**A Love That Lasts a Lifetime**
At fourteen, Emily’s world was heavy with responsibility—household chores, caring for her ailing mother, and keeping up with schoolwork. She dreamed of becoming a doctor.
“Mum, once I finish university, I’ll treat you myself. You’ll get better. You’re still young,” she’d say, though secretly she cried in her tiny bedroom, overwhelmed by frustration and helplessness.
They lived in a quiet village just outside Manchester, in a small house where everyone knew each other’s business. Her father, Thomas, had never been kind—never helped her mother, barely spoke to either of them, his words always sharp. When her mother, Margaret, fell ill, he packed his bags and left without a second glance.
At first, Emily didn’t realise what was happening—she thought it was just another business trip. But then he stopped in the doorway and said, “I’m leaving for good. This life isn’t for me, not with a sick wife. I need someone healthy. You’re grown—you’ll manage. I’ll send money by post.”
She thought he was joking—until the door slammed shut. Margaret just lay there, smiling.
“Mum, why are you happy? How will we manage?”
“We’ll manage, love. What good did he ever do us?” Her voice was calm. “Go fetch William from next door. Tell him I asked for him.”
Emily had always noticed the way William looked at her mother—gentle, warm. Her father had never looked at Margaret like that. William always smiled, complimented her, brought flowers on her birthday—when Thomas wasn’t around. Emily noticed, but never asked.
Once, when she was thirteen, she overheard him confess, “Margaret, I’ll always love you. No matter what happens, remember that.”
Her mother had laughed softly. “Oh, William, I’m bound to another. Best not say such things.”
But Emily understood. William loved her mother—respectfully, quietly. And when Thomas left, she went straight to him.
“William, Mum asked for you.”
“What about your father? He won’t like it.”
“He’s gone. Left us last night. Said he wasn’t coming back.”
William didn’t hesitate. He came, sat by Margaret’s side, talked for hours. Then he stayed—for good. It felt as if he’d always been there.
With him, life brightened. He cared for Margaret tenderly—hired doctors, drove her to appointments, and slowly, she recovered. The village gossiped, of course.
“Whoever heard of a neighbour nursing a married woman? No wonder her husband left. And now she’s dragged another man in.”
William ignored them, though it hurt. But Margaret blossomed—walking tall, arm in arm with him, happier than ever.
Their neighbour, Martha, once said, “Margaret, you’re glowing. William can’t take his eyes off you. Let them talk—they’ll forget soon enough.”
“I don’t care,” Margaret smiled. “Happiness isn’t meant to be hidden.”
The whispers faded—until Margaret fell pregnant.
“Old hag,” the women sneered. “Nearly forty and carrying on like this.”
But William and Margaret married, joyful. Emily was happy too—her mother well, a baby sister on the way. Little Sophie arrived, and their home brimmed with love.
Emily went to medical school, just as she’d dreamed. It was hard, but she loved it. Her parents thrived, Sophie grew.
Then, suddenly, William was gone. The night before, he’d hugged Emily and Sophie tightly. “Girls, if only you knew how much I love you—and your mother.”
He held them as if he knew. By morning, his heart had stopped. Margaret was shattered.
“Mum, you’re not alone. You have us. We’ll get through this,” Emily whispered, terrified her mother’s illness would return.
For a while, Margaret smiled again. But three months later, she was gone too—lost without William.
Emily returned to their house, raising Sophie alone. The girl never let her see her cry, but Emily knew. She lived for her sister now—walking her to school, attending parents’ evenings, proud when teachers praised her.
“Look at her, Mum,” she’d murmur to the sky. “You’d be so proud.”
Years passed. They visited the graves often, saving for a proper headstone. When Sophie finished school, Emily finally ordered it—a granite monument etched with their smiling faces, side by side.
One day, as they stood silently by the grave, an older woman approached.
“Did you know them?” Emily asked.
“No,” the woman said gently. “My mother’s buried nearby. I just admired the stone—it’s beautiful.”
Emily smiled. “We saved for years. I wanted them remembered properly. Their love deserved it.”
At last, peace settled in her heart. She’d done her duty.
Sophie would soon start university—and Emily, finally, could think of herself. For a year, a cardiologist named James had been courting her, proposing twice.
“I have to fulfil my dream first,” she’d tell him. “I had to honour them.”
Now, she could let herself love.
Because for Margaret and William, love had lasted more than a lifetime—it was eternal.
