The Inevitable Choice
Emily flinched at the sharp shout:
“Oi, you little pest!” Victor raised a heavy shopping bag over the puppy, then turned on her: “Have you lost your mind? Feeding stray dogs with my food?”
One spring morning, Emily was struck by a sudden longing for love.
She stood before the mirror, studying her reflection thoughtfully. “How quickly time flies,” she sighed. “It feels like only yesterday I was young as a daisy, and now… well, let’s say I’m more like a mature rose. Still lovely, but with a hint of autumn. Winter will come soon, and then… I’d better take charge of my life!”
Thirty-seven—old enough to have wisdom, young enough to still turn heads. The perfect time for bold moves! But where to find love? Her office was full of women, random encounters on the street weren’t her style, and the Internet only made her wary.
But they say fortune favors the bold.
And then, luck smiled: a new hire joined their HR department—Andrew Thompson. Tall, slightly stout, with a warm smile and stern glasses. Around her age. Emily noticed his calm demeanor and quiet confidence straight away.
The competition, of course, was fierce. Take Sophie, the junior HR assistant—young as a fawn, with endless legs, full lips, and eyelashes that could summon a hurricane with a single flutter.
At first, Emily despaired. How could she, modest and homely, compete with such a dazzling beauty? Surely Andrew would fall at Sophie’s feet without a second glance, blinded by her youth and bold charm.
But she was wrong. Sophie fluttered around Andrew like a peacock, flashing cleavage and long legs, yet he remained unmoved:
“Sophie, do you need something? I’ll help once I’m done.”
And his gaze stayed fixed on her eyes, ignoring all her antics.
But when Emily brought her famous apple pie to work one day, Andrew suddenly lit up:
“Emily, you’re a witch! My gran used to make pies just like this. Takes me right back to childhood.”
A strange compliment. Emily had no interest in reminding a grown man of his grandmother. She wanted a partner, not a boy nostalgic for the past. Still, she took it as a start—better than nothing.
Besides, she’d discovered Andrew’s weakness: home-cooked meals. Cooking was her passion, though it came at a cost—once a size 10, she now comfortably wore a 14. So she baked more—sharing with colleagues meant less for her.
Through pies and roasts, Emily found her way to Andrew’s heart. Simple, predictable, but effective. Soon, their romance bloomed—flowers, compliments, long talks.
“It’s strange, Andrew,” Emily admitted once. “I’d just begun dreaming of love, and there you were. So… real. And I’ll confess, I thought I stood no chance. Especially with Sophie sashaying about.”
“Sophie?” Andrew chuckled. “Come off it! Girls like her are a dime a dozen—false lashes, long nails, legs always on display. Think every bloke’s mad for them. Not my type. A woman should be genuine—kind, warm, dependable. Like you, Em.”
“My luck’s finally turned!” Emily thought, elated. “Late, but here at last!”
Andrew seemed flawless. But, alas, nobody’s perfect…
Their romance lasted six months, edging toward marriage—until that grim November evening.
The weather had turned vicious—driving rain, sleet, a spiteful wind. Emily and Andrew hurried home arm-in-arm under a shared umbrella.
“Look, a kitten!” Emily stopped suddenly.
Under a streetlamp, shivering, sat a tiny black kitten—drenched, filthy, pitiful.
“Leave it, Em! I’m freezing and starving,” Andrew tugged her sleeve.
“One second,” Emily crouched. “Come here, little one.”
“Are you serious?” Andrew snapped. “I’m soaked, and you’re fussing over strays?”
“We’re taking him,” Emily said firmly, tucking the kitten into her coat. “He’s worse off than us.”
“Mad cat lady,” Andrew muttered, storming ahead.
Emily hurried after, whispering to the kitten: “Don’t mind him—he’s just grumpy.”
But at home, Andrew’s kindness vanished.
“Feed it if you must, then chuck it out!” he barked.
“Out? In this weather? He’s helpless!” Emily protested.
“Em, don’t be daft. Streets are full of strays—you can’t save them all. Toss it—I’m starving!”
“No, Andrew. I won’t.”
He scowled. “I can’t stand cats! Pets should be useful—meat, milk, wool. These creatures? Useless. Not in my home!”
Emily saw him anew—cold, selfish, calculating.
“First, it’s my home. Second—did you pick me for ‘usefulness’ too?”
“Well, what’s wrong with wanting a wife who keeps house?” he spluttered.
“So I’m just… convenient. While Sophie’s too selfish for you. Everything must revolve around you. Get out, Andrew.”
“No dinner, then?” he sneered. “Fine. Enjoy dying alone with your cats.”
“Leave.”
He went, expecting her to cave, toss the cat, and call him back. She never did.
New Year’s Eve found Emily with the kitten, now named Soot—grown fluffy and regal as a tiny panther. He soothed her sorrows, climbing into her lap with a purr when melancholy struck.
By spring, hope had faded—until new neighbor George appeared.
George was Andrew’s opposite—stocky, balding, gruff. Recently divorced, he’d moved in across the hall.
“Need help, love? Handy with most things,” he’d grunt when they met.
Emily declined—until her kettle broke.
“Any good with appliances?” she asked.
“Expert level,” George smirked.
An hour of tinkering (and creative swearing) later, the kettle worked. Grateful, Emily invited him to dinner. Their romance began.
“Brilliant cook, Emily,” George praised. “But I’m no slouch—cooking, cleaning, fixing. My ex never appreciated it…”
At least I’m not just a housemaid, Emily thought. Better still, George got on with Soot:
“Proper little gent, this one,” he’d say, scratching the cat’s ears.
Emily took it slow—they were so different. But perhaps opposites attract?
One day, waiting outside Tesco, she spotted a scruffy ginger pup eyeing her hopefully. Breaking off a bit of sausage, she crouched:
“Here, boy.”
The pup crept closer—just as George stormed out:
“Beat it, mutt!” He swung his shopping bag, then rounded on Emily: “Lost your marbles? Feeding strays with my bangers? It’ll bite you—then what? Rabies jabs?”
The pup cowered under a bench. Emily stood, clutching the sausage.
“You love Soot—why yell at this pup?”
“Are you thick?” George roared. “Soot’s yours—I respect that. This thing? Vermin! Belongs under a wheel, not eating my food!”
Fury surged. Emily stepped forward—and shoved the sausage into George’s mouth.
“Here’s your banger. And I’m done. I won’t date an animal hater.”
She scooped up the trembling pup, ignoring George’s shouts.
At home, Soot inspected the new arrival—a scruffy ginger with a curled tail. Emily named him Biscuit.
George tried apologizing, failed, called her a “daft cow,” and vanished.
“Terrible luck,” Emily sighed to her pets. “But…”
Andrew was selfish—I nearly married him. Soot showed his true colors. George was cruel—I thought it was serious. Biscuit revealed him.
“Feel sorry for our Em,” Biscuit whined.
“Don’t fret,” Soot purred. “She’ll find the right one.”
“How d’you know?”
“I’m a cat. We know things.”
He was right. Next spring, Emily met someone who loved her—and animals—without hidden edges. What awaited them? Something wonderful, no doubt. But that’s another tale…
The lesson? True character reveals itself—sometimes in the smallest choices, guided by the creatures who see through us best.
