“Max, you took the wrong turn. We should’ve kept going,” Emily exclaimed, her voice sharp with frustration.
“I turned the right way,” Max replied calmly, guiding the car deeper down the narrow country lane lined with dense trees.
“There was supposed to be a clearing right after the turn. It’s not here,” Emily said, scanning the woods. “Let’s just go back and drive a little further. Max, are you even listening? Stop the car!”
But he kept driving, stubbornly refusing to admit he was lost. The road grew narrower, patches of grass sprouting between the tire tracks. The route to the holiday village should’ve been well-travelled, not this overgrown path winding deeper into the woods.
“Stop!” Emily snapped, anger flaring. “Can you hear me?”
“Where exactly am I supposed to stop? There’s no room to turn around here. I’ll find a spot,” Max muttered.
“Because you should’ve reversed ages ago. You never listen. Stubborn as a mule,” Emily huffed, crossing her arms. *Why can’t he just admit he’s wrong?*
Branches scraped against the car’s paint, and yellowed leaves scattered over the bonnet. Finally, Max stopped. The silence in the car thickened like fog.
“Couldn’t you have stopped sooner? We’re in the middle of nowhere because of you—thank God it’s not a swamp.”
“I’ve told you before—don’t nag while I’m driving,” Max shot back.
Emily scowled. Max turned the key, reversed slowly, and she held her breath, watching the side mirror, terrified they’d hit a tree. It took forever to inch their way back. Twice, the wheels almost stuck. At last, they reached the main road.
“Was that so hard?” Emily muttered, though her anger had eased the moment they left the woods behind.
“And you always have to be right, don’t you? You never notice how you’re always correcting me, ordering me around. Think I enjoy that?” Max’s voice dripped with irritation now.
“What’s gotten into you, Max? So you kept driving out of spite? Feel better now? Except you were wrong, and now we’re sitting here doing nothing. Are we going or not? We’ve wasted so much time already.” Her head throbbed—anger, frustration, all of it simmering.
Lately, they’d been snapping at each other constantly. Was it just adjustment or the slow death of what they once had? The rose-tinted glasses had shattered, leaving only sharp edges and petty grievances. Life was made of little things, and little things could drown you if you let them.
“You’re doing it again—bossing me around. You don’t even realize it,” Max accused.
“I’m not! Fine. Let’s just stay here then. I don’t even want to go anymore.” Emily slumped in her seat, tilting her head back, eyes closed—done arguing.
It had all started so perfectly. They’d met by chance on a beach in Cornwall. Her friend had gone to change, and under the harsh sun, her fair skin burning, she’d spotted Max—tanned, athletic, smiling. She’d handed him her sunscreen.
“Could you help? I’ll burn to a crisp otherwise.”
His grin was disarming. She turned, and the warmth of his hands on her back sent shivers down her spine. She told him later that was the moment she fell for him.
She’d melted under his touch, flustered by how her body betrayed her feelings. “Thanks, I’ve got it,” she’d said hastily, taking the sunscreen back before retreating to her towel.
Her friend returned, and they’d gone swimming. Max followed. He’d liked her friend too, but seeing the spark between Emily and him, her friend stepped aside.
They’d walked together that evening. Max kissed her at her doorstep, and from then on, they were inseparable. His impulsiveness balanced her steadiness. A month later, defying her parents’ protests, she moved in with him. The thrill of independence, the joy of waking up beside him—she thought it would last forever. If someone had told her they’d be like this a year later, she’d have laughed.
But nobody was perfect, and love wasn’t love without fights. Now, here they were.
She hadn’t even wanted to come today. She never fit in with Max’s mates. The holiday home? She’d only been once—New Year’s Eve. She remembered the clearing right after the turn.
Max drummed his fingers on the wheel, nerves thrumming.
“Stop that,” Emily said.
His sharp gaze burned into her, but she didn’t open her eyes. The engine roared to life, and he pulled onto the road when there was a gap.
“Well, navigator, where’s this turn?” he asked minutes later.
She looked around. “We… might’ve missed it.”
“Don’t say this is my fault too. You could’ve been paying attention,” Max said bitterly. “Now what?”
“Pull over.”
This time, he did. A car sped past, horn blaring.
“Let’s just go home,” Emily said suddenly.
“Why?” Max frowned.
“Everything’s gone wrong. I don’t like this.”
“Always with the drama. ‘I feel this, I sense that.’ We’re nearly there, and now you want to bail? Don’t be daft, Em—” He broke off as she shoved the door open. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not going. I won’t let us ruin everything today. You go—your friends are waiting,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
“Em, stop. Get back in the car. You should’ve said you didn’t want to come,” Max called after her.
“I *did*.”
Max got out, grabbed her arm. “You can’t walk alone on the motorway—it’s dangerous.”
“Your mates are waiting. Go. There are buses.” She yanked free.
“Last chance. Get in the car,” Max growled.
Emily stared at the road, silent.
“Fine.” He turned, climbed back in, and roared off.
She watched, stunned. *He’ll stop. He’ll come back.* But the car disappeared. Five minutes. Ten. Nothing.
She crossed the road, thumb out. Rain drizzled.
Brakes screeched. *Max!* But it wasn’t him—a stranger leaned out. “Need a lift, love? You’ll catch your death.”
Emily hesitated. Then she spotted another man in the back seat. “Sorry, I’m waiting for my husband.” She backed away, heart pounding. They called after her but drove off.
The rain worsened. Her jacket soaked through. She kept turning, hoping to see Max’s car. How could he leave her? She reached for her phone—*damn it, left at home.*
“Just perfect,” she whispered.
Max would be furious she wasn’t answering. He didn’t know. *Max, please come back. It’s raining. I’m cold.*
Another car stopped—a van with curtained windows. The driver offered a lift. She shook her head.
Tears mixed with rain. She trudged on, shivering, until a woman in a sedan pulled over. “Get in. You’ll catch pneumonia.”
Too exhausted to refuse, Emily climbed in.
“Someone hurt you?” the woman asked.
Emily trembled, silent.
The woman turned up the heat. “Take these.” She handed over tissues.
“We fought. We were going to his friends’ place.”
“And he *left* you?” The woman shook her head. “Men.”
Emily wiped her face.
“Where to?”
She gave her address.
“Close to me.” The woman handed her a card at the door. “Call if you need help. And no hot baths, alright? Not safe in your condition.”
Inside, Emily checked her phone—no calls.
*Didn’t even check on me. Absolute prat.*
She changed, wrapped herself in a blanket, and dozed off.
She woke to Max clutching her, whispering, “Em, I’m sorry. I’m a fool. Forgive me.”
He kissed her, frantic. “I got lost, my phone died. An old woman said I’d lose something precious if I didn’t fix it. She said—you’re pregnant?”
Emily nodded.
“I swear, I’ll never leave you again.”
She cried, but this time with relief.
“Promise me no more zoos,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“Never mind. I love you.”
Promises were easy in love. Harder to keep. But for now, he was here. That was enough.
The baby was born healthy. They married.
They still fought—what couple didn’t? But they always made up. Max would whisper she was his everything, and she’d melt.
And so it went. Life, in all its messy glory.
