“You don’t have a 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!” snapped Emma.
Stepping off the bus was the last thing Olivia wanted. She lived in a newly built estate where public transport hadn’t yet reached. The walk home from the stop was long—especially in this weather. At least she could stop by the shop on the way. The new supermarket in the next neighborhood had promised to open soon, but who knew when that would be? She’d have to pay for yesterday’s laziness—her fridge was nearly empty.
Olivia stepped out of the bus and barely took two steps before a gust of wind tore her hood back, flinging a strand of hair and a handful of icy sleet into her face. The wind seemed to blow from every direction at once, determined to blind her.
She yanked her hood lower, hunching forward like an old woman as she trudged through the storm. Just before the shop, she nearly broke into a run, desperate to escape the bitter cold.
Finally, the door swung shut behind her, and the relative quiet of the supermarket wrapped around her. She shook out her wind-tossed hair and grabbed a basket, weaving between the aisles. She stuck to essentials—just enough to fit in one bag. The rest could wait till tomorrow. She still had to walk home, and one hand needed to stay free to keep her hood from flying off.
Up ahead, a young woman pushed a pram, a little boy bundled in a thick winter coat—like a tiny astronaut—clinging to the handle. The woman balanced a basket in one hand while steering the pram with the other. Moving too slowly to overtake, Olivia ducked into another aisle. She grabbed a bottle of milk and headed for the bakery section.
But there she was again—the same woman. Olivia was about to slip down another aisle when a small stuffed toy tumbled from the pram. She picked it up.
“Wait! You dropped this!” she called.
The woman stopped and turned.
Olivia held out the toy—then froze. She knew that face. “Emma!” she gasped, equal parts delighted and stunned.
“Liv! Fancy seeing you here!” Emma beamed.
“I was just thinking, what kind of madwoman takes her kids out shopping in this weather?” Olivia teased.
“We live in this block. Ran out of milk and porridge oats. Tried to dash out myself, but Sophie threw a fit, and Ethan couldn’t calm her. Had to drag them both along.”
The question about Emma’s husband hovered on Olivia’s tongue, but she held back. Too soon to pry. Probably still at work.
She glanced at the boy. He stared blankly at a row of biscuit packets.
“My little helper,” Emma said proudly.
“How old is he?”
“Six. Starts school next autumn.”
“Can we go home? I want to finish my cartoon,” Ethan grumbled, shooting his mum a petulant look.
“Patience. We’re leaving soon,” Emma said firmly before sighing. “Sorry, Liv. Clearly, my time isn’t my own. Here—take my number. You *have* to call me. The kids are usually asleep by ten.”
Olivia fumbled for her phone.
“Wait—don’t forget this!” she called as Emma turned to leave.
Emma murmured to Ethan, who trotted over, snatched the pink bunny from Olivia, and ran back without a word. Emma rolled her eyes but grinned before heading to the till.
*Never would’ve guessed Emma would have two kids. How does she manage? I’d never brave a blizzard for groceries*, Olivia thought, queuing at the checkout.
*That’s why you’re single and childless*, her inner voice jabbed.
At home, Olivia scrambled eggs—too late for a proper meal. While the kettle boiled, she studied her new kitchen. She’d bought the flat six months ago and still swelled with pride. The living room felt sparse—just a sofa, telly, and wardrobe—but the kitchen was fully kitted out. *The heart of a woman’s home*, she mused. These days, she only dashed in to whip up quick meals before eating in front of the telly. But someday, she’d have a family. Kids. A husband. She’d be just like Emma—exhausted, but *needed*. She sighed.
The cream cabinets gleamed under the pendant light. A whistling kettle snapped her back to the present. After dinner, she lingered by the window, watching car lights streak through the darkness like stray Christmas bulbs. Squares of gold glowed in nearby flats—families gathered around tables, sharing news. Maybe someone out there was staring too, thinking the same.
She thought of Emma. No time for wistful gazing with two kids. Yet back in school, Emma had sworn she’d never have children. *”I’m not wasting my best years on ungrateful brats who’ll leave me alone and old. Let someone else pop out babies,”* she’d declared at seventeen.
Olivia had argued—*kids are our legacy, our reason for being*.
*”Well, you have them then,”* Emma had retorted.
Olivia had grown up with just her mum. Her dad had another family now. A sibling would’ve made the loneliness easier. Funny how people crave what they never had.
She washed up, then mindlessly flicked through TV channels until half ten. Finally, she dialled Emma.
“Hey, it’s Liv. Did I catch you at a bad time?” she whispered.
“No, kids are down. Glad you called—I’ll save your number. So, how’ve you been?”
“Nothing exciting. Single, no kids. Bought this place recently—dead chuffed.”
“Why?” Emma asked.
“What do you mean? Spent years dreaming of escaping that old council flat. After Mum died, I sold it straightaway. Wanted a fresh start.”
“You were always driven,” Emma said. “But I meant—why *single*?”
They talked for ages until a baby’s wail crackled through the line.
“Sophie’s up. Let’s chat soon.” The call ended.
Olivia set her phone down, picturing Emma in a dimly lit nursery, soothing her daughter while her husband—*the rock of the family*—lounged in front of the telly. A pang of envy struck.
Then again… *”She braved a blizzard with two kids. Doesn’t sound like ‘rock’ is pulling his weight,”* her inner voice sniped.
*”Maybe he’s working hard for them? Family’s family. Hardships pass.”*
Olivia sighed and brushed her teeth.
She nearly called Emma several times but stopped herself. Emma had a family; she had… freedom. No need to intrude. If Emma wanted to talk, she would.
Two weeks later, Emma rang, inviting her to Ethan’s birthday.
“Want me to come early and help?” Olivia offered.
“Don’t bother. I’ve got my husband *and* a helper,” Emma teased, voice light. Good sign.
Olivia arrived dressed up, bearing a Lego set and chocolates.
Ethan opened the door.
“Hello! You’re not supposed to open the door without asking who it is,” she mock-scolded.
He bolted without a word.
“Who’s there?” Emma called.
“Just me!” Olivia stepped inside, shrugging off her coat.
Ethan was glued to cartoons. She handed him the gift, wished him happy birthday, then followed Emma’s voice to the kitchen.
Emma sat at a bare table, eyes red-rimmed. No cake. No guests.
“What happened? Where’s the party? Ethan liked his gift,” Olivia said carefully.
“Thanks,” Emma mumbled.
“Where’s Mark?”
“In *Manchester*,” Emma spat.
“Ah. Row?”
“Yeah… Thought he’d come home from work, we’d celebrate. But no—he’s late, drunk, and *I’m* the problem because I ‘don’t do anything all day.’ Try looking after two kids, you prat!” Her voice cracked.
“Emma, calm down. You’re both right in your own ways. Men don’t get it.”
“I *know*. Should’ve kept quiet, but… I worked so hard. Ethan was waiting for his dad, and he—” She waved a hand, tears spilling.
“Let’s celebrate. Ethan deserves a birthday.”
They laid out food, cheered up Ethan, and Emma juggled Sophie between bites. Once the kids were asleep, they sipped wine at the kitchen table.
“I’m *shattered*. Laundry, cooking, nursery runs—it never ends. And Mark? Useless. Thinks my job is popping out babies and wiping noses. His contribution? Sperm and paychecks.”
“And you wonder why I’m single,” Olivia joked.
“Don’t be daft! Kids are *everything*. I wouldn’t trade them.” Emma’s eyes shone. “Ignore me—I’m just furious at Mark. They’re *magic*, Liv.”
“Not what you said at school.”
“Did I?” Emma blinked.Olivia smiled, realizing that life had a way of turning even the firmest resolutions upside down, just as Emma—once so adamant against motherhood—now couldn’t imagine her world without her children, and she—who’d always longed for a family—had found love in the most unexpected way, with the man who’d saved her from Mark’s advances.
