**Correcting Mistakes**
The ambulance raced through the city with its siren blaring and lights flashing. Cars hugged the kerb, clearing a path down the middle of the road.
“Dad… Daddy, please forgive me. Just stay alive, don’t die…” the girl whispered, sitting beside the stretcher.
He couldn’t hear her. Instead, he saw another girl before him—smiling, her eyes glowing with a soft, warm light. It pulled him in, irresistible, and he had no desire to resist. He wanted to fly toward it, to merge with it… He could, because his body felt unnaturally light, as though it had vanished.
But something held him back, dragging him away from the light. He tried to say, “Let go,” but couldn’t. Then something struck his chest, flinging him backward. The girl’s face disappeared, the light faded, and his body turned heavy as stone. Do stones feel pain?
Sounds returned from the darkness—someone crying, calling his name, gripping his hand. He wanted to plead for release, to call out for Vicky, who had vanished. But then he fell into a void where not even darkness existed. Nothing. He no longer did.
***
**The Day Before**
“Dad, can I go down south with Olivia and Daisy? Daisy’s relatives have a house there. I only need money for the train, and a bit for spending.” His daughter’s voice was wheedling, hopeful.
William always knew when she was lying. Sometimes he pretended to believe her, but not today. He set aside the newspaper he’d been reading and studied Emily closely. Definitely lying. Her ears were red, her gaze kept shifting, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“How long are you going for?” he asked calmly.
“Two weeks,” Emily brightened. “Fresh air, the sea. I’m tired of being stuck in this grimy city.”
“With Olivia and Daisy, then?” William pressed.
Hearing the sarcasm in his voice, Emily realised her lie about her friends hadn’t worked.
“You’re a terrible liar. I spoke to Daisy’s father yesterday. The three of them are going to Scotland.”
Emily’s ears burned crimson, her face and neck flushing. She lifted her chin defiantly.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me go with Ethan, so I lied. His aunt really does live down south.”
“And you were right. I won’t let you,” William replied evenly. “I get it—young love and all that. But is that really enough reason for you to go away with a boy?”
“I love him,” Emily said, her voice desperate. Her face had gone pale now.
“Does he love you? Love and desire aren’t the same. I’m a man—I know what it means when a boy invites a girl on a trip alone. It’s not what you think.”
“So that’s a no?” Emily asked.
“That’s a no. I’ve got leave next month. We’ll go to the seaside then.”
Emily bit her lip, lost in thought. William’s heart clenched. She looked so much like her mother—the same habit of chewing her lip when upset, angry, or unsure. His daughter was nearly grown. How could he make her understand? After so much loss, he couldn’t bear to lose the last thing he had left.
“Dad, please. It’s just the train ride together. We’d stay with Ethan’s relatives.”
“No. If you want, we’ll visit him and his family next month,” William said firmly.
“I never thought you’d be like this,” Emily snapped. “I could’ve just left without asking. I’m an adult. But I wanted to do it properly.”
“You didn’t run off, so my opinion matters to you. Then listen to it,” William said, reaching for the newspaper. He didn’t read it—just rested it on his lap.
“Trust me—one day, you’ll look back on this conversation differently.”
“Dad, please. We love each other.” Desperation crept back into her voice.
“You might love him. Does he love you? If he did, he wouldn’t push you to lie.”
“You think you know everything? About him? About me? And what about you—” Emily stopped, realising she’d crossed a line.
“That’s why I’m telling you. I made mistakes too. Some last a lifetime,” William said quietly.
“Oh, right. Next, you’ll say how hard it was raising me alone. How you sacrificed everything for me. I am grateful, but I get to make my own mistakes. Please.” Her brows knitted together, her eyes pleading.
“No,” William said, picking up the newspaper—a clear end to the conversation.
Emily huffed, turned on her heel, and stormed to her room, slamming the door.
William set the paper aside again. How could he focus on the news now?
***
How many years had passed? It felt like yesterday he’d convinced Vicky to go to Brighton for the weekend. He still didn’t know—had she lied to her parents about going with friends, or told the truth? Either way, they’d let her.
The trip had been perfect. They’d returned happy—changed. Or so it had seemed. Then Vicky left for London, enrolled in university. He stayed behind, studying engineering, where he met Jenna. He lost his head, forgetting Vicky, their promises. Though no—he’d never told Vicky he loved her. He was sure of that.
Then Vicky returned, saying she was pregnant. He panicked—not at the pregnancy, but at the thought of losing Jenna. Vicky had come straight from the station. He begged her to terminate, mumbling about youth, not being ready, how safe it was now…
Vicky cried—twelve weeks, she said.
“What were you waiting for?” he shouted. “Twelve weeks is still—”
She left. He was sure she’d ended it. For three years, he heard nothing. If she’d had the baby, he’d have known. Her parents would’ve demanded justice.
He married Jenna, planned a honeymoon by the sea—bought tickets, packed suitcases. Then the doorbell rang. He barely recognised Vicky—thin, pale. A little girl clung to her hand.
“Hello,” Vicky forced a smile.
William froze.
“Who’s here?” Jenna called from the bedroom.
He turned—Jenna stood behind him, staring at the girl.
“Who is this?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the child.
William looked back at Vicky. Pain flickered in her eyes. Shame burned through him. He hadn’t killed anyone, yet he felt like a criminal caught red-handed.
“We went to school together,” he managed, forcing steadiness into his voice.
“Don’t keep guests in the doorway—come in,” Jenna said politely.
Vicky stepped inside, hesitating. As William closed the door, he noticed a large bag on the floor. A dreadful thought struck him—it held the girl’s belongings.
“Are you leaving or arriving?” he asked, hating the forced lightness in his tone.
“Leaving. I can’t take her with me,” Vicky murmured, looking down at the girl. “No one can look after her. My father’s gone; my mother… It doesn’t matter. You’re not a stranger to her. If I come back, I’ll take her.”
He wanted to say they were leaving too—but instead asked, “Where are you going?”
“Far. The bag has Emily’s documents and clothes. A list of what she can’t eat, what she likes.” She lifted the girl, kissed her, set her down, and left swiftly.
“Yours?” Jenna demanded, staring at him.
“She was supposed to—” William muttered.
The girl began crying, realising her mother was gone. William picked her up. Jenna erupted. He defended himself—it happened before they met, he hadn’t known—but their new marriage already strained at the seams.
William checked the documents. He was listed as the father. For three days, he struggled alone, exhausted beyond reason. On the fourth day, Jenna returned.
She tried to love Emily—bright, quiet, like Vicky. A year later, he learned Vicky had died of leukaemia. When Emily turned six, Jenna left. William didn’t stop her. He saw how hard it was for her.
***
William went to Emily’s room and told her everything—even though she sat with headphones on, pretending not to listen.
She’d learned about her real mother when Jenna left. William had never hidden Vicky’s death.
“I was young, reckless. With Vicky, I rushed. Then I met Jenna and really fell in love. You… you came at the worst time.”
“There’s contraception,” Emily said, headphones off now.
“Yes. But at eighteen, you don’t believe mistakes last forever. Or that some can’t be undone. Think about it.” He left her alone.
The next morning, Emily spoke first.
“I thought a lot last night. You can’t shield me from mistakes forever.She hugged him tightly, whispering, “I’ll stay here with you, Dad—someday, you’ll see, we’ll both be okay.”
