
Emily felt tears well up at the story.
Thank you for sharing that, she whispered. Ill apologise tomorrow.
The next day, after work, Emily timidly knocked on Peters door with a small gift in hand. He opened it.
Good evening, Peter, she said, handing him the present. Please accept my apology, for Gods sake. I didnt mean to hurt you yesterday.
Peter listened without interrupting. When she finished, he smiled.
What a pleasant surprise. Ill accept your gift and your apologyon one condition, he said. Tonights my birthday, would you join me for a little celebration?
Oh, happy birthday! The gift is perfect timing, Emily replied, delighted. What can I do to help?
She, Vera, and Peter set the table together. While they were arranging dishes, Emily opened up about herself: how, as a naïve university student, shed fallen for a married man, got pregnant, he took her to the hospital, paid everything, then they split. Shed never been able to have a child after that, which maybe explains why James left.
Just then the doorbell rang. Emily hurried to answer it. A tall, smiling man in his forties stood there.
Hello, Im Roman, Veras son, he introduced himself.
Nice to meet you, Roman. Come on in, Emily said.
The dinner conversation flowed, wishes for Peters health and happiness were exchanged, and laughter filled the room. Roman turned out to be a fascinating talkerformer geologist turned longhaul truck driver, full of stories. He mentioned his mother still lived nearby and, cheekily, seemed to have a crush on Peter, which made everyone laugh.
Outside, the first winter snow was falling, blanketing the town in white. Emily and Roman chatted for hours, the cold never seemed to bite.
A few days later Roman had to leave on a delivery route.
Is that for a long time? Emily asked.
Just a week. Ill be back. Will you be waiting? he replied.
Of course, Ill be counting the days, she said.
And so their romance sparked, grew into something deep, and they eventually married. Emily moved in with Roman, and a year later they welcomed a little boy named Arthur. When Romans routes took him away for longer stretches, Emily and Arthur would return to the council flat for a while.
Days passed quickly with visits and waiting, but Vera and Peter were always there, doting on little Arthur. Honestly, you couldnt ask for better grandparents.
Thats the whole whirlwind, love. Cant wait to catch up soon!
