Amber once more surveyed the cottage. Everything seemed in order—the girls’ bows were tied, Ethan’s face was clean, and Grandma Evelyn sat on the sofa, dressed for the occasion. Yesterday, Ethan had called, saying he’d arrive today with a surprise.
She had sprinted home from the village hall—where the only phone worked—her heart racing. Months had passed since he’d left to work in the city, leaving her with the children in this remote village.
When he left, Amber had wept.
“Eth, how can a family live like this? You in the city, us with the kids here, alone?”
“Nonsense, you’re just being dramatic. You know the roof is beyond repair, the girls need school supplies, and there’s no work here.”
“I know, love, but it just feels wrong. Can’t we all come?”
He’d shrugged her off.
“Amber, you’re being absurd. It’s cheaper for me to work alone. If we all move, every penny I earn would go to rent. You’re not even city-savvy!”
She’d agreed, though her heart ached. The money was vital. They’d stay in the village; she had a part-time job. Ethan went, and she sent him off with a heavy heart.
A month later, the first transfer arrived. Amber wore her best dress to the post office, determined to silence the gossips. Let them see the money came. That Ethan hadn’t abandoned them. She arrived after the pensioners, so they’d all get a look.
They did. They sighed, eyed her with envy. To Amber, it felt like judgment. Now, his return brought another surprise. He’d called last night, cryptic about “something special.” He was coming back, and that was all that mattered. She’d lit the brazier for a bath, just in case. The kids were at Grandma’s.
Evelyn mocked her at the mirror.
“Making a spectacle of yourself? Typical. That wayward son returns!”
“Evelyn, please. Ethan’s a good man. He’s trying to provide.”
“Oh, he’s a good man, all right. Just not your good man, I’d wager.”
Amber exhaled. Evelyn had her points. Ethan had been lazy at the warehouse, only opening the door when necessary. Yet he’d changed—gone for the family.
“Ethan’s back!”
Amber adjusted her reflection. The neighbors leaned from their fences. She stepped out, and there he stood… and the surprise. A woman on his arm—tall, with ginger hair and polished nails. Her blood ran cold.
“Hello, Amber.”
“Hello, Ethan. What is this?”
He flinched.
“This is Chloe. I’ll… I’ll be marrying her.”
Amber felt the world tilt.
“Chloe—how dare you!” Evelyn spat, storming out. “Your son’s not welcome here!”
“Mother, enough!”
The crowd growled. “Right move, Evelyn! No good deed was he!”
Ethan stood paralyzed as Chloe clutched his arm.
“Ethan, can we not sell the house? You said it was yours!”
Amber went numb. The cottage was Ethan’s, inherited before their marriage. Evelyn had set it up as a wedding gift.
He fled, Chloe tripping over her heels behind him. Amber crumpled inside, the children gathering.
“Mom, don’t cry.”
But it got worse.
A sleek car stopped outside. A man stepped out, sharp-suited. A young man beside him.
“Amber Haversham?”
“Yes.”
“You must vacate the property. The house is sold. Here are the documents.”
The neighbors erupted.
“Ethan sold the house?!”
“Get out of here!”
The man waved papers. The local constable arrived, calming the crowd. The documents were legal, the house Ethan’s. Tomorrow, the new family would move in.
Amber stood, clutching a list of furniture to stay. Evelyn, tearful, offered her home: “Stay with me, love. Mine’s a big house. We’ll sort this.”
They moved, the villagers helping in silence. A year passed.
“Look at the girls, Amber! Such stars!”
Amber smiled, clutching the trophies from the girls’ first school year. Evelyn and another neighbor, Margaret, sat at the table, sipping tea. They’d become a family, the older women doting on the children.
Evelyn had wept, kneeling at Ethan’s doorstep. “Forgive me. I’ll leave if you ask.”
“idiot,” Amber laughed, hugging her. “You’re family now, you old bat.”
Fedor ran in. “Mom! He’s back!”
Amber’s chest tightened. Ethan, with a suitcase.
“Chloe dumped him,” the villagers whispered. “He’s broke, back to beg.”
Amber crossed her arms. Around them, neighbors gathered.
“What do you want, Ethan?”
“He’s the girls’ father,” he pleaded. “Let me in. I’m starving.”
“Oh, you’re starving? How kind.”
He flinched. “At least feed me.”
“Why? Where’s the food you brought the kids?”
“I’m struggling—give me a chance.”
The crowd jeered.
Amber smirked. She walked to the shed, grabbed a wrench.
“Run,” the villagers gasped.
He did, trip over his suitcase, and Amber struck—three times.
“Get out,” she growled, slamming the door.
Inside, she hugged the family. “Come on, we’ve got cake to cut. Let’s give the gossips something *real* to talk about.”
The door closed, sealing a family that finally felt whole.
