**The House of Hope**
Emily lay with her eyes wide open, tracing the streaks of headlights flickering across the ceiling from the cars passing by. Rain drummed lightly against the window ledge. On the sofa, Daniel let out a muffled snore before settling again. How long had it been since they’d shared a bed?
They’d met fourteen years ago. Emily had been running late for her best friend Sophie’s birthday party, arriving just as the guests were seated at the table.
“—Come on, hurry!” Sophie had tugged Emily inside, barely giving her time to take off her coat.
Emily greeted everyone awkwardly, flustered under the table’s collective gaze. She fumbled with the gift, avoiding eye contact as she handed it over.
“—Sophie, don’t leave Em standing there! Daniel, fetch another chair from the kitchen,” Sophie’s mother chided gently.
A tall, handsome lad smiled and offered Emily his seat. It took her a moment to place him—Sophie’s older brother, back from his service in the army, broader and more mature. He returned with a stool, wedging it between the chairs beside her.
Someone raised another toast, glasses clinking. Daniel passed Emily a glass of red wine.
“—I don’t drink,” she whispered.
“—It’s juice,” he murmured, close enough that his breath warmed her ear. Their glasses met with a quiet chime.
He spooned small portions of every salad onto her plate. Her friends kept stealing glances at him, giggling behind their hands.
Later, Sophie’s parents tactfully retreated to the kitchen while the younger crowd turned up the music, pushed the table aside, and danced. Daniel suggested they slip away. They wandered the city for hours, talking. After that, they were inseparable.
“—We can get married now. Will you?” Daniel asked Emily after their graduation ball.
Would she? She’d been head over heels for ages. But what would Mum say?
“—Married? Have you lost your minds? He’s got a trade now, but you’ve got university ahead of you. What’s the rush? Wait a few years, get settled first—” Mum pleaded, pressing her hands to her chest, blinking back tears.
“—Sorry, but we can’t wait that long,” Daniel intervened.
Mum’s gasp was sharp—the pieces clicking—before she crumpled into quiet sobs.
So instead of university, seven months later, Emily gave birth to a boy. Daniel worked at the garage while she stayed home. She turned out to be a good mother, a devoted wife.
They lived with Emily’s mum until their son started nursery. Then she took a job—a client from Daniel’s garage hired her as his secretary. Soon, they scraped together enough for a mortgage.
A growing son, a loving husband, a stable home. Emily thought it would always be this way.
Then, a year ago, a beautiful young woman moved into the flat next door. One evening, she turned up with a cake and a bottle of wine. Emily laid out a spread, and they drank.
Olivia—that was her name—knew endless jokes, delivering them with perfect timing. She and Daniel laughed until their sides ached. Then Olivia asked if he could help assemble some furniture—a wardrobe she’d bought.
“—He’s brilliant at that sort of thing. Of course he’ll help,” Emily answered breezily.
The next evening, he went over to put it together. Then Olivia needed boxes moved, a light fixture hung… Soon, Daniel was over there most nights. Sometimes Olivia popped in for a chat.
“—You’re so lucky. Such a perfect family,” Olivia sighed. “I’ve no one—no husband, no kids.”
“—Don’t worry. You’re young, lovely. You’ll meet someone,” Emily reassured her.
“—I already have,” Olivia blurted suddenly.
Emily didn’t pry, genuinely happy for her. The way Olivia’s cup trembled, how she looked away—Emily chalked it up to embarrassment.
Then, one evening, their neighbour pulled her aside.
“—Emily, love, I know it’s not my place, but you ought to know. My flat faces Olivia’s. I wasn’t snooping, but when you hear footsteps at night—”
A cold dread slithered down Emily’s spine. She wanted to bolt, but the woman gripped her wrist.
“—I peeked through the peephole. Saw someone slipping out of Olivia’s flat—straight into yours.”
Emily wrenched free, stumbling back.
“—Daniel’s a good man. The kind women like Olivia prey on. Think carefully before you act. Men—well, they’re weak to temptation, especially when it’s thrown at them.”
The words drilled into her skull. Stunned, Emily staggered upstairs. “*It’s lies. Daniel wouldn’t—he couldn’t—*” But the sickening weight wouldn’t lift. Shame, fury, grief swelled inside her. “*After all I did for her—*” She nearly marched to Olivia’s door but forced herself to wait for Daniel.
When he returned, she unleashed everything—rage, betrayal—even hurling a vase. He dodged, the shattering glass snapping her back to sanity.
“—Go. Anywhere. I can’t look at you. How could you? How will you face our son?” Her voice was hollow.
Daniel didn’t shout, didn’t defend himself. He cleaned up the shards while she locked herself in the bathroom, sobbing. That night, he slept on the sofa.
The next morning, he said he wasn’t leaving and left for work before she could reply.
Olivia vanished—maybe fled town. Mum called, begging Emily not to be rash.
“—I can’t forgive him, Mum. You never forgave Dad, yet you’re telling me to?”
“—I didn’t. And I’ve regretted it every day.”
But Emily wouldn’t hear it. She and Daniel became silent housemates.
“—Give me your shirt, I’ll wash it.”
“—Take the bins out.”
“—Talk to Jamie—he got in a fight at school.”
That was all.
Spring came, warm and welcome. The ice between them didn’t thaw.
Then Dad died. Mum’s call left Emily numb.
“—He left you his house—your gran’s old place. He lived there till the end. Wanted you to have it.”
“—You spoke to him?”
Now and then. Asked after you and Jamie. Forgive me for not saying. You and Daniel should go, see the place. Sell it if you want—Jamie’ll need uni fees soon.”
That evening, she told Daniel over dinner.
“—It’s your house,” he said, standing.
“—I can’t manage alone.”
“—Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Days later, he asked, “Shall we go see this house?”
Jamie sulked about leaving his gadgets but eventually dozed off in the car, waking only when they bumped onto the dirt road leading to the village.
The house stood weathered but sturdy. A cheerful elderly woman—Margaret—greeted them with the keys.
“—Your dad was a good man. Stubborn, though.” She bustled them inside. “Needs airing out. I’ll fetch you milk and eggs.”
“—We’re only looking—”
“—Nonsense! Stay the night. It’s lovely in summer. An artist keeps asking to buy it—”
Margaret finally left. They lit the fireplace—Daniel surprising her with his skill—while Emily studied an old photo of herself pinned to the wall.
Had Dad thought of her often? She’d never asked after him.
Jamie fished the next day, animated in a way Emily hadn’t seen in months. Daniel, too, seemed to wake from a long sleep, insisting she see the river.
Margaret returned with gossip—how Dad had helped everyone, how he’d faded after his caretaker left.
“—And your mum never remarried?”
“—No.”
“—Ah, life.” Margaret sighed.
On their last evening, Daniel held her in the creaky old bed.
“—I’ve missed you. So much.”
They stifled laughter, sneaking out like teenagers.
By morning, the wall between them had crumbled. Jamie caught them kissing.
“—Made up, then?”
For the first time in a year, they were a family again.
As they left, Emily studied the house—their salvation. Dad, alone at the end, had given them a chance to avoid his mistakes.
Her anger at him—at Daniel—melted away.
“—Bring me sausages and sweets next time!” Margaret called.
Jamie chattered about summer plans, forgetting his earphones. Daniel’s hand rested on Emily’s knee.
They drove away with hope—that whatever came, they’d face it together.
“—Em, time to go!” Daniel called.
She locked the door, smiling.
