Emma was still asleep when the insistent knocking shattered the quiet of a Saturday dawn. She jolted upright in bed. Who could be here at this hour? She wasn’t expecting anyone.
Opening the door, she froze—her colleagues stood there: Beatrice, Victoria, and Clara. Beatrice held a thermos, Victoria a box of scones.
“What are you all doing here?” Emma gasped. “It’s the weekend!”
“That’s exactly why we’ve come,” Beatrice said, stepping inside as if it were her own flat. “Where’s your daughter?”
“Charlotte’s asleep… What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Victoria said gently. “But you’re coming with us to a holiday lodge. No arguments.”
Emma stood dumbfounded. This made no sense—a trip? Now?
“I already told you at the office I couldn’t—”
“And we know why,” Clara cut in. “We’re ashamed we didn’t notice sooner.”
Emma paled.
“What do you mean?”
“We know everything, Emma. That you’ve been raising Charlotte alone since the divorce, that your ex hasn’t paid a penny in child support, that you’re scraping together school supplies while skipping meals and never saying a word.”
Emma stayed silent. A lump thickened in her throat.
“I… didn’t want to complain. I thought… I could handle it.”
“You *are* handling it,” Beatrice said firmly. “But handling it isn’t the same as living. We’re your friends, Emma. And friends don’t let friends drown.”
“We’ve sorted everything,” Victoria added. “The lodge is covered. We’ve got food, travel, the lot. All you need is you and Charlotte.”
Emma looked down. It felt awkward, accepting help. But sinking in silence was worse.
“But… I don’t even have proper clothes—”
“You’ve got *us*,” Beatrice said sharply. “Victoria brought her daughter’s old things. Perfectly good, and just right for school.”
“And we’ve got stationery sorted,” James chimed in, stepping into the hall with a bag. “Pens, notebooks, the works.”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Clara murmured, hugging her. “Just believe this: you deserve more than hardship. You deserve rest. You deserve care.”
Two hours later, their bus rolled out of London. Charlotte dozed in Emma’s lap, clutching a new backpack. Emma stared out the window, fingers curled around the thermos of tea. And for the first time in ages, warmth flickered in her chest.
She’d had no luck with her husband. But as it turned out, she’d been wildly fortunate in the people around her.
