Between Us, a Chasm…
Emily struggled to pick up the pieces after her divorce from David. She’d suspected his infidelity but still wasn’t prepared for the truth. Their life together—the plans, the dreams—had crumbled to nothing. One day, David simply walked out, vanishing from her world.
Summer faded, but Emily barely noticed—the sunshine, the city’s hum, even the rainbows after storms passed her by. One sweltering night, she lay awake, suffocated by the heat and her own despair. Then it struck her: she wasn’t living. She was drowning.
*This flat is a graveyard of memories. I have to leave. Not somewhere crowded or flashy—somewhere quiet. The countryside. Gran’s cottage. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?* She sat bolt upright, her nightdress clinging to her damp skin.
Gran had passed three years ago. She’d been ill for a long time. But David had convinced Emily to take that trip to Italy. *Ten days won’t change anything*, he’d said. The news of Gran’s death reached them in Naples. *No use rushing back now. Tickets are a hassle. We’ll visit the grave when we return.* And, as always, she’d listened to him.
Her stepfather’s sprawling holiday home near the outskirts of town had been an option, but Mum had long talked of selling Gran’s cottage—though she never quite got round to it.
Emily hadn’t been back to the village since university. Too many reasons—or none at all.
Her palms itched with impatience. She snatched up her phone, ready to ring Mum for the keys, then saw the time. Too late. Everyone was asleep. She exhaled, sinking back. *It’s fine. I know what to do now.*
Morning came, crisp and clear. She called Mum straight away.
*”Finally! You’re actually thinking about something besides David. The world doesn’t revolve around him, you know—”* Mum droned on.
*”Please. Don’t. I don’t need platitudes. Just find the keys.”*
*”They’re in the hallway drawer. Come round—I’d like to see you. The place is fine. Auntie Margaret asked about it last spring. Said the cottage still stands. Asked if we’d sell. Her new son-in-law fancies a country bolt-hole. Maybe we should both go—”*
*”No. Just me. I’ll pop by after work.”*
All day, her mind wandered to the trip. At the estate agency where she worked, her boss—herself divorced—listened with a frown. *”Tried filling the void with work, didn’t work. Need to get away.”* Reluctantly, her boss agreed.
That evening, Emily collected the keys, packed lightly—just the essentials. Strangely, she slept soundly.
At dawn, she gulped down coffee, checked the flat one last time, and left.
The city still slumbered. Sunlight gilded the rooftops. Emily hummed along to the radio, nerves humming too.
The village hadn’t changed. The cottage stood firm. Even the lawn had been mowed—some neighbour’s kindness. Stepping out of the car, she breathed in the quiet. Crickets chirped, birds sang, a rooster crowed. A dog rattled its chain next door. But compared to the city, the silence was vast.
Inside, the air felt damp, the curtains heavy with dust. She set to work—fetched water from the well, scrubbed floors, hauled in firewood. When the hearth finally roared to life, she felt triumphant.
Villagers eyed her car, peered through windows—but didn’t intrude. Uninvited guests weren’t the done thing.
The cottage warmed quickly. Emily aired the bedding, then slipped out to the river behind the village. She kicked off her sandals, waded in—the water dark and smooth as oil.
Further upstream, she tossed her sundress aside and plunged in.
*”Thought I heard splashing. What’s this—a mermaid?”*
She spun round. *Thomas.* Older, rougher, but unmistakable. Her first love. A fishing rod in one hand, a string of trout in the other.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Memories crashed over her.
This was why she’d stayed away. Because of him. Once, she’d begged to live here with Gran—just to be near him. Mum had refused. *”What future is there in that?”*
She’d begged Thomas to come to the city. He’d promised—but never came. Then Gran mentioned his marriage. Emily never returned. At university, she’d met David—marrying him more out of spite than love.
*”You’re alone? No husband?”* Thomas studied her.
*”Yes. How’d you know?”*
*”I came. Saw you both once.”*
*”When?”* But she remembered—a friend’s wedding. David had fetched her. Walking out, she’d glimpsed a familiar face—then lost it in the crowd.
*”I came to explain. About Natalie… Not making excuses, but she took advantage. One time. Then she said she was pregnant. What could I do? Married her. Ollie’s eight now. Little Rosie’s three.”*
Emily smirked.
*”I know what you’re thinking. Ollie—accident. Rosie? Well… Things were never right with Nat. Every word I say, she twists. You’re city. I’m country. Between us—it’s a chasm. Nat’s one of us. Or so I thought.”*
Standing in her swimsuit, his gaze prickled her skin. She tugged on her sundress—clinging, damp, no better.
*”Cold?”*
They walked back. At the village’s edge, she suggested parting ways.
*”Everyone sees everything here. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re alone.”* He slowed his pace for her. *”Glad you came. Cities are all noise. Here—peace. The woods are full of mushrooms. Fancy a forage tomorrow?”*
She said she’d think about it.
The cottage sweltered from the hearth, but at least it smelled lived-in. She left the door ajar to cool it. That night, unfamiliar creaks kept her awake—mice scratching, floorboards groaning like ghosts. At dawn, she gave up and wandered into the woods.
A twig snapped. Something huge thrashed in the undergrowth. She bolted, lungs burning—then realised she was lost.
*”Need a guide?”*
Thomas emerged, grinning. *”Wild boar. Dangerous alone.”*
He tipped half his basket of mushrooms into hers, ignoring her protests. *”Nat’s sick of cleaning them.”*
Walking back, she caught his lingering glances—flustered, yet warm. Strange—she hadn’t thought of David once.
*”That way home,”* he pointed. *”I’ll go round. Best not be seen together.”*
She bit back questions, walked on. When she turned, he was gone.
Village eyes missed nothing. Back home, Emily cleaned mushrooms, humming. The cottage filled with their rich scent.
Then the door banged open.
*”What d’you want?”* Natalie stormed in, eyes blazing. *”No men left in town? Stay away from Thomas. Or else—”*
*”Or else what?”* Emily narrowed her eyes. No more letting others dictate her life.
A pot boiled over. When Emily turned back, Natalie had vanished.
Later, Auntie Margaret visited—some distant relative.
*”Hullo, love. Checking the cottage? Your mum mentioned selling. We’ll buy it—name a fair price.”*
*”We haven’t decided yet,”* Emily demurred.
*”No rush. Just here for a break? Good. Cities are chaos.”*
Emily laughed.
*”What’s funny?”*
*”Someone else said that yesterday.”*
Margaret’s smile faded. *”Be careful. Natalie kicked off last night. Saw you with Thomas. Threatens divorce if he strays. He nearly walked out—then she grovelled. Clinging like ivy.”*
Emily froze.
*”Watch yourself. That one’s wild.”*
She wouldn’t leave. The next two days passed quietly—Thomas only glimpsed from afar.
Then smoke woke her.
Flames roared in the doorway. Coughing, she grabbed her bag, lunged for the window—then strong arms hauled her through the fire.
Outside, the cottage blazed. Villagers flung useless buckets of water.
*”Thomas moved your car. Smart lad,”* someone said.
Auntie Margaret helped her up. *”Come with me. Nothing left here. Natalie did this—mark my words.”*
Through the crowd, Natalie smirked, eyes reflecting flames.
*”Thomas?”* Emily croaked.
*”Fine. Carried you out.”*
At dawn, Emily packed to leave.
*”Aye, best go. She’ll not stop. And who’Three years later, standing in the half-built dream house Thomas had promised her—his calloused hands holding hers, his quiet pride in every beam and brick—she finally understood that the deepest wounds could heal, and sometimes love found its way back across the chasm, stronger than before.
