The husband sent his wife to the countryside to help her lose weight, because hed lost interest, leaving him free to indulge in pleasures with his secretary.
*”Steven, I dont understand what you want,”* said Emily.
*”Nothing major,”* replied Steven. *”I just need some space, a bit of quiet. Go to the countryside, relax, shed a few pounds. Youve let yourself go a bit.”*
His disdainful glance lingered on her figure. Emily knew the medication had caused the weight gain, but she said nothing.
*”Where is this countryside?”* she asked.
*”Somewhere picturesque,”* Steven smiled. *”Youll love it.”*
Emily chose not to argue. She needed a break too. *”Maybe were just tired of each other,”* she thought. *”Let him have his fun. And I wont return until he begs me to.”*
She started packing.
*”Youre not angry, are you?”* Steven pressed. *”Its just for a little whilejust to rest.”*
*”No, its fine,”* Emily answered with a tight smile.
*”Right, Im off then,”* Steven said, kissing her cheek before leaving.
Emily exhaled deeply. Their kisses had lost their warmth long ago.
The journey took far longer than expected. Emily took two wrong turnsthe GPS glitched, and there was no signal. Finally, a weathered sign announced the village. The place was remote, the cottages quaint but well-kept, with carved wooden details.
*”No modern comforts here,”* Emily thought.
She wasnt wrong. The house was near-derelict. Without a car or phone, she might as well have stepped into the past. Emily pulled out her mobile. *”Ill call him now,”* she decided, but stillno bars.
The sun dipped low, exhaustion weighing on her. If she didnt find shelter, shed spend the night in the car.
She had no desire to return to the city, nor to give Steven the satisfaction of saying shed failed.
Stepping out, her red coat clashed absurdly with the muted village landscape. She chuckled.
*”Well, Emily, we wont get lost,”* she muttered aloud.
The next morning, a roosters shrill cry woke her as she dozed in the car.
*”Whats all that noise?”* she grumbled, rolling down the window.
The rooster glared at her with one beady eye before resuming its racket.
*”Why are you shouting?”* Emily snappedbut then a broom swooshed past the window, silencing the bird.
An elderly man appeared by the roadside.
*”Morning!”* he greeted.
Emily blinked, startled. The villagers seemed plucked from a fairy tale.
*”Dont mind our rooster,”* the old man said. *”Hes harmless, just loud as a foghorn.”*
Emily laughed, her weariness vanishing. The old man grinned too.
*”Staying long, or just passing through?”*
*”For a rest, however long it takes,”* Emily replied.
*”Come inside, love. Have breakfast. Meet the wifeshe bakes cakes and no one left to eat them. Grandkids visit once a year, the kids barely at all”*
Emily didnt hesitate. She needed to know these people.
The wife, Margaret, was every bit the storybook grandmotherapron-clad, scarf tied over silver hair, her toothless smile framed by deep, kind wrinkles. The cottage was spotless, cozy.
*”Its wonderful here!”* Emily exclaimed. *”Why dont the children visit more?”*
Margaret shrugged. *”We told them not to. The roads are awful. After rain, its a week before you can leave. There was a bridge once, but it collapsed fifteen years back. Were cut off. Stevenmy husbandonly drives to the shop once a week. The boat wont take the weight anymore. Hes strong, but age”*
*”These cakes are divine!”* Emily said. *”Doesnt anyone look after you? Someone should.”*
*”Whats the use? Theres only fifty of us now. Once it was a thousand. Everyones left.”*
Emily frowned.
*”Thats odd. What about the council?”*
*”Other side of the bridge. Detours sixty miles. Think we havent asked for help? Always the same answer: no funds.”*
Emily knew shed found her project.
*”Tell mewheres the council? Or take me there? Doesnt look like rain.”*
The elders exchanged glances.
*”You serious? You came to rest.”*
*”I am. Rest comes in many forms. And if it rains? Ive got to think of myself too.”*
Their smiles warmed.
At the council, they scoffed:
*”How long dyou plan to pester us? Making us out to be villains. Look at the towns roads! Wholl fund a bridge for fifty people? Find a sponsor. Like Harrington. Heard of him?”*
Emily nodded. Of course she hadHarrington owned the company her husband worked for. He was from here; his parents had moved to the city when he was ten.
After a sleepless night, Emily made her choice. She had Harringtons numberSteven had called him from her phone before. Shed approach him as a stranger, never mentioning Steven.
The first call failed. On the second, Harrington listened, paused, then burst out laughing.
*”Blimey, Id almost forgotten I was born there. Hows it holding up?”*
Emily brightened. *”Lovely. Peaceful, wonderful people. Ill send photos and videos. Mr. Harrington, Ive tried everythingno one will help these folks. Youre their only hope.”*
*”Ill think on it. Send the photosId like to remember.”*
For two days, Emily filmed and photographed for Harrington. Messages were read, but no reply came. Just as she gave up, he called:
*”Emily, could you come to my office tomorrowthree oclock? Id like a preliminary plan.”*
*”Of course. Thank you!”*
*”Funny, isnt it? Life races bynever time to stop and dream.”*
*”I know. But you should visit. Ill be there tomorrow.”*
Hanging up, she realizedit was the same office where Steven worked. Smirking, she anticipated the shock ahead.
She arrived early, an hour to spare. Parking, she headed for Stevens office. His secretary was absent. Voices drifted from the break room. Peering in, she found Steven and his secretary.
At the sight of her, they froze. Emily stood rooted in the doorway while Steven scrambled to fasten his trousers.
*”Emilywhat are you doing here?”*
She fled, colliding with Harrington in the corridor. Shoving documents into his hands, she bolted for the exit, tears blinding her. She didnt remember driving back to the village. Once there, she collapsed onto the bed, sobbing.
Morning brought a knock at the door. Harrington stood outside with a group.
*”Good morning, Emily. You werent ready to talk yesterday, so I came to you. Fancy some tea?”*
*”Of course. Come in.”*
Not a word about last night. They drank tea, villagers gathering outside. Harrington gazed out the window.
*”Blimey, quite the crowd! Emily, isnt that old Mr. Thompson?”*
Emily smiled. *”It is.”*
*”Thirty years ago, he was already a grandad, and his missus fed us cakes.”*
Harrington looked at her, concerned. She replied: *”Margarets fit as a fiddlestill baking her famous cakes.”*
The day buzzed with activity. Harringtons team measured, scribbled notes, calculated.
*”Emily, may I ask about your husband. Do you forgive him?”*
Emily considered, then smiled. *”No. And Im grateful it happened. Sowhat now?”*
Harrington fell silent. Emily stood, surveying the scene.
*”If the bridge is rebuilt, this place could be magical! Restore the cottages, create retreats. Untouched nature. But no one cares. And if I didnt want to go back”*
Harrington watched her, admiration glinting. She was specialdetermined, sharp. Hed never noticed before, but now
*”Emily, may I visit again?”*
She met his gaze. *”Whenever you like. Id be happy.”*
Construction began swiftly. The villagers thanked Emily, youngsters trickling back. Harrington became a frequent guest.
Steven called repeatedly. Emily ignored him, eventually blocking his number.
At dawn, a sharp rap at the door. Groggy, Emily opened itexpecting trouble, but finding Steven.
*”Hi, Em
