**For Love**
“Excuse me, miss, could you tell me where Wellington Street is? I’ve been going in circles, and no one seems to know.”
A handsome bloke stood before Emily, a large black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“Is that your idea of a pickup line?” she teased.
“I’m William. And you?”
“Margaret,” she lied, smirking before turning to walk away. But the lad caught up with her.
“Honestly, I really am looking for the street. A mate invited me to his wedding, and I don’t know my way around town.”
Emily noticed then—his checked shirt, loose trousers (not the skinny kind everyone wore), and a proper travel bag. Clearly an out-of-towner.
“Keep straight down this road, turn right at the traffic lights into the lane—that’s Wellington Street,” she relented.
“Cheers.” William grinned, his face lighting up. “So, really—what’s your name?”
“What’s yours?”
“Mum’s a fan of Wordsworth, so she named me William. Could’ve been worse—maybe Byron!” He laughed, a rich, easy sound. Emily had never heard a lad laugh like that, so genuine.
“Dunno if my mum likes poetry, but she called me Emily.”
“Fancy coming to the wedding with me tomorrow? My mate’s getting hitched, and I don’t know a soul here.” He looked hopeful.
She hesitated. He seemed decent, earnest.
“Sorry, I’ve got an exam tomorrow. Need to revise.” She made to leave again.
“Give me your number, and I’ll go. How else will I tell you what time the wedding starts?”
“Did I say I’d go?” Emily raised an eyebrow.
“No, but… You’re a student, yeah? Let me guess—med school.”
“How’d you know?”
“Mum always says the kindest souls are teachers and doctors. I won’t leave till you give me your number. I’ll follow you home, stand in your garden, and shout your name.”
Emily sighed and recited her number.
“I’ll call!” he called after her.
William’s mum had wanted him to go to uni after school. But he’d missed the grades for a scholarship, and they couldn’t afford the fees. Like most lads, he’d rather play football than hit the books.
They lived in a small village, just him and his mum, who worked at the only school teaching English lit. Even the local clinic sent serious cases to the city.
William took a job at his dad’s old mate’s garage. Uni could wait till after the army. Girls liked him, but none had touched his heart. His dad had died in a fire—a builder who’d made a fine home for his family.
One evening, walking home, he’d seen smoke billowing from a cottage. That summer’s heatwave had brought endless wildfires. A woman ran to him, begging for help—she’d stepped out, left her son inside…
The flames were already licking the windows. His dad smashed a window and vanished in the fire. He found the boy quickly—lost to smoke but alive. He passed the child out, then the roof caved in.
Turned out the woman’s husband had come home drunk, locked the door, lit a fag in bed…
The next day, William called Emily. Asked if she’d passed her exam, reminded her about the wedding.
It was Saturday, no lectures, so she agreed. May was warm, cherry blossoms scattering like snow. When she saw him waiting, her breath caught.
After the wedding, he walked her home. They talked, kissed at her door.
“I’m leaving tomorrow. Come visit me. It’s gorgeous—the view from the church tower’s unreal. We’ve got our own house, built by my dad. The river splits the village in two.”
When his dad was alive, they’d fished at dawn—mist on the water, silence broken only by the splash of trout. “We caught perch, bream, even a pike once—this big!” He stretched his arms wide. “Well, nearly. When I was in the army, I dreamed of home every night…”
“Why not start uni part-time?” Emily asked.
“Mum said education shouldn’t be half-hearted. But I reckon she just wanted me out of the village. No jobs there. Visit after your exams. You’ll see—it’s paradise.”
They talked till dawn. When she shivered, he finally let her go.
On the coach next morning, he texted: *Miss you already. Waiting.*
Emily smiled over breakfast.
“Your boyfriend?” her mum asked.
“You saw us?”
“Of course. Who is he? Another student?”
“Yeah, engineering,” she lied.
She knew Mum wanted the best for her only daughter. A mechanic from some village wouldn’t cut it.
After that, they called for hours, Skype’d till late. One weekend, William stole a day to visit. The village was swarming with summer tourists—the garage was swamped. He left on the last bus.
“You promised to come,” he reminded her.
Exams over, Emily told her parents she was visiting a friend.
“Since when do you have mates out of town?” Mum frowned.
“Since now. It’s beautiful there—river, fishing.”
“Oh, fishing now?” Mum scoffed.
“Leave her be. She’s grown,” Dad cut in. “I wouldn’t mind a rod and some quiet myself.”
“Gotta go, thanks, Mum.” Emily kissed her cheek before the bickering could start.
Next morning, Dad drove her to the station.
“It’s not a friend, is it?”
“Don’t tell Mum. I’ll be fine.”
“Hope you know what you’re doing. Call me.”
“I will. Love you.”
William met her as promised. Her small hand disappeared in his as they walked to his house.
The village was stunning. Emily worried what his mum would think—she wasn’t his fiancée, just a guest.
She’d expected a cottage, but William led her to a two-story house. His dad had built it big—room for the future.
Emily stayed in a cosy room. His mum showed her round—hot water, shower, gas, but a stove too, just in case. A framed photo of William’s dad hung on the wall. The resemblance was uncanny.
They walked for hours, talking nonstop. That night, Emily lay awake, replaying every word, listening to the house’s quiet creaks—like sighs from its old bones.
William took days off work to help her settle. The garage was short-staffed—one mechanic had broken his wrist.
That day, he finished a car quickly and called the owner to collect it.
“Mate, bring it over. Can’t leave the wife—she’s expecting.”
“No bother.”
He changed to keep the seats clean and drove across the river.
The other bank had new houses behind high fences.
Teens always loitered by the river in summer—swimming, fishing, watching the water. William spotted a lad falling from the bridge. He braked to scold them—bridge-jumping was lethal. But the boys dragged him to a gap in the railings.
A kid had slipped through. William scanned the water—no sign of him. Without thinking, he dived in.
A cement slab lay below, jagged with rebar. William was lucky he hadn’t dived headfirst. A steel rod sliced his back. He saw the boy, tried to lift him—then white-hot pain shot through his spine.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed the boy up. The oldest teen grabbed the kid.
William’s abandoned car blocked the bridge. Another driver spotted the commotion and ran over.
They saved the boy.
William fought the current, arms only, legs numb. The stranger pulled him ashore. He was unconscious when the medics arrived.
The hospital could only shake their heads. They sent him to the city—but even there, no one could fix his spine.
“A vertebra’s shattered. We can’t operate here—risk damaging the nerves permanently. He needs London.”
William’s mum wept. She’d never afford it.
“Take him. I’ll get the money,” Emily said, then ran.
At home, Mum was furious. “I knew this would end badly—”
Emily ignored her, changed, and went to her dad’s office.
“Dad, I need to talk to you.” She told him everything.
“That’s a fortune. We don’t have that. And you barely know this lad. Even if we find the cash, he might never walk.”
“But how do we live if we don’t even try? He saved a child! His mum has no one else.”
Her dad sighed, called an old friend.
“Hi, John… Yeah, life’s good…” Small talk first. “Listen, I’m selling the holiday home. Need the money fast. You know the place… Yeah, the family’s fine… It’s life or death.”
An hour later, John arrived. They wired the funds.
“Dad, you’With time, they built a life together—filled with love, laughter, and the quiet strength of knowing they’d chosen each other against all odds.
