**Untimely Love**
Emily peeked into her mother’s bedroom and saw her asleep, so she quietly closed the door.
“Emily,” her mum suddenly called in a faint voice.
“Yes, Mum,” Emily said, stepping back in. “I thought you were sleeping. Do you need anything? I was just going to meet the girls for a bit.”
“Go ahead, I’ll rest,” murmured Julia before closing her eyes again. Even lifting her heavy lids took more effort than she could bear.
Emily exhaled in relief and dashed off to get ready. Ever since her mum fell ill, she’d grown used to moving quietly around the house, tiptoeing down the stairs without a sound. Outside, her classmate Jake Thompson was waiting, looking impatient.
“Took you long enough,” he said, bypassing a proper hello.
“Sorry, I was making Mum some soup. Where are we going?” Emily smiled, hoping to smooth things over.
“She’s still sick?”
“Yeah, she just fell asleep. We won’t be long, okay? In case she needs me.”
“Relax, she’ll feel better after a nap,” Jake said carelessly.
Emily bit her lip. She hadn’t told anyone what was really wrong with her mum—no pity, no fuss at school.
“Ugh, it’s starting to rain,” Jake muttered, lowering his voice. “Let’s go to Matt’s. His parents are at their cottage.” He pulled her closer, trying to kiss her, but Emily jerked her head away.
“What are you doing? Someone could see.”
“Who? Your mum’s asleep. Come on,” Jake pressed.
Emily hesitated. Last time they’d gone to Matt’s, Jake had been too pushy. She liked him, but he was rushing things.
“Em, just half an hour. Promise I’ll behave,” he coaxed. The rain grew heavier.
“Fine, but not for long,” she relented.
“Course not.” Jake barely hid his grin.
Matt answered the door, smirking at the sight of them.
“Come in.”
Emily stayed rooted to the spot—the idea of being alone with two boys made her uneasy.
“Downloaded a sick film yesterday,” Matt said. Jake kicked off his trainers and followed him inside. Emily considered leaving then and there, but going home didn’t appeal either.
She shut the door and joined them, sitting beside Jake, who immediately slung an arm behind her. Matt brought out cans of lager. Emily refused hers, so Jake took it, shrugging when she shot him a look.
The film was gripping, and Emily got lost in it—until she felt Jake’s hand under her jumper, hot and insistent. She flinched, but he held her shoulder, squeezing her chest roughly.
“Ow!” she cried.
Jake loosened his grip, and Emily scrambled up. Matt had vanished—she hadn’t even noticed him leave.
“Em, sorry,” Jake mumbled.
“You promised!” she snapped.
“Relax, it’s not like it’s your first time. I love you,” he said, standing.
It was the first time he’d said that. Emily hesitated, and before she could push him away, he kissed her—his breath reeked of beer, his hands rough and demanding.
“Stop, I need to go—” she gasped, shoving at his chest.
Jake suddenly grabbed her, pinning her to the sofa. Emily fought hard, kneeing him between the legs.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed, rolling off her.
Emily bolted, snatching her trainers and fumbling with the front door lock.
“Sod off, then!” Jake yelled after her.
She raced downstairs, stopping only to pull on her shoes once she was safe outside. How could she have trusted him? Her mum was ill, and all he wanted was… well.
At home, she scrubbed away the memory of his sloppy kisses. Sitting in the dark, she wondered—what if Mum died? She’d be alone. How would she live? Her eighteenth birthday was in two months, and with it, the end of her dad’s child support. No money, not even for a prom dress. But none of it mattered if Mum got better.
She’d guessed the truth about the cancer herself. Mum’s medications, Googled in secret, confirmed it.
Her phone buzzed—Jake. *”Em, sorry.”* She ignored it. More followed—pleading, then angry. She turned it off.
Before bed, she checked on Mum.
“Mum, you awake?”
Julia forced her eyes open. “Need anything? Water? Loo?”
A tiny shake of the head, and her eyes closed again.
The next morning, a crash woke Emily. She sprinted to her mum’s room to find her swaying, gripping the bedframe, a fallen chair nearby.
Emily helped her back to bed, startled at how frail she’d become.
“Why didn’t you call me?” she scolded.
“Thought… I could manage,” Julia gasped, breathless as if she’d run a mile.
“I’ll make tea.” Emily fled to the kitchen.
Julia sipped a little, then refused more. She hadn’t eaten in days.
Emily couldn’t focus. She wanted to stay home—especially after last night—but exams loomed. She decided to skip the last lesson, history, and hurry back.
Returning from school, she found Mum still asleep. She kept checking, but nothing changed. A cold dread settled in—she touched her mother’s bony shoulder and knew.
She stumbled out, hand over her mouth, panic setting in. The neighbour, a kindly retired woman, took one look at her face and understood. An ambulance came, then the funeral home.
The next few days blurred. The coffin held a stranger—Emily couldn’t bear to look, clinging to memories of Mum before the illness.
One evening, while sorting papers, she found an old school notebook filled with her mum’s handwriting. A diary? No dates, just scattered memories. Why had she written these?
*”I must’ve been a year younger than Emily is now when I met Daniel. His last name—Carrington—caught my eye. I teased, ‘Not related to the famous writer?’ He laughed, saying it was just a coincidence.*
*I met him too soon. Seven years older, he seemed so worldly. I didn’t realise it was love—real, lasting love. He never pushed me—what could I have even offered? Stupid girl. I didn’t appreciate him, didn’t understand, and lost my chance.*
*Sometimes love comes at the wrong time. I wanted dances, teddy bears—not French perfume. Even Emily’s more mature than I was.*
*He married, of course. I was furious—‘You love me, but marry her?’ Then I met Mark, my future husband. No grand plans—just cinema, walks. I started uni; he failed exams, joined the army.*
*Two years of rare letters. When he returned, I’d had flings; he’d toughened up. No more studies for him—just work, then a sudden proposal. I panicked, stammered about being too young…*
*He left, but I missed him. Pride kept me from chasing him. He returned days later, acting like nothing happened.*
*He was my first. I’d imagined romance, fireworks. Instead—awkward, underwhelming. No passion, just… done.*
*A friend’s wedding made me want the white dress, the ribboned car, the spotlight. We married three months later. I barely remember it—hugs, messy hair, cringey games. Spent half the night untangling hairsprayed knots. By the time I came out, Mark was asleep. So much for our wedding night…*
*Juggling uni, chores, cooking—I was rubbish at first. Marks dropped, arguments grew. Then pregnancy, sickness, birth…*
*He strayed. Late nights, then none. A messy divorce. Harder alone with a child.*
*I kept thinking of Daniel. Older, steadier. Maybe life with him would’ve been different. We idolise what we’ve lost.*
*Then this illness—like lightning. Tiredness, fainting at work. The diagnosis. I hid tears, but Emily knew.*
*Too late for surgery. No chemo—seen too many die from it. Every morning, grateful for another day. They gave me two months; I took two years. But I’m spent now. Poor Emily—alone. No one else. If I could just last till her exams…”*
Later, the handwriting steadied:
*”Why didn’t I journal sooner? Rereading, it’s all so vivid—the little things. Life’s made of them. But you realise too late…”*
Emily wept—her mum’s love had been real, unlike whatever she’d had with Jake. The story gnawed at her for days. She searched online—*Daniel Carrington*, estimating his age. Hundreds of results.
An old photo in an album—*”For keepsake. Dan”*—gave her a face to match. She messaged every likely Daniel, same wording: *Looking for Daniel Carrington.She closed the book, smiling through tears, knowing her mother’s love—though untimely—had led her exactly where she belonged.
