OBSESSION
In any workplace with mostly women, gossip always finds a corner. And as the saying goes, a gossip’s tongue is longer than a ladder. At one nursery, the staff often whispered about the personal and married life of Lucy, one of the teachers. For the young woman, these were two separate worlds. Lucy seemed to delight in giving them plenty to talk about.
She never lacked admirers—flirting came as naturally to her as breathing. Whenever a plumber, carpenter, or painter arrived at the nursery, Lucy would rush over under the guise of helping, though it never went beyond coy smiles and playful banter. Still, everyone assumed she was up to no good.
Lucy chattered away, always at the center of male attention—even sweet-talking the elderly caretaker, old Michael, who was practically retired. She basked in the compliments, relishing being the most dazzling woman in the room.
Yet Lucy was married with a seven-year-old daughter, Emily. Neither her husband nor her child seemed to temper her flirtations.
Her husband, William, adored her. He doted on her, turning a blind eye to her harmless little games. “Well, if a woman is beautiful, how can she help but attract attention? But my Lucy is loyal to me,” he reassured himself.
Bless his heart. Especially since Lucy swore undying love to him.
…Lucy had married at her mother’s insistence. “William is pliable—you can mould him into the perfect husband,” she’d said. And so it happened. William was a skilled electrician, often away on business trips. When he returned, he showered Lucy and Emily with gifts, devoting all his free time to his family. But something was missing in their quiet, comfortable marriage—passion, maybe? A spark?
Then one day, Lucy fell head over heels. It all started when Michael was unexpectedly retired. His replacement was the headmistress’s son, Oliver, a fourth-year medical student training to be a dentist.
The headmistress, Victoria, wanted to help her son earn some extra cash, so she offered him the night shift. Oliver agreed—who couldn’t use a bit more money? Maybe even take a girl to the cinema and buy her ice cream…
Not that he had a girlfriend yet. But with his bright future (a dentist, no less!), one would come along soon.
The moment Oliver started, Lucy couldn’t resist visiting him in the caretaker’s lodge.
…It was a winter evening. All the children had been collected. Lucy invited herself in, just to say hello. Oliver, ever the gentleman, offered her a seat. He perched opposite her on the worn-out sofa. Lucy was a master of effortless conversation—her words tumbling out faster than anyone could follow.
They talked nonstop. Oliver rambled about medicine, his friends, his dreams. Lucy nodded along. Then she lamented her dull, stifling life—until Oliver took her hand, comforting her. Time slipped away unnoticed. Night had fallen over the city.
Oliver walked Lucy home—luckily, she lived nearby.
And so began their whirlwind romance.
Lucy was beyond reason, charging toward ruin without a second thought. Oliver soon confessed his love. The entire nursery staff knew. And as they say, you can’t put a gate around another’s mouth.
Victoria summoned Lucy to her office.
“Lucy, I’ll remind you—you have a family. As a mother, I’m asking you to leave Oliver alone. What could you possibly have in common? You have a husband, a child. Oliver has years of study ahead. He doesn’t need stolen love. Or do you want me to fire you for immoral behaviour?”
“Go ahead, Victoria! I won’t give Oliver up. He’s mine!” Lucy stormed out.
“You’ll regret this!” Victoria shouted after her.
The next day, Lucy submitted a holiday request. Victoria signed it silently, adding, “I hope you come to your senses, Lucy. I don’t want a daughter-in-law with baggage.”
Lucy took Emily (“the baggage”) and fled to her parents’ village, desperate for solitude to make a decision. She didn’t understand herself—was it lust? Passion? Madness? Her mind stayed stubbornly silent while her heart ached for love.
In the village lived Madam Elsie, a fortune-teller. People travelled from near and far for her advice. She was ninety, sharp as a tack, and brimming with optimism. Living alone in a crumbling cottage, she had outlived her husband and seven children. After weeping all her tears, she became a seer—her predictions always came true.
Lucy brought gifts (Madam Elsie never took money) and sought her guidance.
Before Lucy could even knock, the old woman startled her:
“Well, dearie, what will you name your little boy?”
Lucy was baffled. “What boy?”
“Your own son. Due in spring—didn’t you know?”
Intrigued, Lucy stepped inside. The dim, cramped cottage smelled of herbs, icons lined the walls, candles flickered on the table.
“Sit, love. I’ll tell you everything. I know what troubles you.”
Madam Elsie laid out her worn tarot cards and sighed.
“Don’t keep me waiting—just say it,” Lucy urged.
“Your daughter will marry a military man. Move far away. But you—go back to your husband. He’ll take you, flaws and all. He’ll love your boy. But you—you’re building castles in the sand. Turn from him, and you’ll be alone in this world.”
She muttered prayers, melted wax, poured it into water. The shape that formed made Lucy gasp.
“What do you see, dear?”
“It’s… a horse!”
“Go in peace. I’ve said enough.”
Dazed, Lucy left the gifts and stepped outside.
“A horse? What does that mean?”
Madam Elsie’s words planted doubt—briefly. But Lucy had made up her mind. She would leave William for Oliver.
Wait—where would they live? Oliver still stayed with Victoria. Oh well. She’d figure it out.
Lucy returned to the city, the two weeks dragging unbearably. She missed Oliver terribly.
On her first day back, she rushed to the caretaker’s lodge—only to find old Michael smoking his pipe.
“I know who you expected,” he said. “Oliver’s gone. Victoria sent him to her relatives in Birmingham. Said he’d be better off herding horses than entangled with a married woman. She rehired me—even gave me a bonus!”
Seeing Lucy’s devastation, he softened.
“Oliver left this address. Don’t tell me you’ll go after him? You’d need a plane ticket! Lucy, your husband’s a gem. Lose him, and you’ll regret it. Oliver’s a rolling stone—you’re just another fling.”
Lucy was already sprinting to the post office, scribbling a letter, clutching the address like treasure.
Three months later, a reply came. Lucy kissed the envelope, weeping as she read—then froze.
In neat feminine handwriting: “Woman, Oliver is my husband. Don’t write again.”
Lucy confronted Victoria, who smirked.
“I won’t give you my son. Haven’t you grasped that?”
“But I’m carrying his child!”
“I see that. Take maternity leave. But whose child is it, really?”
Lucy packed for Birmingham. She told William she was visiting her parents.
“Take care of yourself,” he said. “We need a healthy baby.”
He still had no clue of the storm in her heart.
…Birmingham at last.
Oliver, spotting her, rushed over.
“Lucy! What brings you here?”
“Is this true?” She waved the letter.
“What?”
“Your wife wrote this. Where is she?”
“I don’t have a wife. Wait—I think I understand. My mother must’ve arranged this.”
Turned out, Victoria’s sister had written the letter, intercepting Lucy’s to Oliver. He’d only gone to help relatives with harvest season. Realising Lucy’s pregnancy, they hurried home.
Lucy confessed everything to William. He listened calmly, packed his things, and left.
“I suppose this was inevitable. But I want you to be happy.”
Oliver moved in immediately.
Victoria was livid. She threatened Lucy.
…In time, Lucy gave birth to a son, Henry.
Now her personal and married life merged. She doted on Oliver, hanging on his every word, fulfilling his wishes like a golden fish.
When Henry took his first steps and said “Mama,” Victoria visited—now a grandmother.
One look at Henry, and she melted, offering help, her anger gone.
From then on, Victoria was a frequent guest. Henry became her world. She spoiled him, took him to work, had him sleep over.
Peaceful happiness seemed endless—until, seven years later, Oliver left.
For a young patient—he’d fixed her teeth and fallen in love.
“Lucy, I can’t breathe without her!”
Lucy let him go, remembering her own obsession.
Soon, Victoria asked for Henry. “I can’t live without him. You still have Emily.”
At first, Lucy refused. But Henry began spending more time with his grandmother—fed, clothed, adored
