It’s all because of you…
July’s heat was unbearable, the air thick with humidity and dust. Emily breathed heavily, her nostrils flaring. Her heart pounded in her chest, aching for rest and cool relief.
Her mother-in-law’s birthday was on Saturday, and she and her husband were going to the countryside. Emily missed her son terribly, but he was happier there than in the city. She pictured herself sitting under the shade of sprawling apple trees, sipping cool water from a spring, breathing clean air… But Saturday was still days away. The heat mocked her, relentless. They’d waited for summer, dreamed of sunshine—well, here it was, and no one had the right to complain.
Rush-hour buses were packed with sweaty, sticky bodies, the cramped space like a ticking bomb—just one spark, and the tension would explode. Walking was just as exhausting, but at least she could duck into shops, cooling off under air conditioning before braving the next stretch home.
The shopping centre loomed ahead, and Emily quickened her pace, eager to reach the chilled air inside. Finally stepping through the doors, she inhaled deeply. Her heart steadied gratefully.
She wandered slowly between the shops, occasionally stopping to browse, searching for the perfect gift. Her mother-in-law always insisted she didn’t need presents—just their company. But Emily had seen the flicker of delight in her eyes when given something unique.
Finding nothing, she turned toward the exit. A small open stall caught her eye, selling everything from pens and hair clips to gold jewellery. Emily lingered, delaying the return to the scorching streets. Her gaze skimmed over costume jewellery before settling on an unusual vase with a long, narrow neck, its surface a mosaic of muted colours. She’d never seen anything like it.
“Could I see that?” she asked the young girl behind the counter.
The vase was surprisingly heavy, made of metal, its surface segmented by thick wire into asymmetrical cells filled with softly coloured enamel. It looked antique, standing out among the cheap trinkets.
“How much?” Emily asked.
The price made her eyes widen.
“It’s handmade. One of a kind,” the girl said proudly.
“Is it part of a collection? Where’s it from?”
“Made by a disabled man. Beautiful, but hardly anyone buys them—too expensive.”
“I’ll take it,” Emily blurted on impulse. She imagined a single rose in its slender neck, how elegant it would look. Her mother-in-law loved unusual things—she’d appreciate it.
“Could you wrap it nicely?”
“I’ll find something,” the girl said, rummaging beneath the counter.
As she waited, Emily idly scanned the trinkets on display. A woman approached the stall, her face pale and worn, though the heat left many looking that way.
“Hello, Sarah. Someone bought the vase?”
“Yes.” The girl straightened, flicking a glance at Emily. The woman didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll transfer the money when I’m free,” the girl said.
“Alright. I’ll bring more tomorrow, then.” With a nod, the woman walked away.
Emily frowned, struggling to place her. Not just familiar—she *knew* her. Something tugged at her memory. *Charlotte… That was Charlotte!*
“Will this do?” The girl slid a beautifully wrapped parcel with a red bow across the counter. “That’ll be an extra two quid.”
Emily tapped her card, grabbed the gift, and without waiting for the receipt, hurried after the woman.
Charlotte walked slowly, head down as if solving some complex problem in her mind.
“Charlotte!” Emily called.
The woman stopped, turned. For a moment, they just stared.
“Don’t you recognize me? It’s Emily.”
“Of course I do,” Charlotte said flatly, no joy in her voice. “You haven’t changed. Unlike me.” She smirked. “You bought the vase?” She nodded at the parcel in Emily’s hands.
“Yes. It’s beautiful. My mother-in-law’s birthday is on Saturday—thought it’d make a good gift. The girl said a disabled man makes them.”
“My husband,” Charlotte replied.
They walked side by side, Emily matching her slow steps.
“I thought it was antique. Is your husband an artist?”
“Among other things. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Where’ve you been? Though you always were in your own world. It’s Alex who makes them.”
“Alex? But the girl said…”
“He *is* disabled. After the accident, he couldn’t walk. Never will. At least he earns something. We’ve got to live. Let’s grab a cuppa—I can’t face the heat yet.”
They slipped into a café near the exit, taking the only free table by the door. A waitress handed them menus.
“Earl Grey and vanilla ice cream for two, please,” Charlotte ordered.
As the waitress left, Charlotte exhaled. “Funny, I’ve been thinking about you lately. Then you walk in buying Alex’s vase.”
“You recognized me? Why didn’t you say something?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t talk to many people. Nothing to brag about. You, though—look at you, spending on pretty trinkets. Husband doing well?” Her tone was sharp.
“It’s not a trinket. It’s beautiful.”
“Ugh, I’m sick of beautiful things. Our flat’s a workshop—he’s always sculpting, carving, painting. Can’t breathe in there. But fine, better than drinking. After the accident, some bloke in hospital taught him. At first, it was rubbish. Now? At least we’ve got something.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Don’t pity me. It’s all because of *you*.” Charlotte’s glare was venomous.
“What do you mean?”
“Still naive. I used to think you faked it. Then I realized—you’re one of those rare people who only see good. Girls used to throw themselves at Alex. He chose *you*.”
She looked away. “I blame you, but it’s my fault. I was jealous. Thought, ‘Who is she? Nothing special, and she’s got him.’ So I made sure he wouldn’t be yours.”
Emily stared.
“Remember when you went home that weekend? He came to the dorm. I got him drunk, took him to bed. Then I got pregnant. Lost the baby.”
She laughed bitterly. “Stole him from you, but it didn’t make me happy. No love, no kids. Karma, eh?”
The tea cooled, the ice cream melted, untouched. Charlotte needed to confess; Emily was too stunned to speak.
“If he’d married you, maybe that accident never happens. I’d have found some ordinary bloke, had kids, been happy. But no.” She exhaled. “At first, I was glad. He was *mine*. Depended on me. At least he couldn’t cheat.”
Emily reached for Charlotte’s hand. She jerked away.
“Don’t play saint. I don’t want your pity. He’s *mine*.”
“Charlotte, if you need help—my husband’s a doctor—”
Charlotte stood abruptly, chair screeching. Heads turned.
“Live your life. Stay out of mine. Or—come see what happened to the man whose voice used to give you chills. Maybe I’ll let you have him back. You’d make a good nurse.”
“Why are you like this?”
“Just *leave*.” Charlotte stormed out.
Emily sat frozen, then paid for the untouched tea and melting ice cream, nearly forgetting the gift.
The walk home blurred. Memories of university flooded back—her and Charlotte sharing a dorm, Alex with his guitar…
*”Still studying? Come on, Maggie and Lisa have Alex over. He sings like an angel. Should be on stage, not studying chemistry.”*
*”Doesn’t mean he can’t do both,”* Emily had said.
*”Oh, you’re clueless. Just come—but don’t get ideas. Every girl’s in love with him.”*
She’d worn jeans and a thin black jumper, hair in a ponytail. No makeup—her strict mother’s doing. At the dorm, Alex sang, girls swooning. When he noticed Emily, he played just for her.
She fell hard.
He asked her out. Over cake, she barely ate, too nervous.
Then, one day, he visited when Charlotte was gone. She’d fried potatoes.
*”Want some?”*
*”God, yes.”* He ate almost all of it. *”You can cook too? Smart, gorgeous, domestic—wife material. Where do they make girls like you?”*
*”Birmingham,”* she’d mumbled.
Charlotte returned, furious. *”What’s this? ‘So tasty’? ‘See you tomorrow’? Don’t think potatoes will keep him.”*
*”I’m not trying to keep him.”*
*”Right. Well, let me teach you about men.”*
*”I’ll figure it out.”*
TheYears later, as Emily placed another of Alex’s vases on her shelf, she wondered if some paths were never meant to be crossed—only regretted.
