Black Widow
Elegant, shrewd, and ambitious, Emily approached the end of her studies at the London School of Journalism. It was then she met Andrew, a man significantly older than her. Andrew Harrison, as everyone called him, was a celebrated figure in Manchestercomposer of songs that filled every local pub and street with cheer.
Andrew was what you might call a man of the town, familiar with nearly everyone at the local BBC. For him, arranging a presenter spot for Emily after graduation was little more than a phone call. Soon, Emily starred in her first programme, Heart-to-Heart, inviting well-known local psychologists and guests, handling lifes tough questions live on air.
Well done, Emily, Andrew praised after watching her debut, That deserves a proper celebration.
Andrew Harrison, forty-five, thrice divorced, seemed to thrive in the excitement of crowds, music, and long nights. He lacked the temperament for domestic life, always the creative, ever convinced of his own genius, spending evenings flitting through brasseries, hotel bars, and spas. He drank too much and belonged everywhere.
Time passed. Emily grew popular, married Andrew, and her shows ratings soared. She dressed with flair, her demeanour unfailingly politea dazzling star from the telly, or so people said. But she quickly realised her mistake in marrying him. Her husband was constantly intoxicated.
Andrew, don’t push your luck, his mate Simon warned one night as Andrew, drunk, tried to humiliate Emily. Shell outshine you soon enough.
No, Simon, I never chose clever wives, Andrew replied, pinching Emilys cheek. He always believed himself the cleverest, particularly over wine in the café.
His charm was evident when courting Emilyflowers, gifts, serenades, and attentively listening. Yet the moment she became his wife, all tenderness evaporated. Andrew offered her no more regard than a household cat, snapping at her over nothing.
I foolishly hoped hed make me into a star, Emily confided to herself.
Life proved otherwise. At uni shed taken French, not the most practical for travel. Andrew harped on endlessly:
Learn English. You traipse abroad like a country lass. Who cares for the gym, you waste time there, yet never squeeze in English lessons.
Stubborn, Emily resisted. But when Simon, learned and witty, remarked at dinner: For a striking woman, English is as crucial as a pair of heels, Emily enrolled in classes the next day.
Well, Simon certainly did a number on my wife, Andrew laughed. Shes bought shelves of textbooks, always listening to English in the car.
Andrew Harrison and Emily lived in a spacious flat off Oxford Road, inherited from his grandfather, a famed surgeon. Their housekeeper, Veraforty-three, solitary, envious but discreetknew everything about their lives.
One morning, Emily awoke alone. Andrew had once again passed out drunk on his study sofa, stumbling home in the early hours. In the kitchen, Vera clutched an empty bottle of cognac.
It was full last night. What will he want for breakfast when he wakes?
Brine, Emily muttered, heading for the shower.
Seven years swept by; Emily hadnt borne a childAndrew didn’t want any, already having a son from a previous marriage. She grew disillusioned with family life, focusing on her career. After breakfast, Emily sent Vera to Andrews study. He was lying face-down on the sofa, a scarlet mark blooming on the pillow.
Emily! Vera shrieked, You need an ambulance! Quickly!
Whats happened?
Dont know.
Fifteen minutes later, Emily rode in the ambulance, clutching Andrews limp hand. At the hospital, he was rushed to intensive care; the doctors were solemn.
Its complicated. We cant promise anything.
That evening brought the news:
Your husband has died.
II just cant believe it, Emily whispered. He wasnt old. The funeral was beautiful; Simon organised everything. Mourners packed the church, paying respects to a local legend. Even at the wake, Simon toasted:
Lets not mourn. Andrew lived a rich, vibrant lifehes at peace now and free of all worries.
He had it all, someone murmured to Emily.
Returning home, silence pressed in on her. Vera eyed her, wondering whether shed be dismissed. Colleagues comforted Emily instead:
Emily, theres nothing to grieveyoure young, free, and well off. Andrew left two fat bank accounts split between his son and her. Not that she needed it; her own salary was substantial. Yearning for company, she frequented local cafés.
One afternoon, after shooting another episode, Emily stopped by a neighbourhood café, sipping Spanish wine and lost in thought. A burly man approached her table with a gentle smile.
May I join you? She nodded. Martin, he introduced himself.
Why so glum? A woman as lovely as you shouldnt be sad.
Just feeling low.
Martin, about forty, stocky and chestnut-haired with coarse features, reminded Emily of her plush teddy beara thought that made her laugh.
Allow me to treat youwine, cocktail, pastry?
Just a pastry, thanks, she replied, never fussing over sweets.
Martin wasnt handsome, but his wit and charm lit up the room. He had a trove of anecdotes, making Emily laugh and forget her woes, escorting her home afterwards. They agreed to meet again.
The next morning, Emily announced to Vera,
Im letting you go. I can manage on my own.
But Emily, Ive served faithfully all these years. Where will I go?
Youll find another family or maybe become a caretaker somewhere.
Youre turning me out! Vera sobbed. I grew so attached to you and Andrew, like you were my own.
Truth is, it wont bankrupt me, but at least I wont have to clean toilets, Emily mused.
She relented, watching Vera dab at her eyes.
All right. Stay, if you must, Emily sighed. Vera brightened, even kissed her cheek.
You two became like family; I loved you both. Lost Andrew so suddenly, and now youd lose me too.
Life continued, but Martinnow affectionately called Martybecame a frequent guest. He adored Emily and married her within three months. Emily insisted on a modest wedding, but for their honeymoon Marty whisked her off to the Maldives. A successful businessman, he spared no expense.
Emily expected something akin to her trips with Andrewa direct flight, decent lodgings, the tourist checklist. Marty, however, had grander ideas. They travelled first class; upon landing, a host ushered them onto a private speedboat. On the island, they arrived amid fireworks, cocktails, and native dancers.
Their villa was magnificentfour rooms, two baths, pool, secluded beach.
God knows how much my teddy bear paid, Emily wondered.
She never cared about his wealth, knowing only that Marty was generous and gentle, always tucking her in, fussing over her breakfast, making sure she never left with just coffee.
Andrew was a real pillcondescending, always reminding me I was beneath him. Marty, for all his lack of looks, lives for me. He listens and actually cares, Emily thought.
Vera praised Marty too, delighted with their life in his sprawling country house. The only shadow emerged one day when Emily saw Marty secretly inject himself.
Whats that? she gasped.
Just insulin. Im diabeticbut its nothing, I live plenty.
Lounging in the sun, Emily mused,
Have I finally hit the jackpot?
She adored the luxury, though sometimes longed for the fitness instructures, surfers, or tennis coaches, not her lumbering, soft-hearted bear.
I should get Marty on a diet and drag him to the gym.
Bringing up the subject, Marty looked sad.
Ill try exercising for you, but with my metabolism, Ill never be an Adonis. I need insulin.
I understand, Emily replied, letting it go.
Back to work, Emily found herself restless. Was she destined to know real passion? She craved desire, to wake beside a striking man, not a plush bear. At work her colleagues teased,
Surely you have flings behind Martys back, Emily?
She wasn’t exactly virtuous, but she had no wish to hurt Marty. At the office New Year’s party, vodka flowed and her co-worker Tom called his mate Jamie to drive her home.
Emily, want a lift? Tom slurred, and she accepted.
Jamie sat Emily beside him.
Tom, why didnt you introduce me to Emily sooner? he joked, his eyes never leaving her face.
A devastatingly attractive man in a luxury car, Jamie fixed her with a piercing gaze. After dropping Tom, he offered to drive Emily home. Outside her flat, he pressed her passionately against his car, stealing a fierce kiss. Emily melted; she liked Jamies boldness and strength.
Jamie proved ideal as a loverbrutal, quick, and never one for tender words. Emily smiled at Marty at home, but Jamie wasted no time with sweetness; instead, he swept her to his bachelor pad, where their encounters were intense and brief.
Marty came home late from work, preoccupied by his business, never suspecting. One day, Emily raced to Jamies. She was undressed and in bed when Jamie, fresh from the shower, heard the doorbells persistent ring.
Whos ringing that bloody bell? Jamie grumbled. He opened the door.
Emily recognised two voicesJamie and Marty. Terrified, she scrambled for her clothes. Marty stood in the doorway, silent. It would have been easier if hed yelled.
Martyloveits not
Jamie stood quietly, not blocking the door.
Who betrayed me? Emily demanded.
What does it matter now? I wasnt sure, but had to see for myself.
Marty looked ghastlypale, drenched in sweatthen collapsed. Emily hurried over, checking his breath.
Call an ambulancequick!
Jamie phoned for help. Emily rummaged through Martys pocket, found the slim insulin pen, and injected it. She hoped hed recover, but he didnt. Paramedics arrived, but it was too late.
Hes gone, the doctor declared.
Emily reeled. Jamie drove her home. Veras face was pale as she greeted her.
Emily, whats happened? You look dreadful.
Suddenly, Emily suspected Vera had exposed herVera detested Jamie and had asked questions. But she stayed silent; what good would asking do?
After the funeral, the cause of death was listed as cardiac arrest. Then Andrews daughter with her solicitor husband appeared, kicking Emily out of Martys house. She left thick bundles of cash on the table and gave Emily three days to clear out, taking Vera with her.
Emily refused to fight over inheritanceshe wanted no part of it. She and Vera moved back to the grand Manchester flat from Andrew.
Time passed; Emily recovered with Jamies support, seeing him regularly but knowing hed never propose. One day, Tom rang her:
Emily, sit down if youre not. Jamies deadcar crash, instant.
Now Emily brooded.
Why do all my men die? Am I a black widow? Maybe my auras cursed.
Soon after, a guest named Michael joined her show. Emily noticed his intense gaze and accepted his invitation to dinner after filming.
Yes, she agreedit was time to move on.
Michael stole her heart utterlyEmily felt joy like shed never known, happiness dazzling her every day.
So, this is love she thought. Not just living, I cant even breathe without Michael. How terrifying.
Michael loved her too. They were easy together, laughter and warmth, Emily content to not even wonder about his past or family. She knew only that his father was out there, but they werent in contact; no siblings. Michael moved in. He left for work, Emily preparing for television that afternoon. Curiosity struck; she Googled Michaels name. The top result stunned her: her unassuming, beloved Michael among the countrys richest thousand.
Her hands trembled.
I dont believe it, she laughed hysterically. What a twist! Then panicwould something happen to him too?
Calming herself, she went to work. By evening, Michael hadnt called back. She phoned his office.
Good afternoon. Could you put Michael on the line?
Whos calling? the secretary asked.
Its Emily
Hes been taken to hospital… She gave the details.
Emily raced to the hospital.
Whats wrong? she sobbed at the doctor.
He reassured her gently,
Its fine, nothing direhell recover, just a heart scare. Under control.
Can I see him? Please
For ten minutes.
Emily slipped into his room; there he sat, waiting, smiling softly. She sat beside him, and he took her hands.
Its all right, love. Ill get wellthen will you marry me? Will you?
Oh, yesof course, she murmured, kissing him. We have a whole lifetime ahead, true happiness at last.Back in their flat that night, Emily watched the city lights flicker beyond the window. She poured two glasses of wine, heart thumping with something brighter than hopea rare certainty. Michael, fragile but smiling, joined her on the velvet sofa.
Do you think happiness ever gets easier? she asked quietly, searching his face for the answer.
He squeezed her hand. No, but thats what makes it real.
They sat together, letting silence settle sweetly. Emily realised her journeymarked by heartbreak, loss, and reinventionhad led her not to riches or scandal, but to this small, shining moment. Love, simple and true, finally hers.
The moon rose over Manchester as laughter drifted from their window, low and certain. Emily leaned into Michael, feeling the black widows shadow fade for good. All her life shed chased stardust, survived storms, and somehow, stumbled onto what mattered mostbeing seen, being held, being loved.
Outside, taxis sped along rain-polished streets. Somewhere, Vera played cards in the kitchen, humming an old tune. Tomorrow, the world would start up again with its chaos and longing, but tonight, Emily was finally homeheart fearless, grief forgiven.
This time, she thought, happiness would stay. And as Michael pulled the blanket over them and the citys hum softened below, Emily closed her eyes and smiled, at last ready to live bravely ever after.
