**Adapted Story:**
*“No man of your own, so you go after someone else’s? Some friend you are. I never want to see you in my house again,” Sarah spat, her voice burning with fury.*
Sonia didn’t want to get off the bus. She lived in one of those new housing estates where public transport hadn’t quite caught up yet. The walk from the stop was long, and in this weather—blustery and bitter—it felt even longer. Well, at least she could stop at the shop. The new supermarket promised to open soon, but who knew when *that* would happen? Now she had to pay for yesterday’s laziness—her fridge was nearly empty.
The moment Sonia stepped off the bus, a gust of wind ripped her hood back, slapping her face with a strand of hair and a handful of icy snowflakes. The wind seemed to swirl from every direction at once, determined to blind her.
She yanked her hood forward, gripping it under her chin as she hunched over like an old woman. By the time she reached the store, she nearly broke into a run, desperate to escape the biting cold.
Finally, the door swung shut behind her, muffling the howling wind. She shook out her tangled hair, grabbed a basket, and wound her way through the aisles, picking only essentials—just enough to fit in one bag. The rest could wait. She still had to walk home, and one hand had to stay free—her hood wouldn’t stay put otherwise.
Ahead of her, a young woman pushed a pram, a little boy bundled in a puffy coat clinging to it like a miniature astronaut. Balancing a basket in one hand, she moved slowly. Sonia ducked down a different aisle. She grabbed a bottle of milk, then headed for the bread section—only to find the same woman blocking her path again.
Just as Sonia turned to leave, a tiny stuffed toy tumbled from the pram. She picked it up.
“Excuse me! You dropped this!” she called.
The woman stopped, turning. Sonia held out the toy—and froze.
“Sarah?” she gasped, stunned.
“Sonia!” Sarah’s face lit up. “What are the odds?”
“I was just thinking—what kind of madwoman takes her kids out in this weather?” Sonia laughed.
“We live in the flats just there,” Sarah sighed. “Ran out of milk and cereal. Thought I’d nip out quickly, but Ellie threw a fit—Ben can’t handle her alone.”
The question about Sarah’s husband hovered on Sonia’s tongue, but she bit it back. Too soon to pry. Probably still at work.
She glanced at the boy, who stared blankly at a shelf of biscuits.
“My little helper,” Sarah said, ruffling his hair.
“How old is he?”
“Six. Starting school next autumn.”
“Mum, I wanna go home,” Ben whined, tugging her sleeve. “I want to finish my cartoon.”
“Patience,” Sarah scolded. “Sorry, Sonia—never a moment to myself. Here, take my number. Call me sometime—once the kids are in bed.”
They parted ways at the till, Sarah chiding Ben for not saying thank you for the toy.
As Sonia queued, her thoughts raced. *Never imagined Sarah with two kids. How does she manage? I wouldn’t dare brave a storm just for groceries.*
Her own reflection mocked her: *That’s why you’re alone.*
At home, Sonia scrambled eggs—too late for a proper meal. As the kettle boiled, she admired her kitchen. She’d bought the flat six months ago, her pride and joy. The living room was still bare—just a sofa, telly, and a wardrobe—but the kitchen? Perfect.
She ate distractedly, watching car lights streak through the darkness outside, like distant Christmas lights. Somewhere behind those glowing windows, families gathered, sharing meals. Sarah probably had no time for such stillness—two kids to wrangle.
Memories surfaced—Sarah, at eighteen, scoffing: *“Why waste my best years on kids? Let others do the breeding.”*
Sonia had argued, insisting children gave life meaning.
*“You have them, then,”* Sarah had shot back.
Now, irony laughed in her face.
She washed up, lost in thought. At half ten, she dialled Sarah’s number.
“Did I wake you?” she whispered.
“No, the kids are down. So—tell me everything.”
“Nothing to tell. Single, new flat—living the dream.”
“Why single?” Sarah pressed.
They talked until a baby’s wail cut through.
“Ellie’s up. Call again soon,” Sarah said, hanging up.
Sonia pictured her—soft lamplight, soothing cries, a husband lounging in the next room. A pang of envy twisted in her chest.
*Or maybe not.* Her inner voice sneered. *If he’s such a rock, why was she dragging kids through a blizzard?*
—
Two weeks later, Sarah invited Sonia to Ben’s birthday.
“Need help setting up?” Sonia offered.
“Nah, I’ve got my husband.” Sarah’s smile warmed the words.
Sonia arrived gift in hand—a Lego set and chocolates. Ben answered the door, then bolted.
Inside, Sarah sat at an empty table, eyes red-rimmed.
“Where’s the party?” Sonia asked gently.
“Gone. Like him.” Sarah’s voice was hollow.
“Fight?”
“He came home late. Drunk. Said he ‘deserves rest’—like I don’t.” Her knuckles whitened around her mug.
They rallied—set out cake, sang for Ben. After bedtime, wine loosened Sarah’s tongue.
“I’m exhausted. Cooking, cleaning, school runs—round and round. And Mark? Useless.”
Sonia smirked. “And you wonder why I’m single.”
“No—kids are everything. Don’t listen to me,” Sarah backtracked. “Just angry.”
The front door slammed. Mark strode in, eyeing Sonia.
“Tea?” Sarah asked flatly.
“Something stronger.” He grinned.
Sonia left soon after, refusing Mark’s offer to walk her—but Sarah insisted.
Outside, Mark’s complaints spilled out.
“She only talks about the kids. At work, women dress up—perfume, heels…”
Sonia stiffened. “She’s busy raising *your* children.”
At her doorstep, he cornered her.
“Invite me up.”
She shoved him back. “You’re married to my *friend*—”
He grabbed her, crushing his mouth to hers. She screamed—
A door flew open. A neighbour yanked Mark off, twisting his arm until he fled, cursing.
—
Next day, Sarah’s call came.
“Stay away from my husband,” she hissed, then hung up.
Mark had twisted the story.
Two months later, they crossed paths on the street. Sarah pushed Ellie’s pram, eyes averted.
“Sarah!” Sonia called.
“What?”
“That night—it wasn’t what Mark said.”
“I know. You’re not the first.” Sarah’s voice was dull. “But where do I go with two kids?”
Sonia clenched her fists. “You’re staying with a cheater?”
Sarah’s laugh was brittle. “Easy for you to judge—single, free.”
“Actually… I’m engaged.”
Sarah’s gaze flickered—then she walked away.
At home, her rescuer—now fiancé—met her at the door.
“You’re late,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.
Sonia smiled. Funny how fate worked. If not for that awful night, she’d still be alone.
As for Sarah? Maybe one day, she’d find her way out too.
