In early November, the weather took a sharp turn for the worse. A stinging sleet fell from the sky, and the wind whipped hats off heads and flung open coat flaps. Emily was glad her coat had a zip, but the wind cut right through her, especially her legs in their thin tights and short boots. She hunched her shoulders at the bus stop, looking like a ruffled sparrow. Still, no bus came.
A foreign car pulled up to the kerb, and the driver honked. The people at the stop exchanged glances, all somehow looking at Emily. She approached the car, and the window rolled down—it was a man from work.
“Hop in before you freeze. The bus is ages away,” he said with a smile.
Without hesitation, Emily took the passenger seat. Inside, it was warm, the howling wind silenced.
“Thanks,” she said, settling in.
“Don’t mention it. I drive this way every day, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“I usually leave earlier, but I was delayed today,” Emily replied.
William had noticed the quiet young woman for a while. Whenever he visited the accounts department, she’d greet him politely before burying her head in paperwork again—no gossip, no flirting, unlike some of the others. Spotting her at the bus stop had been a stroke of luck—fifteen whole minutes with her beside him.
Once, Sarah had been just as reserved and gentle. But after marriage, she’d changed—become irritable, snapping over every little thing. At first, William thought it was the pregnancy. Then their daughter was born, and things got worse. Sarah was never satisfied, always complaining—how he didn’t earn enough, how other women had better husbands, how her friend Lucy had bought a new fur coat while Mary had jetted off to the Maldives…
“We’ll pay off the mortgage, and things will improve,” William reassured her.
“By the time we retire?” she’d shout, and the cycle would start again.
One evening, walking home in the dark, the glow from windows barely lighting the estate, William saw a car stop by their building. A woman flitted out, waved cheerfully at the driver, and laughed—a laugh he knew too well.
His stomach turned. He realised her constant nagging hadn’t been about him—she’d just found someone better off. As he entered the building, the rapid click of her heels and the lingering scent of expensive perfume filled the stairwell.
He didn’t make a scene. Just packed his things.
“Go, and don’t come back!” Sarah yelled from the bedroom.
Their daughter, Lily, rushed to him, clinging to his legs.
“Daddy, don’t go!”
“I’m not leaving you, sweetheart. I’ll always be your dad.”
He adored Lily.
Sarah appeared in the hallway, arms crossed.
“You won’t get the flat. Don’t even hope for it.”
William turned sharply.
“I’ve paid the mortgage all these years. I need somewhere to live too.”
“Real men leave everything to their wives and kids when they walk out,” she sneered.
“Then I’m not a real man.” William left.
In court, he listened in shame as Sarah accused him of neglecting them, forcing her to scrimp and struggle while he did nothing. The judge cut her short, pointing out her designer dress and Italian boots. No fur coat, indeed. The divorce was quick.
Splitting the flat took longer. Sarah rejected every estate agent’s suggestion. Eventually, she took a flat with a big kitchen in the same area, while William got a tiny, neglected one-bedroom on the outskirts. After work, he fixed it up—keeping busy eased the ache in his chest.
One day, he cracked—met Lily after school. She hugged him, crying. His heart shattered. He called Sarah, asking if Lily could visit him for a few hours at weekends. Expecting a fight, he was surprised when she agreed—it freed her up for her own life.
So, weekends became theirs—cinema trips when the weather was nice, quiet evenings in his little flat.
William glanced at Emily now. She was lost in thought, staring ahead. At the office, she thanked him politely—no flirtation, no fuss—before stepping out.
The next evening, he waited at her stop again.
“What time do you leave home in the mornings?” he asked as she prepared to get out.
“You’ll spoil me. It’s easy to get used to the good life,” she smiled before shutting the door.
Soon, he was driving her daily, then asked her to the cinema…
“He’s decent. What are you waiting for? Some younger woman will snap him up,” her friend warned. “Is it just rides, or…?”
“Don’t be crude. My son’s a teenager—he needs watching,” Emily deflected.
“All the more reason to introduce them. A man in the house would help.”
Emily considered it. She liked William—respectful, patient, never pushy. But her son’s reaction worried her. One weekend, she invited William over, baking pies all morning.
“Mum, are we having guests?” Jack asked, poking his head into the kitchen.
“Lunch. You’ll stay?”
“Do I have to?” he grumbled.
“Just wash up first.” She swatted his hand as he reached for the sliced ham.
She dressed up—curled her hair, dabbed on mascara and lipstick. Jack stared but stayed quiet. When William arrived with roses and chocolates, Jack stiffened, answering questions curtly before retreating to his room.
“He hates me,” William sighed, gathering his coat.
“It’s not you. We’ve been just us two for so long. He’s jealous—in a childish, boyish way. He needs time…”
Later, Emily found Jack at his computer, headphones on.
“Jack, he was just visiting. One day, you’ll marry—what if your girl doesn’t like me? How would you feel if I made it obvious?”
Jack kept his eyes on the screen. She wasn’t sure he’d heard.
“You’re the most important man in my life. If you say no, he won’t come back.”
On Monday, William waited at the stop.
“How’s Jack? Still against me?”
“He needs time. He’s a good boy—just not ready to share me. Maybe I rushed things. I’m sorry, Will, but his opinion matters. It’s his call.”
Emily left work early to avoid him. Days passed without meeting—too many colleagues around for a private talk.
So William decided to speak to Jack. He waited outside Jack’s school, skipping work. When the bell rang, students poured out like scattered peas. Finally, Jack appeared—laughing with two friends. William called out as they passed.
“What?” Jack trudged over.
“Got a minute?” William nodded to the passenger seat.
Jack hesitated—then told his mates to go ahead.
“Seatbelt,” William said, starting the engine.
“Why’s your car so old? Can’t afford a new one?” Jack sneered.
“Fair point. I had a wife, a daughter—Lily. The mortgage took most of my pay. Sarah hated it—wanted furs, diamonds, holidays. Found someone richer.”
“So you’ve got nowhere to live, and now you’re after my mum?”
“I’ve got a flat—small, on the outskirts. We split ours—on her terms. But I’ve liked your mum for ages. After the divorce, I was scared to try again. Then I gave her a lift and couldn’t stop thinking about her. I respect her—and your decision. But ask yourself—will you be happy making her unhappy? She’s young. She does everything for you. Why do you get to choose for her?”
They’d been parked for ages, neither noticing. Silence hung heavy.
“You want to marry her?” Jack finally asked.
“Yes. But she needs your blessing.”
“Don’t bring roses. She thinks cutting them is cruel—loves gerberas instead. And no flashy jewellery. If you give her a ring, keep it small and simple.” Jack opened the door.
“Cheers!” William called after him.
That Saturday at eleven, when most were just finishing breakfast, the doorbell rang.
“You?” Emily gasped, seeing William with a bouquet of gerberas.
“You’ve been avoiding me. I can’t take it.” He handed her the flowers.
Jack appeared in the doorway. Emily hid her smile in the petals.
“Jack, I’ve come to ask for your mum’s hand.” William pulled out a blue velvet box—inside, a delicate ring. The hallway light caught the tiny stone’s sparkle. Emily looked between the ring, William, and Jack—fear and hope in her eyes.
“I’m fine with it. What about you, Mum?” Jack grinned. William and Emily exhaled in unison.
Over tea, Emily kept glancing at the ring—miraculously the right size. William and Jack exchanged knowing looks. They agreed to a May wedding—outdoors, in the countryside.
Some might say adults shouldn’t let children decide their fate. But if they interfere in their children’s lives,But as they sat there, the sun streaming through the kitchen window, laughter filling the air, it was clear that love—in all its messy, imperfect forms—had found its way into each of their hearts.
