**Love Until the Grave**
Emma stepped out of the shop, adjusting the heavy grocery bag digging into her fingers. She hadn’t bought much, yet the weight dragged at her arm. Pausing outside their terraced house, she frowned at the darkened windows. *Lily’s run off again*, she thought bitterly. *Out with that… Jake, no doubt. Skipping school, ignoring her studies. Teachers keep complaining, and her A-levels are coming up. Wait till she comes home—she’ll get an earful this time.*
Inside, she dropped the bag onto a kitchen chair. The stove was cold. *So much for peeling potatoes or boiling pasta. Gone. What am I supposed to do with her?*
She yanked off her coat, flung it over the banister, and slammed cupboard doors, clattering pans as she vented her frustration into cooking dinner. Each bang punctuated promises of the scolding Lily would face—whenever she *finally* dragged herself home.
But Lily didn’t hurry back. By half ten, Emma paced the narrow hallway, fists clenched. *Just wait till she walks in. I’ll make sure she never forgets this. I break my back to give her a decent life, and she can’t even boil pasta? At my age, I was raising her alone. Ungrateful girl. Does she want to repeat my mistakes?*
Rage coiled tight in her chest. She wanted to hurl something, smash it—anything to release the storm inside.
When the lock clicked, relief washed over her. But the moment she saw Lily’s flushed, guilty face, still glowing with reckless joy, fury reignited.
“Where the hell have you been?” Emma’s voice tore through the flat. “Do you know what time it is? Your exams are in *weeks*!”
“I did my revision—”
“Don’t you *dare* backchat me! I slaved to give you a future, and you throw it away for some boy?”
“I’m not throwing anything away!” Lily shot back, defiance burning in her eyes before fading to hurt.
Emma barely bit back a venomous retort. Helpless, she scanned the room for something—*anything*—to channel her anger. Lily tried to dart past, but Emma snatched the umbrella from the console, raising it—
“Mum!” Lily flinched, arms shielding her head.
The umbrella clattered to the floor. Emma sagged, the fight draining out of her.
Her gaze landed on Lily’s hand. “…What’s that on your finger?”
Lily slowly lowered her arms, staring at the delicate gold band with a tiny white stone.
“Jake gave it to me.” Her voice was small, hopeful.
“You’re still in *school*. Doesn’t he know that?” Emma whispered, transfixed.
“He does. So what? In two months, I’ll have my results—”
“And be *grown*? Ha! While you live under my roof, you follow my rules. Or did you think adulthood meant swanning about all night? Getting pregnant? Throwing your life away like I did?” The words tasted bitter, but she couldn’t stop.
“Mum, he *loves* me. And I love him.”
“If he loved you, he wouldn’t drag you down!” Emma’s voice cracked.
Later, sleepless, she replayed every warning sign. Her bright, obedient girl—her *pride*—reduced to this. Gnawing fear conjured nightmares: dropout, teen mother, ruined future. Desperate, she called her only friend.
“You *warned* me,” Emma choked. “She’s with this older boy—skipping school, teachers complaining. Now he’s given her a *ring*.” A yawn crackled down the line. “*Pauline*, are you even listening?”
The next morning, resolve hardened. As Lily slept, Emma pocketed her keys, swapping them for spares. *She’ll stay home. Think. I’ll talk to her tonight.*
Lily’s frantic call came at nine. “Why did you *lock me in*?”
“To make you *think*,” Emma snapped.
The day dragged. By evening, a crowd gathered outside the opposite block. Neighbours murmured; sirens wailed. Emma’s chest tightened before she even saw the figures on the rooftop—Lily and Jake, hands clasped, silhouetted against the sunset.
*I locked her in. How—?*
“Rescue crew came earlier,” a man muttered. “Must’ve hauled her out the window.”
“*LILY!*” The name ripped from her throat as a sob.
Jake’s shaky voice carried down. “Stay back, or we’ll jump!”
Emma’s vision blurred. She didn’t see the men sneaking into the building. The world spun—then darkness.
She woke to a paramedic’s face. “*Lily!*”
“Your daughter’s safe. Over there.”
Lily collapsed into her arms, sobbing. Jake hadn’t been so lucky.
In the months that followed, Lily moved like a ghost. But slowly, life crept back. She aced her exams. Applied to uni.
Then, one evening, laughter floated from her room—a man’s voice. Emma’s pulse spiked.
“Mum, this is…” Lily stood, blushing.
The stranger smiled. “Don’t recognise me? I was there that day. Paul. From the rescue team.”
They’d bumped into each other Christmas shopping. Now, over tea, his easy charm drew rare laughter from Lily. Emma watched, relief softening the old ache.
Two years later, they married.
Love is a moth to flame—bright, consuming. But not every first love burns safely. Some leave scars.
*Life is too long for love. Far too long.*
