Driving back from the countryside, James was cruising down the motorway at a steady speed, lost in thought about his life. The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle had started, speckling the windscreen with raindrops. Cars whizzed past in the opposite lane.
He’d been away on work—James was a bailiff in a small town, and the trip was supposed to last three days, but they’d wrapped things up early. Instead of staying overnight, he decided to head home—partly because it was his wife Emily’s birthday. He’d bought her some new clothes and a bit of makeup, though he’d had to rely on the shop assistant’s advice—what did he know about that sort of thing?
He’d been driving all night, exhaustion creeping in, and now this relentless rain.
“Maybe I should cut through the next village,” he thought. “It’s shorter than sticking to the motorway. Sure, the road’s unpaved, but it’s nearly morning anyway.”
So he did. He and Emily had been married ten years, and their son Liam was already ten—she’d gotten pregnant right away, though he’d been born prematurely. No matter—Liam had turned out sharp as a tack, a proper little lad.
James was bone-tired, but home was only about ten miles away. The sky had lightened, but the rain had picked up. Then—thud. Something hit the bonnet. He slammed on the brakes, heart racing.
“Thank God I wasn’t speeding. Must’ve hit an animal or something—maybe from the woods nearby?” He jumped out.
A woman lay on the road, her umbrella tossed to the side. Panic seized him. He’d hit someone. Was she alive? He scooped her up and carried her to the car, easing her into the back seat.
“She’s alive—thankfully the speed wasn’t too high.” He turned to her. “How do you feel? Let’s get you to the hospital—there’s one just up ahead in the village.”
She clutched her leg. “No, I’m fine. Just a bruise, I think.”
“Who are you?” she asked, lifting her head.
James looked into her eyes—and froze. She stared back, just as stunned.
They gaped at each other before finally snapping out of it.
“Lucy?” he blurted.
“James?” she echoed.
“Well, this is a turn-up,” he said, grinning. “So this is where you’ve been. Only ten miles away all this time.”
“I can’t believe it’s you,” Lucy murmured, momentarily forgetting her injury.
“Yep, in the flesh. Trust me, it’s really me,” he said, his tone lighter now.
“Let’s at least get that leg checked. Point me to the doctor’s.”
She agreed, wincing slightly as she moved. The medical centre wasn’t far. The nurse examined her, asking her to put weight on the leg. Barely any pain.
“Just a bruise, Lucy,” the nurse said. “I can write you a sick note if you’d like time off.”
“No, no—I’ve got classes to teach. Honestly, I’m fine. James can drop me at school, right?” He nodded.
Lucy taught English and literature at the local school. She’d left early that morning to prep for exams.
“Come back in a few days if it worsens,” the nurse said.
“If it does, I will,” Lucy promised.
She limped slightly as they walked back to the car. James trailed behind, relieved it hadn’t been worse.
“I need to change—can’t teach like this. There’s still time,” she said.
“Of course. Show me where you live.”
Her house wasn’t far. She ducked inside and emerged minutes later in a fresh outfit, a light raincoat over her shoulders. The drizzle hadn’t let up. They hadn’t had much chance to talk.
“Lucy, meet me tonight? Somewhere here in the village?”
“Why? You’ve got a wife…”
“It’s been ten years. Just to catch up—if you’re free.” He hesitated, wondering if she had a husband who might object.
“You haven’t changed. Still as stubborn, just… lovelier. More confident.”
“Does your wife let you flirt like this?” Lucy asked, eyeing his wedding ring. Hers was absent—something he noticed immediately.
“Ah, come on, Lucy. It’s just the truth. Still as feisty as ever, I see.”
She laughed. “Fine. There’s a bench near the village entrance. Meet me there.”
They chuckled, both sensing that the old grudge that’d driven them apart was silly—long faded now. So much to ask, but where to start? No time now. Life had just thrown them back together.
Ten years ago, they’d both graduated—Lucy as a teacher, James as a lawyer. Their love had been deep, two years strong. They’d made plans, but couldn’t agree where to settle.
“Lucy, I’m going home. They’ve offered me a lead bailiff position. You’re my future wife—you’re coming with me,” he’d declared.
But Lucy wanted the city.
“No. I won’t live in some tiny town. After all these years, you’re still glued to that place,” she’d snapped.
One argument led to another. They’d stormed off, each too proud to apologise. Days turned to weeks, then months. Resentment festered, and eventually, they drifted apart.
A stupid, stubborn end.
James got home that morning, stepping into a house that smelled of breakfast and was slightly untidy. He peeked into the bedroom—and froze. There, in his bed, beside Emily, lay Jake from the next village. Both men knew each other well. Emily scrambled up, clutching the thin blanket.
“James! You’re early—I can explain, it’s not what you—” she stammered.
Jake, ever cocky, lounged lazily, though his smirk faded when James stepped closer.
“Gonna hit me, Mr. Bailiff?”
The words snapped James back. No point dirtying his hands. His marriage was over. Not a midlife crisis—just betrayal. He stormed out and drove to his mum’s place on the outskirts of town. Liam was there.
“How long has this been going on?” he wondered. Jake had helped fix their roof last summer, laid the patio tiles… handy bloke.
Liam spotted him first, darting outside.
“Dad! You’re back early!”
“Hey, mate,” James hugged him. “Finished up sooner than I thought.”
“Great! My bike’s busted—can you help? I tried fixing it myself.”
“Wow, you gave it a go? That’s my lad. We’ll sort it,” James promised.
His mum knew instantly something was wrong. The village had been whispering about Emily for ages—only James hadn’t heard. Now he’d come home early…
“Bet he walked in on Jake,” she thought, wiping a tear. “Sit, eat something.” But he refused, collapsing onto the bed in the spare room. The day had been too much. Oddly, he fell asleep straight away.
Later, he told his mum, “I’m heading to the next village. Got things to sort.”
He’d slept, eaten, even fixed Liam’s bike. Now he was driving to Lucy—his girl from the past. Still bright, beautiful, sharp as ever. He pulled up at the bench where they’d agreed to meet, but she wasn’t there. He waited. Soon, she appeared.
“James, come to mine. We’ll talk properly over tea.”
“Your husband…?”
“No husband. Never married.”
At her house, they talked—until a boy, about ten, burst in.
“Hi! Is that your car?” he beamed. “I’m Jamie. This is my mum!”
“Hello,” James said slowly, studying him. “I’m Uncle James.” The boy giggled.
James stared. The lad was his spitting image—no test needed. He looked at Lucy, who saw his realisation.
“This is… what I think?” he asked, stunned.
“Yes,” she said softly. Little Jamie looked between them, confused.
“Jamie, go play outside a bit longer. I’ll call you,” Lucy said.
“Lucy… why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know until after graduation—I saw a doctor. By then, we weren’t speaking. I didn’t want to force it on you. So I took the first teaching job far away… stayed ever since.”
Another shock in a day full of them. When James left that morning, Lucy had thought:
“If he comes back, I won’t let him go. I’ll tell him about Jamie. Fate doesn’t give us extras.”
Driving home to his mum’s, he felt adrift, like they were parting all over again. But he knew he’d return to Lucy. Even if she tried to send him away, he
