In a quaint little seaside town where the scent of saltwater mingles with the cries of seagulls, I, Emily, met my first love back in our school days. His name was Victor, and back then, he was dating my best friend. I didn’t dare dream of him, and he barely glanced my way. Our paths drifted apart, and I forgot about him—until fate brought us together again in the big city, where we both happened to be studying at university.
“Emily, you’re just as lovely as ever,” Victor grinned when we bumped into each other at a café. His words sent my heart racing.
“And you’re just as much of a charmer,” I laughed, feeling that familiar spark between us.
“Remember how you used to fancy me?” he teased, winking.
“Maybe you weren’t so bad yourself,” I admitted, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere.
We talked all evening, reminiscing about school days and laughing like old friends. Victor walked me back to my dorm, and over the next few days, we met a couple more times. Then, just like that, he vanished—as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I finished uni, moved back to my hometown, and settled into a decent job at a local firm. Life was quiet, predictable—until I saw him again.
It was a bright afternoon on the pier. Victor, in a crisp button-down with a guitar slung over his shoulder, was strolling with his mates, clearly celebrating something. His face lit up when he spotted me.
“Emily! Fancy seeing you here!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug so tight I nearly lost my breath.
“Celebrating already?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just living the dream,” he said with a careless shrug.
I left it at that and carried on, but the next evening, Victor turned up outside my flat with a bouquet. He didn’t know my flat number—just waited on the steps until I stepped out. The surprise of it made me laugh.
“Scared me half to death!” I said, taking the flowers.
“What, am I that terrifying?” he joked, feigning offence.
We grabbed some wine, lit a few candles, and had the cosiest evening in. The way Victor looked at me—like I was his whole world—sent warmth rushing through me.
“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he confessed, raising his glass.
“Oh, don’t start,” I waved him off, though his words sent butterflies fluttering.
“Isn’t it fate, bringing us back together?” he pressed.
“Come off it,” I smiled, but deep down, I wondered if he was right.
We talked until the early hours, and I let him stay—not as anything romantic, just so he didn’t have to trek home in the dark. In the morning, I left for work with a note and a spare key on the table. And who do I bump into on my way? His mother, Margaret. I hadn’t seen her since school, and of all people, she had to show up now.
“Hello, Emily,” she nodded. “You haven’t seen my wayward son, have you?”
“Actually, yes,” I admitted, suddenly uneasy.
“Drunk, was he?” she sniffed.
“No, nothing like that,” I muttered, hurrying away.
A year later, Victor and I got married. Before the wedding, Margaret was all sweetness—thanking me for “straightening him out,” helping him land a proper job, steering him away from his wilder days. I really thought we’d be a proper family. But the moment we announced our engagement, she turned into my worst enemy. Overnight, it was like I’d stolen her son.
And Victor? Not the man I thought he was. The first year was a dream—then he let the mask slip. The drinking started, the sharp words, the occasional shove. And Margaret? Always there, stoking the flames.
“If he raises a hand, it’s because he cares—stop whinging,” she’d sneer.
I endured it, swallowing the hurt. Even my own mum urged me to stick it out, and I was too ashamed to tell my friends what my marriage had become. Life became a nightmare—I dreaded going home, but I had nowhere else to go.
Then one day, walking down the street, I heard a familiar voice.
“Emily!” It was Daniel, an old neighbour from years back.
“Hi,” I forced a smile, blinking back tears.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, stepping closer.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Come on, let’s talk,” he said, nodding to his car.
I went with him—anything to delay going home. He grabbed a bottle of wine, some snacks, and we drove to the beach. As I took a sip, it all came pouring out—Victor, his mother, the endless fear. Daniel listened quietly, then gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and pulled me into a hug.
“Being with you feels peaceful,” I sighed.
“I’ve always wanted to be with you, Emily,” he said softly. “But you were either with Victor or married. Never free.”
He kissed me, and I didn’t stop him. In that moment, I realised I deserved better than a life of fear. Daniel drove me home, and we agreed to meet the next day. But as I stepped out of the car, I froze—there on the bench was Margaret, smirking like a cat who’d got the cream.
“Caught you, love!” she hissed, jabbing a finger at me. “Always knew you weren’t good enough for my boy!”
By the time I got inside, she’d already shown Victor the photos she’d snapped. The look in his eyes—anger, betrayal, pain.
“Is this true?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I said, holding his gaze. “Get out. Both of you. This is *my* home.”
I packed his things and left them by the door. They left without another word. The next day, I filed for divorce, feeling lighter than I had in years. Now? I’m happier than ever. Daniel’s by my side—a man who truly loves me. And the mother-in-law who wanted us apart? She gave me my freedom without even knowing it.
