**OBSESSION**
In any workplace full of women, gossip always finds a place to thrive. And as they say, a gossip’s tongue is longer than a ladder. At one children’s nursery, the staff often whispered about the personal life of Lucy, one of the teachers. For the young woman, love and marriage were two very different things. Lucy seemed to relish giving them plenty to talk about.
She never lacked admirers—there were always more than enough to go around. Whenever a plumber, carpenter, or painter showed up at the nursery, Lucy would drop everything and rush over, pretending to help, though it never went further than shameless flirting and coy smiles. Still, everyone assumed she had a guilty conscience.
Lucy chattered away, always finding herself among men. She even playfully bantered with the elderly caretaker, Michael, who was just months away from retirement. She adored basking in their compliments, relishing the feeling of being the most enchanting woman in the room.
What no one seemed to remember was that Lucy was married, with a seven-year-old daughter, Emily. But neither her marriage nor motherhood ever stopped her from chasing her own version of happiness.
Her husband, Oliver, adored her. He treated her like a queen, always doting on her. He suspected her harmless flirtations but brushed them off. *If a woman is beautiful, of course men will flock to her. But Lucy would never betray me,* he told himself. A fool’s comfort, perhaps. Still, Lucy assured him constantly of her undying love.
Lucy had only married Oliver because her mother insisted. *You can mold him into the perfect husband,* she’d said. And so it happened. Oliver was an exceptional electrician, often travelling for work. When he returned, he showered Lucy and Emily with gifts, dedicating all his free time to them. Yet something was missing for Lucy—passion, excitement, the thrill of forbidden love.
Then, one day, she fell head over heels. It all started when Michael was suddenly retired, and the headmistress’s son, Daniel, took over as the night watchman. A fourth-year medical student training to be a dentist, Daniel had agreed to the job for extra pocket money—after all, a young man needed funds to take girls out for ice cream and cinema trips.
The moment Daniel started, Lucy couldn’t resist visiting him in the caretaker’s lodge.
One winter evening, after all the children had gone home, she slipped in uninvited. Daniel, ever the gentleman, offered her a seat while he perched on the worn-out sofa. Lucy was a master of effortless conversation, her words flowing faster than anyone could follow.
They talked for hours—Daniel about medicine, his dreams, his friends; Lucy about her dull, unfulfilling life. Before she knew it, he was holding her hand tenderly, comforting her. Night had fallen over the town before Daniel walked her home—luckily, she lived nearby.
And so began their whirlwind affair.
Lucy couldn’t control herself. She was plunging into the abyss, blind to consequences. Soon, Daniel confessed his love for her. The entire nursery staff knew within days—gossip spreads fast, after all. The headmistress, Victoria, summoned Lucy to her office.
“Lucy, you have a family,” she said firmly. “As a mother, I’m asking you—leave Daniel alone. What could you possibly have in common? You have a husband, a daughter. He has years of studies ahead. Do you want me to fire you for immoral behavior?”
“Go ahead, Victoria! I won’t give Daniel up!” Lucy snapped before storming out.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Victoria called after her.
The next day, Lucy submitted a leave request. Victoria signed it silently, adding, “I hope you come to your senses, Lucy. I don’t need a daughter-in-law with *baggage*.”
Lucy packed up her daughter—the so-called baggage—and fled to her parents’ countryside home, desperate for solitude to make the right decision. She couldn’t understand herself—was this lust? Passion? Obsession? Her mind stayed stubbornly silent, while her heart ached for love.
In the village lived a wise old woman, Agnes, a local seer. At ninety, she had outlived her husband and all seven children. Grief had hardened into wisdom, and her predictions were legendary. Lucy brought her sweets (Agnes never took money) and sought her guidance.
Before Lucy could even knock, Agnes startled her:
“So, girl, what will you name your boy?”
Lucy blinked. “What boy?”
“Your son. You’re due in spring—didn’t you know?”
Agnes invited her in. The dim cottage smelled of dried herbs and candle wax. She laid out her cards, sighed deeply, and spoke:
“Your daughter will marry a soldier and move far away. But you—go back to your husband. He’ll forgive you. If you abandon him, you’ll be left with nothing.”
Lucy scoffed. She had already made up her mind—she would leave Oliver for Daniel.
Two weeks later, she returned to work, rushing straight to the caretaker’s lodge—only to find Michael back.
“Daniel’s gone,” he said, exhaling cigarette smoke. “Victoria sent him off to her relatives in Devon. Said he’d be better off herding sheep than tangled up with a married woman.”
Lucy’s heart sank—until Michael handed her an address.
“You’d really go after him? Your Oliver’s a good man. Daniel’s just a drifter—he’ll move on from you like he would from anyone.”
But Lucy was already sprinting to the post office, drafting a letter to Daniel.
Three months later, a reply came—but not from him. A woman’s neat handwriting declared: *”Daniel is my husband now. Don’t write again.”*
Furious, Lucy confronted Victoria, who only smirked. “Did you really think I’d let you take my son?”
“I’m carrying his child!”
“Who’s to say it’s his?” Victoria countered.
Defeated, Lucy packed for Devon, telling Oliver she was visiting family. He kissed her goodbye, oblivious to the storm inside her.
But when she arrived, Daniel was shocked. “What letter? I never got anything from you!”
The truth unraveled—Victoria’s sister had intercepted Lucy’s letter and forged the response. Daniel had been helping relatives with harvests, unaware of Lucy’s pregnancy. They rushed home together.
Lucy confessed everything to Oliver. He listened quietly, then packed his things. “I always knew this was coming. I just want you to be happy,” he said before leaving.
Daniel moved in immediately.
Victoria raged, threatening Lucy—until the baby, little Thomas, was born. Suddenly, the headmistress softened, doting on her grandson. She became a frequent visitor, even taking Thomas to stay with her.
For seven years, Lucy and Daniel’s marriage swung between fiery fights and tender reconciliations—until he left her for a younger patient. “I can’t live without her,” he said.
Lucy let him go. She remembered how love had once blinded her too.
Victoria then demanded custody of Thomas. At first, Lucy refused—but soon, the boy was spending more time with his grandmother than at home.
Now alone, Lucy wondered—where was Oliver? Did he ever think of her?
Her daughter, Emily, married a cadet and moved to a distant military post. By forty, Lucy was utterly alone.
Her colleagues noticed her melancholy and gifted her a kitten for her birthday. “Life begins at forty!” they teased.
Lucy adored the cat, spoiling it rotten—until it fell ill. She rushed to the vet clinic and burst in, only to freeze.
Oliver stood there, fixing a wiring issue.
Her voice trembled. “You’re here?”
“Just repairing the lights,” he said coolly.
The vet examined the cat. “He’s just overeating.”
Lucy laughed weakly, but her heart raced. Before leaving, she whispered, “Call me. Please.”
That evening, Oliver did.
**Sometimes, the love you let go is the one that finds its way back.**
