It was all because of you…
The July heat was unbearable—the air thick, heavy with humidity and dust. Emily took slow, labored breaths, her heart pounding under the strain, begging for rest and relief.
Her mother-in-law’s birthday was this Saturday, and she and her husband were heading to the countryside. Emily missed her son terribly, but the fresh air was good for him. She pictured herself beneath the shade of sprawling oak trees, sipping cool spring water, breathing deeply—but Saturday was still days away.
The heat mocked them, relentless. Hadn’t they longed for summer? Dreamed of sunshine? Well, here it was, and now they had no right to complain.
The evening buses were packed with sweaty, sticky bodies, the air inside like a powder keg—one spark, and tension might explode. Walking was no better, but at least she could duck into shops to cool down under the air conditioning, gathering strength for the next stretch home.
Up ahead, the shopping centre came into view, and Emily quickened her pace, desperate for the chill of conditioned air. At last, she stepped inside, breathing in the coolness. Her pulse steadied gratefully.
She wandered past shops, glancing at displays, searching for the perfect gift for her mother-in-law. The woman always insisted she didn’t need presents, that her company was enough. But Emily had seen the pleasure in her eyes when given something unique.
Finding nothing, she turned toward the exit. A small kiosk stood in her path, selling trinkets—pens, hair clips, even gold-plated jewellery. Emily paused, lingering in the cool air before stepping back into the sweltering street. Then she spotted it—a long-necked vase, its surface inlaid with what looked like colourful mosaic. She had never seen anything like it.
“Could you show me?” she asked the young salesgirl.
The vase was heavier than expected, made of metal with thick, swirling wire dividing its surface into uneven cells, each filled with muted enamel. It looked ancient, out of place among the gaudy knick-knacks.
“How much?”
The price made her blink.
“Handmade. One of a kind,” the girl said proudly.
“From a collection? Where is it from?”
“Made by a disabled artist. Beautiful work, but hardly anyone buys—too expensive.”
“I’ll take it,” Emily said on impulse. She imagined a single long-stemmed rose inside, how it would elevate any room. Her mother-in-law would appreciate it—she loved the unusual.
“Could you wrap it nicely?”
The girl rummaged beneath the counter. As Emily waited, she idly studied the display.
A woman approached—pale, worn down, though the heat had left many looking the same.
“Hello, Ann. They bought the vase, then?”
“Yes,” the girl said, glancing at Emily. The woman didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll transfer the money once I’m free,” the girl added.
“Good. I’ll bring more tomorrow.” The woman turned to leave.
Emily frowned. She *knew* her—not just in passing, but intimately. Something nagged at her memory. *Lily.* It *was* Lily!
“Is this alright?” The girl held up the vase, now wrapped in crimson ribbon.
“Lovely.” Emily tapped her card, snatched the parcel, and hurried after the woman before the receipt even printed.
Lily walked slowly, head down, as if lost in thought.
“Lily!”
The woman stopped. For a moment, they simply stared.
“You don’t remember me? I’m Emily.”
“Of course I remember,” Lily said flatly. “You haven’t changed. Not like me.” She nodded at the parcel. “You bought the vase?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful. My mother-in-law’s birthday is Saturday. The girl said a disabled man made it.”
“My husband,” Lily answered.
They walked side by side, Emily matching Lily’s slow pace.
“I thought it was antique. Is he an artist?”
“Among other things. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Where have you *been*? But you were always in your own world.” She sighed. “It’s Alec’s work.”
“Alec? The girl said—”
“He *is* disabled. After the accident, he couldn’t walk. Never will again. At least this pays for bread. We have to live.” She paused. “Let’s sit. I’m not ready to face the heat.”
They took a table by the door, the last one free. The waitress handed them menus.
“Green tea and vanilla ice cream for two,” Lily ordered.
As the waitress left, Lily stared past Emily. “Funny—I was just thinking about you. I think of you often these days. And here you are, buying Alec’s vase.”
“You recognised me? Why not speak?”
Lily shrugged. “I don’t talk to many people. Nothing to brag about. But you—you’re doing well, spending money on pretty rubbish. Husband earns loads, does he?”
“It’s not rubbish.”
“I’m sick of *pretty things.* Our flat’s a workshop. He tinkers all day—sculpting, carving, painting. I can’t breathe in there. Cleaning is pointless. But better than drink. After the accident, a man in hospital taught him. At first, it was awful. Now it’s… tolerable. Brings in *something.*”
Emily hesitated. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Worse than you think. I’m a maid, nurse, masseuse, cook—all rolled into one. Some days, I don’t want to live. And it’s all because of you.” She glared.
“Me? How?”
“That naivety. Still the same. I used to think you faked it—that sweet act. But you really *do* see the best in everything. Girls swooned over Alec, but he chose *you.*”
She exhaled sharply. “I blamed you, but it’s my own fault. I envied you. Thought, *Who is she to land a man like that?* So I made sure he wouldn’t be yours.”
Emily frowned.
“You didn’t know? Remember when you went home to visit your parents? He came to the dorm. I made my move. Got him drunk. Put him in my bed. Then I fell pregnant. And that didn’t even work—the baby was stillborn.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I stole him from you, and what do I have? No love. No children. Just punishment.”
Emily sat frozen as the tea cooled and the ice cream melted. Lily needed to confess; Emily could only listen in shock.
“If I hadn’t interfered—if he’d married *you*—the accident might never have happened. I’d have found some ordinary bloke, had babies, been happy. But now? He’s mine. Needs nothing, belongs to no one else.”
Emily reached for Lily’s hand. Lily jerked back.
“No pity. *He’s mine.*”
“Lily, if there’s anything I can do… My husband’s a doctor—”
Lily stood abruptly, chair screeching. Heads turned.
“Live your life. Stay out of ours.” She paused. “Or come see what’s left of the man whose voice used to make you shiver. I could even *give* him back, for old times’ sake. You’d make a good nurse.”
Emily watched her leave, then paid for the untouched tea and forgotten ice cream.
She walked home in a daze, barely noticing the heat, remembering those university days when they’d shared a dorm room.
***
The vase was a hit with her mother-in-law. She turned it in her hands, marveling. But Emily couldn’t shake the encounter.
On Monday, she returned to the kiosk.
“You sold me a vase last week. Could I have the artist’s details? I’d like to order more. You send him the money, don’t you? I know they need it.”
The girl hesitated. “I promised.”
“Then—here’s my number. When that woman brings more pieces, call me. I’ll buy them. Just—don’t tell her it’s me.”
The girl shrugged. “Fine by me. We take a cut either way.”
Emily began collecting Alec’s work—vases, jugs, gifting them to friends. She told her husband it was a university friend’s disabled husband, too proud for charity. He humored her.
In truth, she pitied them both. If Lily hadn’t stolen Alec, the accident might never have happened. But that was another life—one she couldn’t imagine.
She loved her husband, adored her son, wouldn’t trade her world for anything.
*Never steal what isn’t yours. You never know if it’ll fit—or if you’ll spend the rest of your days wishing you’d left it be.*
