The Broken Wings of Love: When the Past Comes Knocking
Emily returned home earlier than usual. The project she had poured her heart into was finally complete, and she decided to treat herself and her husband, Edward. She stopped by the supermarket, bought his favourite treats—cheese, fruit, seafood—and hummed softly as she climbed the stairs.
“Edward, are you home?” she called, spotting his shoes and coat in the hallway.
Silence. No television, no footsteps, no familiar, “Oh, you’re back! What did you bring?”
Emily stiffened. Setting the bags down, she wandered through the flat. Edward’s belongings were strewn about—shirts, socks, a belt. She finally found him in the bedroom, standing with his back to her by the open wardrobe, a suitcase in one hand, shirts in the other.
“There you are! I’ll make dinner,” she said cheerfully, though her voice wavered. “Off on another business trip?”
Edward turned. His face was unnervingly calm. He took her hands.
“Em, go to the kitchen. Start cooking. I’ll join you soon. There’s something I need to explain.”
Emily didn’t understand. But she obeyed.
In the kitchen, her hands shook. She lit the oven, began preparing Edward’s favourite roasted fish, sliced fresh salad, arranged the cheese. She almost convinced herself it was nothing. “I’m imagining things again,” she soothed her racing heart.
But deep down, storm clouds gathered.
Twenty minutes passed. Still silence from the bedroom. She opened the window—warm air rushed in. Then, almost soundlessly, Edward appeared behind her. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Dinner’s ready,” she murmured, preparing to turn. But he held her tighter.
“Emily… You’ve always been clever. Understanding. I hope you’ll understand now. I’m leaving.”
Time froze.
“It’s beyond me… I’m sorry.”
He had wavered for months, torn between past and present. But today, the decision was final.
“You’re wonderful. Kind. Brilliant. But I don’t love you. Maybe I did once. Or thought I did…”
Abruptly, he pulled away, grabbed his suitcase, and fled, leaving Emily stunned. Behind her, the meal she’d prepared with love grew cold.
She stood there—empty-eyed, swallowed by silence.
That night, she didn’t sleep. She wept, muffled sobs into her pillow, stared at the ceiling. At dawn, just as exhaustion claimed her, the doorbell rang.
Edward stood there, unchanged from when he’d left. Beside him, a slender blonde with icy blue eyes.
“This is Lucy,” he said. “Remember, I told you about my first love?”
Oh, she remembered. It was after Lucy that he’d been shattered. After Lucy’s betrayal, Emily had picked up the pieces when they first met in the supermarket car park. He’d nearly crashed into her car.
She’d taken him into her life, given him care, tenderness, a home. And he… had returned to the one who’d abandoned him.
“We met again,” Edward continued. “Lucy’s divorced now. We reconnected. All those business trips… I was with her.”
“Why are you here?”
“To tell you myself, not let you hear it from others. Lucy wanted to thank you. For helping me back then.” Lucy gave a silent nod.
“You want me to be happy, don’t you?” Edward searched her eyes.
Emily shut the door without a word.
“How? How is she better than me?” she sobbed into her friend Charlotte’s arms. “Yes, she’s striking. Gorgeous. But she betrayed him! Left him! And now he forgives her?”
Charlotte bit back the words, “I warned you. Never love a man still haunted by his past.” Instead, she stroked Emily’s shoulder and whispered,
“It will pass. You’ll be happy too. I promise.”
“But I already found mine. He was my prince…”
For weeks, Emily barely left the flat. When she returned to work, she moved like a ghost, deaf to whispers behind her. Hollow.
“This can’t go on,” Charlotte declared months later. “Pack a bag. We’re going to the coast.”
Emily resisted. Stared at her phone, photos of Edward and Lucy, Lucy’s rounded belly.
“They’re having a baby, Charlotte… They’re happy.”
“And you will be too! But not if you keep looking backward!”
Slowly, things changed. Emily revived. Smiled again. Opened her heart to a kind colleague who’d long admired her. And then—a wedding.
Charlotte, now round with child, licked her third scoop of ice cream in the bridal salon while Emily tried on dresses.
“You’ll be the most beautiful bride!” she laughed. “You’ll see—everything will be all right.”
But fate loves irony.
When Emily returned home, Edward sat at her door. A three-year-old girl in his arms.
“My daughter, Sophie. Lucy left us. Said she wanted a fresh start… without us.”
“And you came… to me?” Emily’s voice trembled.
“I’ve nowhere else to go. Please…”
“I’m getting married in four days, Edward.”
He nodded. Lowered his gaze.
“I understand. But I… I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to be a father.”
Emily looked at the sleeping girl. Small fingers curled beneath her cheek.
“I’ll help where I can. But between us—it’s over. For good.”
The past may return uninvited. But it’s our choice whether to let it back in.
