Dozing in the half-light of a lazy morning, Emily stretched beneath her duvet, savouring that dreamy space between sleep and wakefulness. Without opening her eyes, she smiled to herself.
*How perfect—today’s my day off. No rushing, no listening to patients’ complaints at the clinic, real or imagined.*
A glance at the clock confirmed she’d slept in, but she didn’t mind. Then her phone buzzed—a message. It was from James: *”Fancy joining me for fishing? You’re free today—we leave in an hour. Say yes, please!”*
Emily grinned, picturing James with his fishing rod, just like in their school days. Back then, during summer breaks, they’d disappear to the river for hours. James always caught something, and they’d cook it over a fire—well, *he* did. She’d never mastered it. But that fish stew? She swore nothing had ever tasted better.
They’d been childhood sweethearts, never imagining life would split them apart. Sarah, a classmate, had always hovered between them, but James brushed her off easily.
*”Not my type, Sarah,”* he’d say whenever she pressed him to walk home together.
*”We’ll see about that,”* she’d smirk, tossing a sly glance Emily’s way.
Emily would just roll her eyes. She *knew* James only had eyes for her.
After school, Emily left for medical school, her dream since she was little. James stayed in their small town, training as a mechanic—university wasn’t his thing. They kept in touch, calling and writing. She visited during holidays, while James stayed put in the close-knit community where everyone knew each other.
*”Don’t forget about me out there in the big city,”* he’d tease.
*”As if I could,”* she’d laugh. *”I miss you too. Wish I could visit more, but it’s a four-hour drive.”*
Summers were theirs. From dawn till dusk, they’d laugh in her garden, scroll through photos by the river, or splash about with friends who’d all come home for the break. Perfect days.
James’s birthday was in September, always a sore spot.
*”We can’t even celebrate together anymore,”* she’d sigh over the phone, sending fancy cards.
This year, he’d gone to a pub with mates—until Sarah showed up with a friend. She’d flunked school, now worked at a market stall selling fruit.
*”Look who’s here! Shame you’re all lads—let’s fix that,”* she’d purred, sliding beside James.
Out of politeness, he offered them a seat. They stayed till closing. Sarah sent her friend off, then clung to James’s arm.
*”You can’t leave me walking home alone, can you?”*
One thing led to another, and soon they were on her porch, Sarah pouring wine she’d clearly stashed earlier.
*”One more for your birthday!”*
James woke at dawn, head pounding, Sarah asleep beside him. His stomach lurched.
*Emily will find out. Sarah won’t stop until she tells her.*
He bolted, grabbing his jacket as Sarah watched, smirking.
*”Run all you like—you’re mine now.”*
He avoided her, but Sarah hunted him down—calling, cornering him, even turning up at his house. His mother answered.
*”Sarah? What brings you here? James is at college.”*
*”I’m pregnant,”* Sarah whispered, eyes glistening. *”He won’t talk to me.”*
James’s mother paled. *”That’s impossible.”*
*”Oh, it’s possible,”* Sarah said, spotting James through the window.
The truth came out. His mother insisted: *”You’ll marry her, James. You made your bed.”*
Trapped, he agreed. His mother wept; he couldn’t bear it.
Emily heard from a friend, then her mother confirmed it: James had married Sarah.
*”Then he’s dead to me,”* Emily sobbed in her dorm.
*”It happens,”* her flatmates murmured. *”Long distance is hard. You don’t know the full story.”*
She shut her heart away—until Anthony, a charming final-year student, melted her walls. He proposed; she accepted.
Anthony’s family was wealthy—his father ran a steelworks, securing him a clinic job with promises of a private practice. Their wedding was lavish, but Emily quickly realised her mistake. Within a year, she caught Anthony with a nurse in his office.
*”We’re done,”* she said that night.
*”Then quit the clinic,”* he sneered. *”Run back to your little town.”*
*”It’s not a town,”* she said calmly. *”But you’re right—I’m leaving.”*
Back home, her parents welcomed her without fuss.
*”No drama,”* Emily said. *”We weren’t right for each other.”*
She settled into the local clinic, life quiet—until she bumped into James.
Had he waited for her, or was it chance? Her breath caught as he appeared outside the shop.
They talked for hours in a café, sharing their divorces. Sarah’s child wasn’t his; he’d left town.
Emily jolted awake, sweat on her brow. Those memories had ambushed her. Without hesitation, she texted James: *”Yes to fishing.”*
Her mother frowned as she rushed breakfast.
*”Where are you off to?”*
*”Fishing. With James.”*
*”James? After all this time? Mrs. Wilkins saw you with him. Why’s he back?”*
*”Mum, what’s your problem with him?”*
*”He left you!”*
*”We were kids. Maybe it’s fate we’ve got another shot.”*
James waited outside. Her mother sighed, watching her go.
*”I just don’t want her hurt again.”*
The day was magic—James caught fish, cooked stew, and they laughed like teenagers. They reminisced, skirting talk of Sarah.
*”Not today,”* James said, pulling her close. Their lips met—a kiss years overdue.
*”Not here,”* Emily whispered, pressing a finger to his mouth.
He kissed her cheek. *”Bad timing.”*
A week later, at his flat (his mother away visiting family), they made love—tender, fierce, like they’d always belonged together.
At dawn, James nuzzled her. *”Guess I’ll have to marry you now.”*
They laughed, certain nothing could part them again.
