Someone Finally Needs You

“You’re wanted by someone, at least,” he sneered.

“You don’t need my son—he’ll ruin your life.”

“That’s not true, Margaret,” Lena protested, hurt. “Why would you say that about Edward? He’s your only child!”

“That’s exactly why I’m warning you. I know my son too well to doubt my words.”

Margaret slowly left the kitchen, leaving Lena sitting at the table in her new evening dress. She’d put it on just to show her neighbor, hoping to impress Edward when he saw her.

Lena had been in love with Margaret’s son for years. The feelings had taken root when she was just a little girl, naive and impressionable, but clearly capable of deep attachment.

Edward was seven years older. He was seventeen when they met; Lena was only ten. She’d moved with her parents to Ashford from the next village after her father lost his job. Margaret had been raising Edward alone for years.

“Very respectable people,” Lena’s mother had said after visiting Margaret that evening. Though fifteen years older, she and Margaret became friends, and soon Lena and Edward saw each other often.

A year later, Edward left for university, but Lena never forgot him. She visited Margaret regularly, even after he married straight after graduation—a crushing blow. Lena refused to believe he could truly love someone else. In her world, marriage was forever. Her parents had been together twenty years; her grandparents had stayed married till death. Even Margaret had spoken of Edward’s father as if they’d only parted when he disappeared on active duty.

“He didn’t even introduce me to his wife,” Margaret complained bitterly during a visit. “Some city girl, full of herself.”

“Go see them in London, then,” Lena’s mother suggested.

Margaret waved her off. “Why bother? If Edward didn’t invite me to the wedding, that says enough. I won’t go.”

Lena pitied Margaret but grieved more that Edward might never return to Ashford. Then, barely a year later, he came back with his few belongings.

“Margaret’s boy’s home,” her mother mentioned offhand one evening. Lena nearly knocked her over bolting for the door.

She reached Margaret’s house in seconds, colliding with Edward on the porch as he stepped out for a smoke.

“Well, if it isn’t little Lena!” He winked, and she noticed how much he’d changed—grown into a man, beard and all. Silver already streaked his temples, though he was barely twenty-five.

“You’ve come back?” she asked softly, fighting the urge to touch his face.

He shrugged indifferently. “Dunno. Divorced. Had to crawl back to Mum. Lived with the in-laws—she nagged me to death.”

Lena stared, unable to fathom how anyone could find fault with him. He was perfect—handsome, kind, clever! That city girl must have been awful.

“Fancy a film?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Too busy. Mum’s got me running around.”

Disappointed but hiding it, Lena clung to the fact that he was near, breathing the same air, asking about her. Maybe one day he’d realize she was the one for him.

Margaret wasn’t happy about his return. She tried getting him work on the local farm, then in London, but nothing suited him.

“I’m tired of his dissatisfaction,” she confided to Lena. “Now I see why his marriage fell apart. The problem wasn’t her—it was him.”

“That’s not true!” Lena defended hotly. “Edward’s wonderful!”

Margaret smirked. “Oh, of course—I don’t know my own son. He’s as selfish as his father.”

She fell silent, eyes distant. Lena bit back her retort, unsettled by Margaret’s grief.

After months jobless, Edward left again without saying goodbye. Lena wept, remembering him as the best man she’d ever known.

Then tragedy struck—her parents died in a crash. At eighteen, newly orphaned, she’d have collapsed without Margaret’s support.

Edward returned for the funeral with a slim blonde girl gazing adoringly at him. Lena’s heart twisted—he wasn’t alone.

Two weeks later, Margaret mentioned his remarriage. The news shattered Lena. She loved him still, but hope was gone.

Staying in Ashford, Lena took a job on the farm, tending poultry. She never pursued further education, slowly rebuilding a life without parents or Edward.

Then, just before New Year’s, Margaret said Edward was visiting.

“With his wife?” Lena asked, knowing the answer.

“Alone,” Margaret smirked. “Would he come back to this backwater if things were fine?”

Lena’s heart leapt. Finally! She’d confess everything.

“Don’t wait for him like that,” Margaret warned.

Lena, having splurged on a dress, froze. “Why not?”

“You care too much. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Margaret’s bitter tone silenced further questions.

On New Year’s Eve, Edward stumbled in drunk after a fight with his mother. He brought cheap champagne and a foul mood.

“Let’s drink,” he said, ignoring her dress.

That night, he stayed. To Lena, it was magic.

He left two days later without a word. She cried, pestered Margaret for updates, but the older woman only frowned.

“I warned you.”

In February, Lena discovered her pregnancy. She called Edward from the bus to London. He agreed to meet—coldly, impatiently.

“If you think this means I’ll marry you, don’t,” he said. “I’ve met someone else.”

His indifference cut deep. To her, it had been enchanted; to him, a careless fling with consequences.

Back in Ashford, Lena agonized before confiding in Margaret.

“You’re keeping it?” Margaret asked bluntly.

Lena hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s Edward’s child.”

Margaret sighed, gripping her hand. “Listen—I had my son with a married man. Do I regret him? Maybe. I could’ve married a good man but chose differently. I won’t advise you, but know this: it’s easier living with your own mistakes, not someone else’s counsel.”

Lena gaped. “My mistake is loving your son?”

“Maybe,” Margaret shrugged. “Or you’ll regret the abortion. Or regret bringing a child into this mess. Like I did. You’ll spin tales of a hero father lost in action—anything but the truth.”

“Edward’s father is alive?”

Margaret smirked. “Alive and thriving—on his fifth wife. Never wanted me. Edward takes after him.”

Lena left, resolved. She’d have the baby.

Her daughter, Olivia, was born in October. By the next New Year, Margaret was gone, having held her granddaughter once. Edward never visited his dying mother—Lena took care of her instead.

At the funeral, Edward greeted Lena coolly, another woman at his side. She said nothing of Olivia; he asked nothing of her choice.

Six months later, he returned to claim his inheritance—only to learn Margaret had left everything to Lena.

“How?” he raged at the solicitor. “I’m her son!”

“We tried contacting you,” the man said flatly.

Edward stormed to Lena’s house, pounding the door. A stranger answered.

“Who are you?” Edward demanded, spotting Lena behind him.

“It’s fine, William,” she said gently, stepping out. “He’s here for me.”

Edward sneered. “Married now? Finally, someone wanted you.”

The words stung, but Lena stayed quiet.

“Yes, someone does,” she replied. “You came about the inheritance?”

“It’s not right!” he snapped. “You’re nothing. I’m her blood!”

Lena nodded. “Shame you only remembered after she died.”

“I’ll contest it,” he hissed.

She tilted her head, disgusted. “You’re wasting your time. Margaret has a grandchild—your daughter. Will your conscience handle that? Or do you even have one?”

She studied him, wondering what she’d ever loved. His looks? Wit? Kindness? None remained. It had taken her a decade to see—he was petty, hollow, and cruel. Pity, not love, was what he deserved.

At least she’d let go. Better late than never. And what was life without mistakes to learn from?

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Someone Finally Needs You