The door to the office swung open, and a tall, tanned young man stepped in, giving Emily a steady look before speaking in a smooth tone.
“Good afternoon, Emily Blackwood. I’m Mark, your new business partner.”
A jolt of electricity seemed to run through her. She smiled politely, gesturing to the chair. “Please, have a seat.” Her nerves fluttered, but soon, conversation flowed.
Rain tapped against the windows as midnight crept closer. Emily glanced at the kitchen clock before tucking the untouched dinner into the fridge and heading to bed. She no longer called her husband’s phone these days—no more waiting up. The habit had worn her out. Or maybe she’d just grown used to it.
She’d loved Michael since university. They’d married for love, their romance blooming in their third year. A year and a half later, their son Thomas arrived—now five.
Her parents had gifted them a flat in a new development for their wedding. It suited them for now, though they’d planned to move somewhere bigger.
Right after graduation, Michael and his friend Adrian had gone into business. Adrian had studied medicine, working in a clinic before launching his own private practice. Michael, an economist, joined as his partner, and soon Adrian recruited more of their old classmates. The practice expanded, opening two branches in London.
Emily stayed home with Thomas. She’d considered working—she had the degree—but Michael had insisted.
“Em, focus on Thomas. I’ll take care of everything. Once he starts school, we’ll talk about work.”
“Alright,” she agreed, though the days dragged.
Life was comfortable. Holidays in Thailand every year, no financial worries. For her birthday, Michael bought her a car. But as the business thrived, his warmth faded. The cheerful student she’d fallen for was gone.
Evenings were lonely, waiting for him past midnight. Sometimes he ate what she’d kept warm—most nights, he collapsed straight into bed. The distance between them grew, their once-easy conversations replaced by silence.
“I need a change,” she decided one day. She booked a salon appointment, slipped into a new dress, and surprised him at work.
“Emily? You look incredible!” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s go to dinner.”
The evening was perfect—flowers, a small gift, compliments. For the first time in ages, they laughed together. Over dessert, she broached the subject.
“Maybe we should think about another baby.”
“Another?” He blinked. “Hadn’t crossed my mind. Let’s see how things go.”
She was nearly asleep when the hospital called—no details, just urgency. Shaking, she left Thomas with the neighbor. Her mind spun with possibilities. An accident?
The gurney in the corridor held a bloodied figure. Michael. Dead. She screamed, sobbed, refused to believe it. But the words echoed—crash, resuscitation, a girl…
After that night, Thomas went to her parents. Emily locked herself away, drowning in grief and a bottle of whiskey. Photos of happier times mocked her.
The police said a car had swerved into Michael’s lane. He and Adrian died instantly.
Months passed. Her mother’s voice was firm.
“Emily, you have Thomas. You need to work now—for him.”
Michael’s share of the business fell to her. Steeling herself, she visited the practice. A new receptionist sat at the desk.
“Where’s Sophie?”
“You must be Emily Blackwood. I’m covering for her—she’s in hospital. Didn’t you know?”
“No. What happened?”
“She was in the car with Michael and Adrian.”
Fragments of that night resurfaced—a girl, intensive care. Emily rushed to the hospital but was turned away. Days later, she returned with supplies.
Sophie paled when she saw her. “How are Michael and Adrian?”
Emily’s voice dropped. “They’re gone.”
Sophie turned to the window, tears streaming. Emily retreated, guilt twisting in her chest.
Weeks later, the hospital called with news.
“Sophie’s being discharged. She and the baby are fine.”
“Baby?”
“You didn’t know? She’s pregnant.”
Sophie sat up as Emily entered.
“Your discharge is tomorrow. Need a lift?”
“I don’t have anyone.”
“What about the father?”
Sophie’s face crumpled. “It was Michael. I’m so sorry.”
The words hit like a second blow. Emily fled, driving blindly until she stopped outside the city.
“How could he?” She gripped the steering wheel. A dark thought surfaced—maybe his death was a mercy. Had he lived, he’d have left her for Sophie.
She didn’t fire Sophie—let her work until maternity leave. When the baby came, Sophie would disappear from her life.
Then, an early-morning call.
“Sophie didn’t survive the birth. The baby’s healthy. Your number was her only emergency contact.”
Emily’s hands shook. Another shock. The child would go into care—no relatives left.
But he was Thomas’s half-brother. The same blood.
She drove to the hospital, signed the papers, and took the boy home.
“Thomas, this is Harry—your brother. Dad sent him to us.”
Thomas grinned. “He’s tiny! Will he grow fast?”
“Just like you did.”
At Michael’s grave, Emily held Harry close.
“He’s yours, Michael. I’ll raise him as mine.”
Years passed. Emily ran the business, her mother helping with the boys. Then one day, the office door opened—Adrian’s brother, Mark, back from Germany.
The spark between them was instant. Both froze, stunned. Emily recovered first, offering him a seat.
They talked for hours. Mark slotted into the business seamlessly.
A new chapter began—one Emily prayed would be free of tragedy. Mark, too, had his wounds—his ex-wife and daughter stayed in Germany.
Life, relentless as ever, moved on.
