**Diary Entry**
Love came knocking at my door…
Emily had left her quiet village for the city and enrolled at university. After a rural school, the coursework was tough, but she buried herself in textbooks all day, determined to pass her exams and keep her scholarship. Her mother could only help with food parcels.
Once she started working, she sent money back home. Every holiday, she returned to the village. She dreamed of the seaside, but always told everyone the village air, the woods, and the river were all she needed.
“Emily, when will you marry? No one catches your eye? I may never see grandchildren,” her mother sighed.
“Don’t worry, Mum, I will,” Emily brushed her off, though the constant questions about marriage grated on her nerves. Everyone in the village asked the same thing.
She’d had boyfriends, even love, but no one had ever proposed.
She worked at a newspaper office. One evening, as her shift ended, a storm raged outside. The rain eased slightly, so she pulled on her coat, grabbed her umbrella, and hurried out—only for the downpour to return with a vengeance. She huddled under the building’s awning, watching cars splash through puddles, icy droplets spraying her legs.
A black SUV slowed before a deep puddle to avoid drenching her, then stopped entirely.
“Need a lift? Even if the rain stops, the roads are flooded. You’ll need to swim home,” a man called through the open window.
She got in. Six months later, her rescuer proposed. She wasn’t head-over-heels, but it was time to settle down, and with Edward, she felt safe. They moved into his mother’s spacious flat in the city centre.
His mother took an instant dislike to her.
“Don’t think you’ll get your hands on our flat, dear. That won’t work,” she warned.
“Walking around in a dressing gown all day is indecent. You should only wear it to the bathroom. Change immediately,” her mother-in-law ordered.
Emily complied, though cleaning and cooking in smart dresses was impractical. The woman herself dressed as if for a society ball.
They couldn’t stand each other. Once, Emily overheard her urging Edward to divorce before children complicated things. Tearfully, she told him his mother was right—they should separate. She packed her things.
Edward wouldn’t let her leave. The next day, he rented a flat, and they moved out. Life improved. His mother might still nag him over the phone, but she stayed away, and Edward never repeated her words. They saved diligently, planning to buy their own place.
One Sunday, they went fishing with friends. By the time they headed home, darkness had fallen. Their friends sped ahead, leaving them behind. Edward pressed the accelerator to catch up.
Emily barely registered the headlights before the crash. A driver, either asleep or reckless, swerved into their lane. Edward died on impact. She spent four months in hospital with fractures and internal injuries.
Pale and limping, she returned to their rented flat—only to find strangers living there. Her belongings were handed over in a small bag. Edward’s mother had taken his things and returned the lease.
Emily went to her. The woman opened the door but didn’t let her in.
“Margaret, may I stay with you while I find a place?”
“Don’t be absurd. You killed my Edward. You didn’t even come to the funeral. Leave!” The door slammed.
“I was in hospital—I couldn’t come!” Emily sobbed, pounding on the wood.
“Go, or I’ll call the police!”
She didn’t even ask for half their savings.
Outside, she had nowhere to go. The friends from the lake were Edward’s, not hers. Who knew what lies Margaret had spread?
She returned to her mother’s village—only to find tragedy waiting. Her mother had died while she was hospitalised. Her phone had shattered in the crash; no one could reach her.
The house looked untouched, as if her mother had just stepped out and would return any moment, exclaiming and bustling by the stove. Tears spilled.
“Mum… I need you now.” She sank onto the bed, clutching her mother’s cardigan, breathing in her lingering scent, and wept herself to sleep.
A knock jolted her awake. “Mum’s back!” she gasped—but instead heard Edward’s voice: “Em, open up. It’s me.” She flung the door open. There he stood, face bloodied—
She woke screaming, heart hammering. Someone was really knocking. “Am I still dreaming?”
“Hello? Are you alright?” A deep male voice.
She opened the door to a tall, bearded man, his gaze sharp.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I—I came to see my mum. This is my home.”
“You weren’t at her funeral. We called—”
“I was in hospital. My husband died in the crash.”
His expression softened. “I’m Roman. I look after empty houses here. If you need anything, I’m two doors down.”
She barely slept. The next day, old Samuel visited.
“Back alone? Heard you married rich. Why skip the funeral?”
She explained.
“Ah. Money can’t buy life,” he mused.
“He wasn’t rich.”
“Your mum said—flat, car—”
“To her, everyone in the city is rich.”
“Good you came back. Heals the soul, this place. Quiet, clean. Unlike the city—noise, scoundrels… But you’re pretty. You’ll remarry.”
The talk unnerved her.
“Planning to propose? What about Nora?”
“Maybe I want a harem,” he joked.
Nora appeared, scowling. “Gossiping again? Come home.”
At the shop, the women whispered. The shopkeeper, Liza, refused Emily bread—until Roman entered.
“None left,” Liza lied.
“It’s right there,” Emily argued.
Roman bought extra and handed her half. Outside, he admitted: “I’m here on borrowed time too. My wife left me. I owed a debt to my army mate’s mother. Stayed after she died.”
A week later, Emily packed for the city.
“Leaving?” Roman asked.
“I need work, a new flat. Will you buy this house?”
“No. Just… come back?”
She left her number.
He never called. Four months passed before he appeared at her office—clean-shaven, stylish.
“You waited?” she asked when he met her after work.
“Promised, didn’t I?” He’d divorced, moved on. “I sold your harvest. Kept the money safe.”
A month later, she moved in with him. For the first time, she knew real love—not the quiet safety Edward offered.
“Thank your ex-mother-in-law,” she told Roman one morning. “Without her, I’d never have met you.”
They visited her mother’s grave in winter.
“We should put up a cross,” Roman said.
On the drive back, snow flurries blurred the road. Emily flinched at oncoming headlights—but Roman drove steadily.
She realized then: Edward hadn’t knocked that night in her dream. Love had.
And now, with Roman’s shoulder solid beside her, the darkness held no fear.
