**A Worthy Suitor**
Emily stood by the window, staring at the empty yard. The trampled snow sparkled with remnants of firework glitter, and tattered strands of tinsel clung to bare shrub branches. The city felt lifeless—everyone was asleep after an exhausting New Year’s Eve. Inside, she felt just as hollow.
How had she been so blind? Why hadn’t she sensed the lies? Now it all seemed obvious, but back then… Nathan had seemed clever, affectionate, a little resentful of his father. Or rather, he’d *seemed* that way. And she’d believed he loved her.
The click of the front door lock made her start. She’d prepared a speech, but every rehearsed word vanished as quiet footsteps stopped behind her. She held her breath, tense, then shuddered as his warm breath brushed her neck.
“Em,” Nathan murmured, leaning into her shoulder.
She pulled away. “Still mad at me?” His voice was coaxing. “I don’t know what came over me. The way he looked at you—I just lost it.” He waited, but Emily stayed silent.
“It’s your fault. Smiling, clinging to him, staring like he hung the moon. I couldn’t take it.”
“Stop inventing things. We were just dancing,” she said flatly.
“Come on, forgive me. Jealousy’s natural when you love someone.” He tried to turn her around, but she shrugged off his hands.
“Em, honestly, it’s ridiculous. I’ve apologized.”
“You should apologize to *him*,” she snapped, finally meeting his eyes before looking away again.
“Fine, I went to the hospital, groveled to your sailor boy.” Nathan’s voice darkened, but Emily didn’t see the bitterness in his gaze. “He didn’t press charges. They let me go. Let’s just move on. When he’s discharged, he can come over, we’ll have a drink, bury the hatchet.”
She whirled on him.
“Come *here*? Move on? There is no *us*. Not anymore. Leave the keys and go.”
“Oh, so you’ll bring *him* here instead?” The coaxing tone vanished, replaced by venom.
“Get out. I don’t want to see you. You lied to me.” Her voice cracked despite her efforts to stay calm.
“Should’ve taught *you* a lesson too. Remember what you called me?” He gripped her arm above the elbow, yanking her close. His eyes burned with hatred.
“Let go—you’re hurting me!”
“I’ve wasted too much time on you. No, love, I’m not going anywhere. You *will* marry me.” He pulled a ring from his pocket. “Meant to give you this earlier.” He lifted her hand, forcing the ring toward her finger. Emily twisted free, but his grip tightened.
“Let me go! I won’t marry you!” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“You will—unless you want your sailor boy to stay breathing.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
“Oh, I *dare*.”
—
**Flashback**
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Daniel said.
He liked Emily—really liked her. But he’d been too afraid to tell her he was leaving. They’d only just started seeing each other.
“Where?”
“Southampton. Got into the maritime academy. Sorry I didn’t say sooner—wasn’t sure I’d get in.”
“Will you at least call?” Emily ducked her head, pouting.
“Don’t sulk. What choice do I have? No sea here. Em, I don’t want you feeling obligated to wait. Training’s long, then I’ll be gone months at a time. You don’t know how hard it is—waiting.”
“Don’t decide for me,” she shot back.
“You’ll be at uni. Plenty of blokes there—”
“Then just *leave*!” she shouted, turning on her heel.
“Em!” He almost chased her but stopped. Instead, he stood there, then trudged home alone.
When Daniel visited for Christmas break, Emily was overjoyed. They went to films, walked for hours. He told her about the academy, the sea, his mates—she listened, wishing he’d kiss her.
But he only pecked her frost-chilled cheek and left. The next day, he was gone.
Plenty of boys at uni noticed her, flirted, asked her out. But she didn’t care. Daniel called occasionally, asking friendly questions about her studies. The moment she admitted missing him, he changed the subject.
Spring brought news: her great-aunt had died. Childless, estranged from family, she’d left Emily her spacious flat in central London—a total shock. Her father was thrilled.
“It’s huge, needs no work. Perfect for when you marry,” her mum mused.
Emily kept it quiet at uni—no need to invite envy. But word slipped out. Some classmates sneered, called her stuck-up. The group leader joked about hosting parties there.
Early in her second year, she met Nathan Whitmore, an upperclassman. They talked in the canteen, started dating. Daniel was distant, made no promises. Southampton had girls too—was *he* seeing anyone?
“Whitmore… not the deputy mayor’s son?” her dad asked once.
“Dunno,” Emily shrugged.
“Ask him. Seems decent—worthy match.”
She laughed it off but mentioned it to Nathan.
“Yeah. Didn’t tell anyone. How’d you guess?”
“Dad figured it out. He likes you.”
“Your dad’s sound. Mine’s unbearable. Can’t wait to graduate and leave. I’d move out now if I could.”
That night, she asked her dad: should they rent the flat?
“To *him*? Absolutely,” he grinned. “Charge him a fair rate—not like he’s skint.”
Nathan was thrilled. He lifted her, spun her, kissed her breathless.
“You’re a lifesaver, Em. Just need to tell my parents. Don’t worry—Mum’s been nagging me to marry.” He hugged her.
Their relationship accelerated. When she stayed over, her parents scolded half-heartedly—they already pictured her married to the deputy mayor’s heir.
Emily liked Nathan but worried. He avoided introducing her to his parents, changed the subject when she asked. Something felt off.
After graduation, Nathan took an ordinary job—”to spite my dad,” he said—then proposed. She refused.
“No rush. Let me finish uni first…”
Time flew. New Year’s approached. Her friend invited them to a country-house party.
“Bring your fancy fiancé. It’ll be packed, a proper laugh.”
“How’d you know about Nathan?”
“Ran into your mum. So, marrying a Whitmore and keeping secrets?”
“I’m *not* marrying anyone,” Emily muttered.
They arrived early. Soon, cars lined the driveway.
“Where’s everyone sleeping? The house is bursting,” Emily said.
“Who’s sleeping?” her friend laughed.
The table was set, the tree twinkling, snow falling outside. The lads grilled burgers, Nathan among them, drinking to stay warm.
Later, they danced. Emily’s friend pulled her aside to wash up, but Nathan stopped her.
“Wait. New Year, fresh start. You’ve barely any uni left. I’m not rushing you, but you know how I feel.” He reached into his pocket—
“Everyone, this is Daniel Marlow—my old classmate, future sea captain!” her friend announced.
Emily froze. Daniel. He smiled, their eyes locking.
“Ran into him yesterday—dragged him here. Ladies, be nice to our lone sailor!”
Nathan fumbled with the ring. But Emily was already crossing to Daniel. They spoke softly, danced slowly while others jumped to the music.
“Em, you’re gorgeous. Almost didn’t come—so glad I did.”
To her, it felt like no time had passed. His warmth, his hands—her skin burned.
“Lost, sailor? That’s *my* girl,” Nathan snarled, shoving Daniel. “Outside. Now.”
“Daniel, don’t!” Emily begged.
“Guys, it’s nearly midnight!” someone protested.
Too late. The fight erupted in the yard, snow churning underfoot. Nathan kicked Daniel’s ribs—blood sprayed in the lamplight.
“Stop them!” Emily screamed, lunging. Nathan shoved her down. The crowd finally pulled him off. Daniel lay motionless, face bloody. Sirens wailed; the police took Nathan, the ambulance took Daniel.
Fireworks lit the sky. Laughter echoed. Emily sat numb.
Later, she remembered Daniel’s words. Nathan had lied—he wasn’t a Whitmore. A quick search confirmed it. The real Nathan Whitmore was studying abroad, smiling from his profile picture.
Her parents were devastated.
“I *knew* something was off,” her mum groaned.
“Who expects a con artist?” her dad muttered.
Emily cried herself to sleep, then visited theShe held Daniel’s hand as they stood outside their new home in Southampton, the sea breeze carrying away the last whispers of the past.
