A woman shattered by the loss of her son withdrew to the farthest corner of the countryside. Only her dog led her back to the call of her heartguiding her to a little girl hiding in the woods.
Emily placed her resignation letter on the desk of the chief physician, Dr. William Hart. He removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked at her with such deep, almost fatherly sorrow that for a moment, she wanted to take the paper back.
“Emily, think it over,” he said gently. “Perhaps you just need a break? We value youyou know that.”
She shook her head.
“I cant, Dr. Hart. Not here.”
Guilt gnawed at heras a mother, she hadnt been able to protect her child; as a doctor, she couldnt save him. Every childs cry in the hospital corridors echoed with phantom pain, every laugh a silent accusation.
Dr. Hart was a kind-hearted man, a good leader who always found the right words. Emily had long noticed the warmth in his gaze, but he never oversteppedalways tactful, always reserved. Now, his eyes held genuine sympathy, and it only made things worse.
*”Understand, Im not here anymore,”* she wanted to scream. *”The Emily you knew died with little Thomas.”*
Inside, there was nothing but hollow, icy silence. She wanted to curl up and sob until she had no tears left, but instead, she clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
“II should go,” she muttered and nearly fled the office, afraid shed break down in front of himso humanly close, yet so distant.
Only one thought drummed in her head: *Run.* Go where there were no familiar faces, no pitying looks, no childrens laughter to remind her of what shed lost. She sold her flat for next to nothingto the first buyer who came, just to be done with it.
The train crawled past a forgotten station nestled in the woods. Emily stepped onto the wooden platform, exhaustion weighing her down. Two elderly women on a bench eyed her curiously.
“Whove you come to see, love? Or did you take a wrong turn?” one asked, wrapped in a floral shawl.
Emily gave a sad smile.
“Buried my son. Just want to be alone.”
The women exchanged glances, understanding flickering in their eyes.
“Terrible grief, dear. Lydias got an empty cottageshes moving to her sons in the city. Good, solid place. Only living all alone there might drive you mad. Dont shut yourself away completely.”
They gave her the address, and Emily thanked them before trudging down the dusty lane to her new “home,” if it could be called that.
Lydia met her with suspicion at first, but hearing her story, she softened.
“Stay awhile. Rents no bother. Only thing is, theres Timour cat. A bit wild, but he keeps the mice in check. Be kind to him.”
That first night, the cottage steeped in the scent of herbs and aged wood felt endless. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle beyond the window stirred memories. *Thomas* Hed have raced through the rooms, exploring every corner.
Days crawled by, monotonous and slow. Emily cleaned, painted, scrubbedanything to keep her hands and mind occupied. But grief clung like a shadow. Evenings found her on the porch, whispering to her son about her day, tears rolling unchecked. Here, in this forgotten place, no one saw her cryand she didnt hold back.
One evening, as sorrow tightened its grip, a large grey catTimpadded silently onto the porch. He stood beside her, studying her with wise eyes, then brushed against her leg.
Emily stilled, then reached out to stroke him. His rumbling purr unleashed fresh tears. She clutched him, burying her face in his rough fur, and wept until she fell asleep right there, holding the only creature brave enough to come close.
A fortnight later, a neighbour brought her a scrappy, curious pup.
“Take him, Emily. Else theyll drown him. Good company, and hell keep watch.”
She named him Duke for his dignified air. At first, Tim hissed and arched his back, but soon relented. Now they napped together by the hearth, and for the first time in months, Emily smiled watching their antics.
Word spread that a former doctor lived in Lydias cottage, and villagers came with small requestscheck a fever, give an injection. Emily refused at first, saying she no longer practised, but their trusting faces wore her down. She helped where she could, though she kept conversations brief.
She began venturing into the woods more often. Duke bounded ahead, barking at birds, while Timsurprisinglytrailed behind, leaping over fallen logs with ease. The forest welcomed her without judgment, asked nothing in return.
*”Here, I can breathe,”* Emily thought. *”Here, I can cry without hiding. Here, I can just* be.”
And little by little, the ice around her heart began to crack.
One evening, unease prickled under her skin. Something unseen but insistent tugged her toward the woods, deep into the thicket.
“Not today,” she tried to dismiss it, but Duke whined at the door, sharing her restlessness.
Grabbing a torch, she followed him. Duke led her deeper than shed ever gone, stopping at a shadowed gully under an old oak. There, he barked frantically.
Emily shone the light and frozeon the damp earth lay a little girl, unconscious.
She scooped up the small, icy body and ran home. Charlotte was freezing, her pulse faint. Duke and Tim circled anxiously, nudging Emilys legs as if trying to help.
Inside, Emily worked quicklyrubbing Charlottes limbs, swaddling her in blankets, piling on hot water bottles. Two hours passed before the girl stirred, her pale blue eyes wide with fear.
“Where am I?” she whispered.
“Safe,” Emily answered softly. “Whats your name?”
“Charlotte My dads a doctor. Hell save me.”
Emilys heart clenched.
“Wait hereIll fetch help,” she said, stepping out before Charlotte saw her tears.
Soon, Constable Harris arriveda burly man in his fifties, driving an old Land Rover. He listened, then shook his head.
“Strange business. Shes not from here, is she?”
Charlotte had come from the city with her mother, whod rented a place from distant relatives. Her parents were divorced; her mother, it seemed, drank and fought often. Likely, another row had sent the girl fleeing into the woods.
“Heres the rub, Emily,” Harris sighed. “If we call social services, theyll take her from her mum. Her dadll have a legal battle ahead. Poor little mite.”
Emily watched Charlotteher thin face, her lashes fluttering in sleepand something shifted inside.
“Let her stay with me,” she heard herself say. “Until her father comes.”
Harris raised an eyebrow, but warmth flickered in his gaze.
“Youve a good heart, Emily. Right, then. Well contact the father. Got the mothers number?”
The next day, a familiar car pulled up. Out stepped Dr. Hart. He looked weary, thinner, but his eyes held hope.
“Charlotte! Sweetheart!” he cried, rushing to the porch where his daughter stoodpale but steadier.
They clung to each other. Emily stood frozen, stunned by the impossible coincidence.
That night, after Charlotte slept, she and Dr. Hart sat in the kitchen. He spoke of his bitter divorce, his ex-wifes unraveling life, his endless fight for his daughter. His voice trembled; words tangled. Emily listened, hearing echoes of her own loss in his pain.
Then he fell silent, studying her.
“Thank you, Emily. You saved her. And me, I think.”
His voice held such tenderness and exhaustion that her lips quivered. That night, he stayed. No promises were madejust silent understanding that theyd both walked through hell, and perhaps here, in this quiet place, theyd been given a chance to start anew.
For days, they lived in quiet harmony. Charlotte played with Duke and Tim, picked berries with Emily. Dr. Hart chopped wood, mended fences. For the first time in so long, Emily felt peacea fragile spark of hope flickering to life. She didnt want them to leave.
Then, suddenly, a sleek car screeched into the yard. A disheveled woman stormed out, shrieking,
“Give me my daughter!”
Dr. Hart tried to calm her, but she grew wilder.
Duke growled; Tim arched, hissing so fiercely the woman faltered.
Emily stepped forward.
“Charlotte stays with her father,” she said firmly. “You should go.”
Her tone left no room for argument. After a hesitation, the woman climbed back into her car and sped off. Constable Harris, arriving at the neighbours call, only shrugged.
That evening, once calm returned, Dr. Hart took Emily
