**”No man of your own, so you go after mine? Some friend you are. I never want to see your face in my house again,” Emily spat furiously.**
Stepping off the bus was the last thing Sophie wanted. She lived in a new development where public transport didn’t reach, and the walk from the stop was long—especially in this weather. At least she could stop by the shop. They’d promised a new supermarket nearby, but who knew when that would open? She’d pay for last night’s laziness—her fridge was nearly empty.
Sophie stepped onto the pavement, and before she could take two strides, a gust of wind ripped her hood back, flinging a strand of hair into her face along with a handful of icy snow. The wind seemed to blow from every direction at once, determined to blind her.
She yanked her hood lower, gripping it under her chin as she hunched forward like an old woman. Just before the shop, she nearly broke into a run, desperate for shelter.
The door clattered shut behind her, muffling the storm. She shook off her hood, smoothing her tangled hair, grabbed a basket, and moved between the aisles. She picked only essentials—enough for one bag. The rest could wait. She still had to walk home, one hand needed to keep her coat from flying open.
Ahead, a young woman pushed a pram, a little boy bundled like an astronaut gripping the handle. With one hand on the pram and the other clutching a basket, she moved slowly. No way around. Sophie turned down another aisle, grabbed milk, then headed for bread.
And there she was again—the same woman. Sophie ducked into the next aisle, but then a plush toy tumbled from the pram. She scooped it up.
“Excuse me—you dropped this!” she called.
The woman turned.
Sophie held it out—then froze. “Emily?”
“Sophie!” Emily beamed.
“I was just thinking, what kind of madwoman takes her kids out in this weather?” Sophie laughed.
“I live in this block. Ran out of milk and porridge. Tried to slip out, but Lily threw a fit—Josh couldn’t handle her. So here we are.”
Sophie bit back a question about Emily’s husband. Too nosy, too soon. Probably still at work.
She glanced at the boy, who was blankly eyeing biscuit packets.
“My little helper,” Emily said proudly.
“How old?”
“Six. Starts school next autumn.”
Josh tugged at Emily’s sleeve. “Can we go? I want to finish my cartoon.”
“In a minute,” Emily chided. “Sorry, Soph—you see how it is.” She fished out her phone. “Take my number. Call me sometime—kids are usually asleep by ten.”
As Emily headed for the till, Sophie called after her, “Wait—the toy!”
Emily murmured to Josh, who scampered over, snatched the pink rabbit, and darted back without a word.
*Who’d have thought Emily would have two kids? How does she manage? I’d never brave a storm like this,* Sophie mused in the checkout queue.
*That’s why you’ve got no husband or kids,* her inner voice chimed.
At home, Sophie fried eggs—too late for proper cooking. While the kettle boiled, she studied her new kitchen. She’d bought the flat six months ago and swelled with pride.
The living room was sparse—just a wardrobe, telly, and sofa—but the kitchen was fully fitted. A woman’s kingdom. Most of her time was spent here, though these days it was just quick meals eaten in front of the telly. But one day—a family. A husband. Kids. She’d be like Emily. Sophie sighed.
The kettle screeched. After dinner, she lingered at the window, watching car lights streak through the dark like Christmas lights. Squares of gold glowed in neighbouring flats—families gathered, sharing meals. Someone out there might be staring just like her, thinking the same thoughts.
Emily wouldn’t have time for that. Two kids. And she’d always sworn she’d have one—or none at all.
*”I’m not wasting my best years on ungrateful kids who’ll leave me to rot alone. Let others breed—I’m living my life,”* she’d declared in sixth form.
Sophie had argued kids were life’s purpose.
*”Then you have them,”* Emily shot back.
Sophie’s mum had raised her alone. Her dad had another family now. A sibling might’ve eased the loneliness. Funny how people craved what they never had.
Emily had two brothers—maybe that’s why she’d sworn off kids. Too much early babysitting.
Life had a way of flipping dreams upside down. Sophie washed up, half-watched the telly, and at ten-thirty, dialled Emily.
“Hey, it’s me. Did I catch you at a bad time?” she whispered.
“No, kids are down. Glad you called.” Emily saved her number. “So—how’s life?”
“Not much to tell. Single, just bought this place. Proud of that, at least.”
“Why?”
“Spent my whole life dreaming of escaping that cramped council flat. When Mum passed, I sold it straightaway—wanted no ghosts.”
“You were always driven,” Emily said. “But I meant—why *single*?”
They talked until a baby’s wail cut through.
“Lily’s up. Chat soon.” Emily hung up.
Sophie pictured the soft glow of a nightlight, Emily soothing her daughter while her husband—steady, reliable—watched telly in the next room. A pang of envy struck.
Then again… *She took the kids out in a blizzard. How reliable is he, really?* her voice nagged.
Over the next fortnight, Sophie resisted calling. Emily had a family; she didn’t want to intrude.
Then Emily invited her to Josh’s birthday.
“Need help setting up?” Sophie offered.
“Got my husband and Josh,” Emily said brightly.
Sophie arrived with a Lego set and sweets. Josh flung the door open and bolted.
“Who is it?” Emily called.
“Sophie!”
In the living room, Josh was glued to cartoons. She handed him the gift.
Emily sat at the bare kitchen table, eyes red. No cake. No guests.
“What happened?” Sophie asked.
“Thanks for the gift,” Emily said flatly.
“Where’s your husband?”
“In bloody Manchester,” she hissed.
“You argued.”
“He came home late—drunk. Said he ‘works all day,’ while I ‘do nothing.’ Try looking after two kids! Am I wrong?”
Sophie soothed her. They slapped together a party. Later, wine loosened Emily’s tongue.
“I’m exhausted. Laundry, cooking, nursery runs—on loop. And Mark? Useless. Thinks kids are *my* job. That’s all I’m good for.”
“And you wonder why I’m single,” Sophie joked.
“Don’t say that! Kids are joy. I couldn’t live without them.”
“Funny—sixth-form Emily swore she’d never have any.”
“Did I?” Emily laughed. Then—the front door slammed.
Mark leaned into the kitchen. “Tea on? Or something stronger?”
“You left on Josh’s birthday,” Emily said tightly.
“You kicked me out.” His eyes lingered on Sophie.
They drank. Mark’s gaze kept straying. Sophie excused herself.
“Mark’ll walk you,” Emily said.
“I’ve had a drink,” he protested.
“Then *walk*.”
Outside, Sophie scolded him. “Emily’s shattered. Help her.”
Mark sighed. “All she talks about is kids. At work—women dress up, smell nice. Sometimes I dread coming home.”
“She’ll have time for that later. Try pushing a pram in heels.”
“I work my arse off for them!”
At her door, Sophie thanked him. “Go apologise to Emily.”
“Cup of tea?” he pressed.
“No. She’s waiting.”
“What if I don’t go? Emily said you’re alone. If I’d met you first—” He shoved her into the hallway, kissing her violently.
She fought him off. “I’ll scream!”
“Go ahead. I’ve wanted to leave her for ages.”
She wrenched free, but he caught her.
“Help!”
A door flew open. A man yanked Mark off her, twisted his arm. Mark howled, spewing threats as he fled.
“Alright?” the stranger asked.
Sophie nodded, shaken.
Next day, Emily called, furious. **”No man of your own, so you go after mine?”**
Mark had twisted it. Sophie didn’t bother explaining.
Two months later, they crossed paths. Emily pretended not to see her.
“Emily!”
“What?”
“It wasn’t how Mark said.”
“I know. You’re not the first. But where do I go with two kids? Benefits won’t cover it.”
“You *know* he cheats?”
“You fought him off. OthersSophie hesitated, then softly replied, “When you’re ready to leave him, I’ll be there—just call.”
